"Well, That Does Complicate Things," She Admits Slowly, Yet Reluctantly, Eyebrows Raising Until They

"And it is a tragedy it did not become a more regular occurrence," Robin said with an exaggerated sigh as her wings flutter and disappear, the flickering multicolor fungi passing as freckles retreating until they are gone, and with it the tips of her ears. Her outfit melts away, the fungi upon her dress shifting into a long sweater that reads Merry Gothmas you filthy animal. Then she continues walking, ignoring the suspicion hinting on her expression. She is smart to be wary, but that will not stop the upcoming prodding, not when she is far too curious about the topic at hand. "Althought, perhaps I can be convinced to change my mind to visit the Saturnalia Market instead."

"... Mimosas and sweets," Aurora mused, briefly glancing towards the Dusk Chancellor who had appeared at her side. The elf's incredibly long dark hair shortened with her ears; her clothing went from a regal elven gown to casual human clothing. Even winter's cold touch was repressed as they both passed the border together out of the Fey Forest. "I think the last time we did that we were barely 100 years old." There was something almost amused in her expression but it was a lot more quizzical and even a bit suspicious.

who? @wintersaurora @zahryaofspring @chancellorxlaer where? rome when? after the power rangers depowered notes: not a four way dw, it's just a general open for the three of you

"There you are," a sigh of relief leaves her lips as she reaches her fellow Chancellor. Inan had given her an overview of the situation, but their plan has been set and they require the Titan's strength to continue. Tamlen's death is a tragedy, and she worries they won't be able to continue without him, worries that Thanatos cancelling death will not apply to their kind and they have lost yet another one individual. But she cannot think like that, not when every minute is essential and she has to find the other Chancellors in order to determine if they can proceed as planned or adjust. "Do you know where the others fell?"

wadecalhoun​:

          Wade had garnered apprehension over this puerile and fanatical idea the entire night it had been concocted. He’d had his own passions and desires for destroying certain species but had learned, over time from Robin, how the fey had merely wished to live unbothered by society; integrated but never harmed. Theneras’ provocation, their senseless violence against Rome had pulled the trigger and sent a frenzied outlook onto Rome. A zealous approach from hunters who hungered for blood and destruction, intent on blind chaos rather than a pragmatic approach between the blurred lines of those who inflicted harm and those who projected peace. He already flinches as Robin’s wounded visage comes into view, averts his gaze as hands grab a hold of her.

These people, the Eye, are meant to be who he swears a blind allegiance to, but his motives have never been entrenched in mindlessly following a crowd. His story was a simple one, drowned in the blood of innocents, his lifestyle a collateral of the pain inflicted upon him. His family was murdered by a demon, destroyed from the inside out and it was within his due diligence to make that pain matter. Robin had approached him so compassionately when he’d come at her blindly with a knife all those years ago. She may have laughed in his face, defended herself, but she had come to teach him the nuances of species and he had to be grateful to her that Wade had merely survived so long based on her teachings.

Before Robin, Wade had been all ire and sinew; inflicting blind rage on demons and witches; sometimes species who likely weren’t either being caught up in his destructive path. She may not have realized she had honed in his abilities, made him a more adept hunter. He used to be able to brunt the injuries, smile through the stab wounds or vampire bites, broken bones and bloodied noses. Now, he’d learned to avoid them, play into the advantages he’d learned from Robin.

Wade clears his throat as the gaggle of Eye hunters he’d surrounded himself with make a mockery of Robin, laugh in her face. “Maybe she’s right, we dunno what waits inside.“ It’s a pathetic attempt to get them to quit while they’re ahead. The Forest will not welcome strangers and they reside on the border, Robin now a victim to their senseless games. They’re hardly listening to Wade, he’s never been a commanding authority figure and Wade takes a cowardly step back, merely overwhelmed, as he hears the flick of an iron switchblade.

...

Eight paltry words. That is what years of friendship had bought her, that is what the countless times she had saved his life had bought her. Eight fucking words. Eight words he hadn’t even meant. There is no attempt to command his fellow hunters, tension on his shoulders as he prepares to help her. Nothing but eight weakly said words said before stepping back and leaving her to the mercy of a crowd of merciless hunters. Now, more than ever, she understands Zahrya’s hate for humanity, for their weak hearts and loyalties. Now, more than ever, wishes she could keep that hate on her heart, but even now it fades as she looks at Wade an all she can feel is all encompassing grief.

She had thought — She had thought they were friends, she loves him as one. Loves him enough to make him a healing artifact, loves him enough to grant him passage unto their last defense, their last asylum, loves him enough to return to him time and time again to ensure he has been safe, that he was alright. Love and loyalty given freely over the years, because she has a kind heart that only wants to give, and yet all she has gotten as repayment is what? Empty promises to help with the drows, an infiltration when her kind is near extinction and nothing but eight fucking words to try and stop the hunters he has guided into her home.

