Wadecalhoun​:

chancellorxlaer​:

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

....

There is a weight that comes with being the survivor of a tragedy, to bear witness to your world falling apart from the seams even as you attempt to keep it together. Robin is too far to stop the Drow Queen, too far to do anything but watch as the Court’s suffer yet another blow, one she does not know how they will recover from. Titania, their home, Fen’harel, Aurora and now Meryasek? It has been blow after blow, no break in between. It’s been a long arduous year, a year full of grief and loss, and they seem to keep losing no matter what they attempt. It is far too much grief, far too much misery, bottled and kept inside for too long for her to be able to keep a hold of it any longer. The vessel on her chest, the one where she keeps all her worries and grief and empathy, shatters under the pressure of seeing the corpse of yet another friend, of another loved one, before her. The first crack had appeared in Halloween, deepened further by Wade’s betrayal, but this, for Hyrsam to ensure that his King’s funeral would also becomes Meryasek’s? Over and over again, she had considered peace, had considered unity between species as a solution to their current conflicts.

No more.

The world had turned their back to the fey, it’s only fair they do the same. Anger bypasses grief, her song joining Laer’s in order to keep the pretense of an united front before their people and their enemies alike. Flames gather around them, the fire preventing anyone but the chancellor’s from reaching their fallen King. As she steps closer, Robin allows herself a brief moment to grieve for who they had lost, to grieve for her friend, gone where they could not follow after doing his all to protect their people. He had risen beyond any of the expectations placed on him, and his death was yet another injustice struck against the fey.

Alas, death takes kings and paupers alike.

Eyes snapping open, Robin let’s out a whistle, high and sharp, and sends her own changeling to reinforce the borders as a precaution. Zahrya will do his duty, but any help will be a kindness for the Spring Chancellor.

“Do not stand around, we cannot afford to remain frozen,” Robin snaps out, voice sharp and cutting through the grief beginning to overwhelm the court. “Gather the children, ensure they are kept safe, place the death together and notify next of kin. Now.”

Eyes going back to Zahrya, she bites her lip and tentatively places her hand upon his shoulder in comfort. There had been a tension between the two since that conversation near the pond, but there cannot be infighting if they want to survive, weakened as they are. “Not now Zahrya,” she offers, voice soft yet kind. “We will have our time for grieve later, but now? Now we must ensure that Meryasek’s work does not go to waste.”

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

wintersaurora​:

❅

Aurora sighed, rolling her eyes but nodding. “I understand, Rob, I do. But unless you’ve been in that situation, I really could not explain to you how difficult it is to think of anything but giving peace of mind to the people that you care about, especially when you’ve already made their family’s life difficult to begin with by bringing in your own world.” She wouldn’t have bothered even explaining that much, as little as it was, had it not been Robin. But Aurora had known her, barely after the cusp of maturity, and so she had always held her words back less. They flowed out like a reckless young adult’s.

“I never mind how harsh you are, you already know I don’t. But don’t extend that to him and don’t act like you know my nephew or the situation better than I do. If you mention anything about him getting killed or bound again, I’m going to take that very seriously,” Aurora replied, impressively calm. “And I’m trying to be level-headed tonight. So while you’ve given me some sage counsel, Robin, the best you can do now is keep an eye on him every once in a while if you’d like to help him in any way. That is all.” Though much unlike their youth, Aurora now spoke with the crushing finality of a Chancellor. 

...

“According to you our experiences do not align in the slightest,” she notes, voice amused still even as the ever present warmth fades from her eyes. It is not that Aurora is fully wrong, and yet she is not fully right either. She had brought plenty of mortals into their world, whether they wanted to learn about it or not. Anne and William had just been the beginning, the parents and childrens she had set up for her plans a continuance of said actions. Despite the Chancellors assumptions, she knew rather well what it mean to bring someone to this world. She did not care for all of her birds equally, but she is not heartless and there are some she had loved and lost for the greater good. Still, she gives Aurora some grace, as she knows nothing of what is going on behind the scenes. ”I will simply add that I have actually experience similar situations, but I see that doesn’t matter so I shall keep the rest of my words to myself.”

Aurora is an old friend, and Robin will always hold her dear for that. That doesn’t mean that Robin approves of her every action, nor she likes some of them. The younger eladrin’s tendency to default to her position as a Chancellor as a trump card over and over again is one of the things that grate her the most. It’s truly infuriating when she believes herself to be better just because her father died before his time and she was chosen to replace them. Yes, Aurora had the prowess and the intelligence necessary to assume the role of chancellor, but damn did her arrogance undermine her every move when she used her title to end every argument, assuming that being a chancellor could make up for being wrong.

“Of course, Chancellor,” she says thinly, with a brief yet almost mocking bow to demonstrate her annoyance at the other’s use of her position in what was supposed to be a conversation amidst friends. “I will endeavor to do as Your Excellency orders, despite the fact you do not head my court.”

"Good," Robin purrs, content on the confirmation. Another piece falling into piece, another siren to lure the unwitting sailor down to the depths. A hard job for the wolf before her perhaps, but one that must be done. She, herself, already has second thoughts about the whole matter, but war demands sacrifice, and her desire to destroy the Eye and get revenge for her brother had not diminished through the years. Instead, it had grown stronger, the rage too powerful to be contained the longer it goes unaddressed. "It will be my pleasure to work with you, Miss Titus. I will be keeping in touch, but if you are ever in need of my services, do not hesitate to find me in the Autumn's Field."

END

thegoodfellow​:

“Splendid. I will work on this misdirection on my part too, but please do be subtle. Wade might not be the sharpest tool in the box but he is not an idiot either.” At least not most of the time, and she cannot risk such a fruitful connection into the Eye to be alerted that he is being used. The hunter had made his bed and then believed a mere apology would be enough to brush it all aside when he would never forgive the creature that had destroyed his family. “He has to believe that he has been forgiven, so that he doesn’t suspect anything we do. For that, if you currently have a good relationship with him, you might need to maintain it. Can you do that? Can you lie to him?”

It’s an intimating question as they carried on their affair under a cover of oblivion until the obvious couldn’t be ignored any longer and it fell apart from there. Love had never been involved but it had been a connection of some sort of intimacy and Flora had always been a compassionate, empathetic person so to look someone in the eyes that she cared for and to lead them into the jaws of a trap was a dangerous game but she was with the wolves and the war wouldn’t go away quietly. She had to do horrible things in order to survive and protect her pack. “I’ll do it, whatever it takes. I won’t allow my pack to be snuffed out and to live in metal cages for the rest of their days. It’s for the greater good.”

who? @vincenzodives​

where? robin’s apartment

when? the morning of the 14th, before the chaos

notes: plot drops?? don’t know them

Preparing for events the mortal way is not an usual occurrence, but Robin desperately needed a quiet moment amidst the search of the missing artifacts, a break and — Perhaps she had wanted to check on Vinny, amidst all her duties. Her work as a Chancellor had lamentably made it difficult to drop by as much as she had wanted, but no one could deny her time to prepare for a royal wedding. She is applying a soft layer of eyeshadow when the door to her room opens and she senses Vinny’s presence enter the room.

“Oh, perfect! Do sit down, Vinny,” she urges as she finishes a swipe of her brush while looking at the mirror. “I need your opinion on the palette I am using, as it is rather more colorful than my usual.”

                                    i’ll feast on my fear and swallow it down, deep

                                                 i’ll rip the sorrow from my eyes 

                                                          if that’s what it takes…                                                       i’ll let the beast inside WIN 

                                                  and claw my way through this

who? @springlia where? the memorial pathway

One step after the other, the sound resonating all around her as she makes her way through the Memorial Pathway with quiet reflection. The month of planning had been worth it, the hours spent learning from the elders and the daimona leaving their mark on her psyche and her confidence. Robin feels more like herself than she has ever felt, settled into her skin now that there is no hesitation with her step. It's a pleasant yet odd feeling, and she had taken to the pathway to meditate upon it. Despite it all, she did not expect to see the spring fey on her path. Their situation had driven Robin to learn the names and faces of all the survivors, so she knows the name of the fey before her. A former exile, now resworn to the courts.

"If I recall correctly, you were invited to the solstice," she muses as she steps closer to settle at her side. "Did we have the pleasure of hosting you?"

wadecalhoun​:

          “M’slow to learn, slow to motivate, always have been,” he shrugged carelessly as a zombie lunged at him, kicking them backwards and stabbing them in tandem succinctness. He had worked up to a certain bravado when it came to hunting monsters, but everyone had their limits, covered in an amalgam of blood and sweat, “Well, you know I love a good ass kicking,” he’d set up the joke as the words were heaved from his lungs, understanding full well that Robin would always take note to jab at when he was a mere scrawny kid who was motivated by pure scorn and rage. Now, well, not much had changed except he certainly was not as lost and scrawny anymore. “But, if I did want this show to reach Act Three and move to the closin’ curtain call, you got any ideas how we’d get there, sweetheart?”

...

“Now that is a lie if I have heard one,” there is a thrill of amusement on her voice as she manifests her blade once more and decapitates a nearby ghoul with a swoop. There is much work to be done, mortal and immortals to safeguard from the walking dead, and she cannot do it alone. A warder would come in handy at this time, but all she has available is her human friend. Who happens to know how to fight supernatural due to his own quest to get revenge on a demon. Understandable, perhaps, but she worries this might led him down a path she might not be able to forgive him for taking. “If I remember correctly, you were rather quick to learn what I told you once you admitted to yourself that I was rather too kind and pretty to be a demon.”