Robin’s grief is so, that she fails to hear the iron switchblade, fails to see as it is aimed as her as she keeps her betrayed stare at Wade. Fails to do anything but to double in pain as it’s used to gut her as she screams at the searing pain trailing behind the blade. She doesn’t collapse unto herself, as she wishes, doesn’t wail aside from the first scream, keeping herself locked in place as she hears the distant echo of changelings and lycans approaching to hunt for trespassers and makes the decision to give her former friend one last kindness. Eyes raising up to meet Wade as she feels her blood leave her, she gives him a grim, sardonic smile.

“Run, Red Riding Hood, before the wolves and our protectors get you for this, run,” she says, words sharp and painful, coming out as a threat to those who do not know her, but as a warning meant to reach Wade’s ears and his ears alone.

Survive so that you can leave with your choices, traitor.

Magic has always been a second thought, the swell of it coming to her aid without hesitation or thought. Rarely has she used as extensively as she does in battle, and rarely has she been left with nothing but the dredges of it after a spell. But the Titan is no ordinary spell, and her magic is not limitless. The thought tastes bitter as she feels Tamlen's death and falls. There is no enough to gather the dredges to stop her descent before Inan catches her, and Robin does not even try, trusting her warder to accomplish his duty. As they descent unto the roof, Robin eyes their surroundings thoughtfully and notes the direction the other Chancellors fell. She will have to rejoin them sooner rather than later. "Exhausted, but that will not stop me," she admits with a thankful nod as she stands and stretches for the first time in days. "My thanks for the rescue, my dashing knight. But do drop the title, it's altogether too stuffy and I have never been one for pomp."

@thegoodfellow location: Rome notes: warder things

Everyone connected to Tamlen felt the sudden severance of his life. Sharp and swift. Time was all but an illusion to the fey, they'd been at it for days, but moments later the Titan began to glow, then broke apart as the chancellors were scattered. The well of magic he'd had access to gone, Inan still had his own, and even without it that would not have stopped him from coming to Robin's aid. She fell and the warder lept to catch her before he landed with the soft footfalls on the opposite rooftop, the chancellor in his arms. Around them the city was in flames, the streets were a butchery, and the sky was an obsidian night. Cloudless. Starless. There was just the drow above them. Inan set her down on her feet, "Are you alright my lady?"

who? @wardercloud

where? summer’s sands

“How are you doing?” She asks, once she finally finds them amidst Laer’s Summer Sands. The Pilgrim had gone above and beyond designing the Summer Court’s new refuge, but despite everything, it is a pale comparison of the home that had once belonged to them. It’s impossible to compare less than a month of work to the countless years and centuries that had been spent on the creation of the Courts. Young and old had come together to create a home, and now it is all lost to the Drow Queen’s domain. It would make her furious, it does make her furious, but she is weighted too much by the grief of betrayal for that anger to manifest. Not yet, at least. It had been the same with her brother’s death, first grief came and overwhelmed her, then anger and the desire for revenge. Her time would come, but for now, she would follow her grief and ensure those she loves are as well as possible with all the circumstances. “The last few weeks have not been easy on any of us, but they might have hit you harder.”

wadecalhoun​:

          “Hell, I thought we were friends,” Wade snickered as a hand was held over his heart, as if Robin had uttered a moral offense that could not be remedied. “Just doin’ my obligated duties as bein’ a good friend an’ all that nonsense.” A smile laden with the shards of grief that he is incapable of swallowing down takes hold, matches the detachment in Robin’s eyes, but he’s good at deflecting, always has been. It’s how Wade has computed survival into himself, a prominent and almost primal sense as he has somehow survived things most humans would perish beneath. He’d battled supernaturals through grit teeth and broken bones, blood staining his clothes and flesh, only to come out stronger each time. Wade fiddles with the packets of sugar that are always automatically lingering upon the table, tearing open the brown packet and pouring it onto the napkin that sat in front of the position he now occupied, “Just haven’t seen ya’ since all that ruckus at the Pluto Palace,” he puts an obnoxious flair and emphasis on the destroyed palace’s name, flippantly disregarding all they’d lost.

....

“That we are, my dear southerner,” Robin drawls, her smile turning smaller but gaining a soft twist as she raises her hand and swipes away a couple of strays tears before focusing her full attention back on the hunter. The grief is still settled upon her chest, and she is aware she must let it out at some point, but not right now, not in front of someone who would care. Silently, she wraps her hands around the mug in front of her and lets the warmth seep into her fingers as she feels a measure of fondness settle on her chest at his subtle concern. She takes another second or so to compose herself, pull back the tears but keep the grief on her eyes that match his. Then, carefully, she reaches forward to place a hand upon his and squeeze softly. It’s a small gesture, meant to comfort and to show her empathy, before she pulls her hand back and wraps it once again around the cup. “I have been rather busy, but I do apologize for not reaching out. My newest promotion to Chancellor might have me busy, but I should have made time.”