The teasing is slow and steady even as she keeps her barrage of attacks steady, ensuring a modicum of protection for the two of them. She is older and better trained, likely to be able to continue fighting for the rest of the night with the magic to bolster her.

“Now that I can believe, but you do have a breathtaking resilience, darling. No matter how many times your pretty ass is knocked down, you always seem to come back up,” her compliment flows smoothly as she raises a palm and utters a few choice words in the old tongue, sending wall of flames around them to incinerate the nearest Terrors. “Not as such, I am afraid. Magic might be able to stop the spell’s area of influence from expanding, but it will require a great deal of power. Otherwise? The spell focus must be broken, but I do not know how to reach it.”

"Me," she purrs in agreement, and in a fit of mischief, she stands once more and stalks closer to the wandering fey whose dashing rescue had featured in countless daydreams and wet dreams as well. A slow languid smile graces her lips as she moves, movements feline and predatorial as she approaches the woman she owes a life debt to. Carefully, gently, she raises her hand to place a single finger beneath the other's chin and raises her head just enough so that she can meet her eyes. There is still something ancient and predatory within her eyes— it belongs there after her confirmation as Chancellor and she will not get rid of it — but there is warmth as well, as recognition flickers once more and she finally gets the privilege of drinking in the delicate features adorning the other's face. "I did not get the honor of admiring your beauty, back when you saved me, but now that I have? I can say without a doubt that there was no better high elf to play the role of dashing saviour."

There is something playful to her tone as she speaks, breath fanning over the others cheekbones as she memorizes the depth of her eyes. Then and only then, Robin steps back, breaking the electrifying tension between the two of them as she sits on the edge of her desk and places her hands to her sides.

"Of course I remember, darling. I owe you a life debt, and I am not one to forget that," she informs her, amusement clear even as she makes herself as transparent as possible. "I assume you have a request, if you asked me here in the middle of festivities. In honor to the aforementioned life debt, as long as it is on my hands and it will bring no harm to my people, I will consider fulfilling it."

Thank the Gods the Chancellor was understanding, hopefully as welcoming as the Lunar Chancellor had been to her sibling. But her train of thought abruptly derailed as the cadence of the woman's voice finally hit Hesperia and filled her with a sense of familiarity. Hesperia looked up, straightening slowly as the Chancellor gestured for her to stand. But her eyes and her concentration centered on the familiarity of her face, no longer obscured so much by the dark and gloom of the Otherworld.

It was a fleeting moment, one of darkness and chaos that had enveloped them both. Hesperia was practiced in evasion and hiding, an expert in caring for herself and for her sibling in the worst parts of the Otherworld. There were moments, however, when the path was made clear to her and she knew it would be a particularly difficult one. The Tranquil would be left bound, silent and hidden in a place Hesperia that picked out and enchanted for brief periods of time while the autumn fey went on to scout the trail. Monsters would be dispatched or their presense noted so she could avoid them with her sibling. On one of those very scouting nights she remembered the sensation of nearby fey magic, something she hadn't felt in so long. Hesperia avoided confrontation with the creatures of the Otherworld, if only because she was often not strong enough to dispatch them on her own. So she knew how to evade them but clearly this other fey hadn't been so knowing or so lucky. Hesperia remembered following the trail of bodies left behind of other creatures when finally the sight of her fellow fey came to view, a noble exhausted to the end of her energy by the creatures that had kept finding her.

"You," she blurts out before she could stop herself. What happened to her decorum? Far too long spent away from the Court of the fey. Hesperia's gaze falters with embarrassment from the outburst before she looks back up at Chancellor Robin. "I- I've seen you once, Chancellor. I don't know if you remember... The circumstances weren't ideal."

tati gabrielle via instagram

“What is the drink’s name, darling? I might have tried it, although if it was created recently maybe not. I have been going down the list of Cocktails with Dirty Names over the last year to see how they all taste,” she admits with a shrug, eyeing the brightly pigmented drink with curiosity. She did like sweet things, after all, maybe she should try one. As fun as it is to try out new cocktails, though, she is rather disappointed that the Senator had failed to acquire fey liquor for the occasion. Such poor hosting manners from the vampire. “Have you tried shots? I am sure if we do enough  of those we might get to feel buzzed.”

           @senatusstarters​, open,

          “Have you had one? They’re marvelous,” she’s holding a ridiculously pigmented beverage; it’s almost a fluorescent pink accented by baby blues. It’s not something the Senator had on the menu but it’s certainly something Siofra cannot get enough of, the alcohol hardly up to par with that you could find in the Otherworld, but they’re delighted all the same. “I believe I’ve what is called a sugar rush, but perhaps if I drink enough I’ll be drunk off my ass like the rest of you,” she’d heard the term uttered to one inebriated party goer and had pocketed the term for future use; which was now.