The Puppeteer~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 25+ SPECIES. Eladrin SEASON. Fall  OCCUPATION. UTP

You were born amidst a torrent of violence, the earth split at your arrival as the stage was set for you to stride upon the heels of destiny. The Eye has existed nearly as long as your kind has walked this Earth, for as long as there have been mortals, there has been some semblance of the shadowy organization that has plagued the supernatural races of the world. You sewed your magic into the youth of the world, made deals with the desperate and the lost and promised them the family they always wanted - but in the minds of each laid the spell that you had left for them. A silent charm that guided them to the waiting arms of The Eye, if you could not destroy them with your own hands then you would infiltrate them with the hands of others. With a breath of life you brought into a plan of your own division, free of the influence of chancellors or senators, this was your promise to your people: justice. Justice for those who were taken too soon, justice for those who were kept from you still, and justice for those that were taken in by the falsehoods of man.

THIS SKELETON IS CURRENTLY TAKEN.

who? @thanatcsx where? Robin's residence, the Autumn Fields

Before her lays a lavish table, offerings weighting upon it, each more delicious than the last. A feast fit for a king, a welcome fit for a god. The rumors are true, she has found, Death walks amongst Roman and countrymen. After her acceptance by the Múkēs Holt, her council had advised her to reach out to the ancient being, the one that had been spotted amidst the satyr's sordid festivities. With how her domain of influence bowed to his, she could not deny the wisdom on the advice, not when rot and decay followed Death and fed on the corpses of those He collected. She would be remiss not to make contact, and truly, she was rather interested on meeting the god as it is. Leaning back against her seat, Robin gives the table set for the two of them critically, smiling as Genise makes her presence known from the fireplace where she slumbers.

Homely, yet dignified. It is not a feast on the level of Antiquity, but that can come later. For now, she merely wants to introduce herself to the god, merely wants to give him the awareness of her acceptance into her role and what it meant.

"Master of Secrets, Lord of the Sacred Lands, Inpu," Robin's voice resonate as she swirls the goblet on her hand. "Death, I welcome you upon my Autumn's Fields, upon my hearth. I invite you to join me on consuming the fruits of my courts labor. Step into my home, and enjoy my hospitality, He Who Is In The Place of Embalming, my table has been laid for you."

zahryaofspring​:

✿*° ‘° ･

He understands after hearing Robin’s words why so many of the fey struggled to accept his viewpoints on their lessers. They probably thought like her, drawing distinctions between insignificant lifeforms. There were allies and special considerations, dangers and risks. How burdensome it must be to place more stock in those beneath them. If only they could see them as Zahrya had for nearly a thousand years, nothing more than puddles of viscera between Asterion’s jaws. The lessons his warder taught him still rang true today: mortals would only ever be violent creatures, and sometimes the only answer to their violence was violence of your own. “The blessed children can have a chance to return to us, but those who don’t take our side deserve their fate. We’ve been at war since before I was born, it’s due time we bring it to a close.” What more was there to say? Clearly he was the only Chancellor who understood loyalty. He made a vow to Titania and he would enact her will even if he had to go about it alone. He was done with these games of politics and passivity. He was a force of nature, now more than ever. If he’d acted on his own sooner, then surely many of the cruel fates the eladrin faced recently would’ve been avoided. “I will not be defined by cowardice. If you are content being afraid of your inferiors, then I will let you rot like the leaves in autumn. Destroying the Eye, destroying the Asphodel, destroying the realm, it’s all the same. We should only worry about protecting those who stand with us. I have no love to spare for those who’d do us harm, either through action or inaction.”

@thegoodfellow​

...

“Do tell me more about this war of yours, this war that Titania did not acknowledge, this war that you seem so sure we are fighting when few others are,” she insists in an attempt to understand the man’s motivations, voice soft as she tilts her head to observe the Spring Chancellor with consideration. “Perhaps it is my age, but I had the understanding that the Eye did not become a more overt threat until recently, and that the only war the fey truly worried about for as long as you have been alive was the inevitable fight against the drows?” The Spring Chancellor had always fascinated her, the oddness of his actions clear even when compared to other’s his age. Fen’harel, Laer, Revas, her parents, they all comported themselves rather differently than the Chancellor before her, and while she understands that she is in dire need to begin separating herself from her own affections towards humanity, she is always surprised at Zahrya’s rancor for the species Titania helped create as he worships the former Queen. “You call it cowardice, but you are wrong, Chancellor,” she offers, words firm. “Destruction is not a domain usually associated to Spring, thus you must fail to understand that not being wary of your enemies will bring your downfall. It’s those who are not wary of the storm that are struck by lightning, and overconfidence is dangerous when dealing with the creature’s whose creation Titania blessed.”