the starved

"Idiots think hunger – is the body. No, hunger – is the soul, the whole weight of it falls directly on the soul." aran byrne. leanan sídhe. they/she/he.

[aranbyrne]

medraultxevunial​:

-

Only a young prince still, Medrault had knelt before King Arthur in his prime and promised the man that he would return with news of a creature’s defeat. That the leanan sídhe who’d drained individuals of their lives so close to Camelot would be stopped one way or another. Under Arthur’s rule all creatures were evil, but a leanan sídhe by nature had to kill in order to survive. Just like the moroi they were dangerous, too dangerous for the king to allow them to live on this side of the veil. 

Finding the brazen creature was an easy task, the individual flaunted their presence by staying so close to the city, and not moving on after take a lover’s soul once and for all. The creatures were not inherently strong, their survival all but hinged on their ability to avoid discovery. In a way Medrault felt sorry for them, unwanted on the other side, and with no true home here. Still, he had no intention of attacking or doing as Arthur had asked, though it was important to earn the man’s trust just the same. 

“Your lover, sickly, and on their deathbed spoke of your location.” Medrault commented simply as the door revealed the face of the leanan sídhe within. “The king is calling for your head.”

---

"Oh really? That wasn't very nice of him." Their lover. Technically, the label was true, but they couldn't help but smile at it. They were about as fazed by the news that the human was dead as they would be by the news that the mutton they'd eaten the night before was from a dead sheep. It was a natural fact of life.

They took a step forward and placed their fingers on Medrault's chin. They searched his face, inspecting him the way one might with a workhorse they were considering purchasing. "So you're the assassin, then? You don't much look the part," they informed him. "They're normally stronger. And I should probably warn you, I nearly always kill them. At least the sweet ones get to have a nice time before they die. No pain at all."

They leaned in, kissing the inches of space between their lips and Medrault's. Then, quick as they could, stepped back through the doorway and let their hand fall back to their side. As much as they liked to show off how unbothered they were, they didn't really want to be run through with a sword. "Why don't you come in?" they offered. "Have a drink?"

[aranbyrne]

llcrcan​:

++

The had wolf graciously took him back to the woods, away from the chaos it had created through the night. The shift from wolf to human was a lot louder than the shift from human to wolf. Without the beast holding back its snarls and whimpers. After the fur and fangs shed themselves off, only then did Lorcan regain his human conscience, pushing himself to his knees off of all fours he looked to the blood that covered his hands and coated his skin, long ago dried as it wasn’t his own. Grimacing there was a long pause before his body retched up the remains of whatever poor soul the wolf had consumed that night.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he shakily stood up, holding onto a tree while he waited for human thoughts to kick in. Jumping when he heard another voice, his head shot towards the sound. Taking a moment to take in when they had said he watched the stranger with confusion and uncertainty. Clearing his throat he tentatively spoke; as though expecting a bark to come out instead of a voice. “That is mighty kind of you to offer.” realizing he really had no idea where he was in regards to his home, “I’d appreciate that…thank you.” 

---

Good boy. He was very agreeable. They were dangerous things, werewolves, but that only made them all the more exciting. Aran flashed him a bright smile, then headed off through the forest, expecting him to follow behind. They were off to a great start already.

They took him on a winding path through the dense forest. No mortal should ever be able to stumble onto their house on their own. They'd hidden it away in the woods so that one had to know what they were looking for in order to find it. And most people who learned of its location didn't survive to tell the tale to anyone else.

They glanced back every few minutes, just to make sure he was still following. Soon enough, they saw their little cottage in the distance. "There's mine," they called back cheerily, "not much further!"

Upon arriving at the door, they pushed the door open. Behind their house, a stream babbled, while birds chirped in the trees around it. It was quite a lovely, pastoral place. Great for paintings. "Feel free to go around back and wash yourself off, if you'd like. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I have plenty to drink."

[aranbyrne]

marcellabelanades​:

-

She’s quick to gesture with her free hand towards the flash of violet. They’re beautiful up close, so much that the clinking of their goblets is what brings her back down to the scene before her. “Marcella.” She offers, smile playing across her lips. The mead is indeed doing wonders and there was no Ingira, no Elora, no suitors or problems, it was just her and…Well, she was among magic, but it wasn’t public, it wasn’t as elaborate or beautiful as a Samhain on the moors, but it was something. It was a modicum of freedom that she’d earned, an evening away from problems. “Your eyes, they are beautiful. They are….” Marcella ducks her head slightly and gives a soft laugh because it is foolish to say it out loud. It is foolish she cannot say out loud. “Something, yes?” Magic, a trick, a lovely glamour.

---

Marcella ducked her head, and Aran pressed the tips of their fingers to her chin, gently lifting her face up again so that they could get a proper look at her. She was terribly sweet. They grazed a thumb against her jaw, soft as a kiss.

"Your eyes are beautiful," they insisted, a playful smile making their expression light up. "You shouldn't ever try to hide them, darling, it's a travesty."

They dropped their hand back to their side. "My own are nothing special. They're just like this, no tricks involved." They had gotten the reaction from enough mortals to know what this one was likely thinking. With a smile, they took a small sip from their goblet. After a beat, they added, "I hope they don't bother you."

[aranbyrne]

marcellabelanades​:

It is not a smart idea by any means, to be joining in on the festivities alone and yet, Marcella figures she is allowed. She is allowed a moment of allowing her emotions to get the better of her and being driven to mead that tastes of honey and raspberries. It is what adults do, is she not an adult now? She’d long ago done away with childish things in the moors, and yet under the ever present gaze of the matriarchs of her family, she often felt stifled, like a doll to be dressed and toted along. “I quite like this.” She lowers her goblet and speaks to no one in particular until her eyes fall upon a flash of purple irises and she pauses, looks to her drink and then back up at the person. “Is that a trick?” @aranbyrne​

---

The Samhain festivities were the perfect hunting ground. Humans were getting drunk and making out with virtual strangers anyway; Aran didn't stand out from the crowd one bit. They spotted a particular sweet, innocent-looking mortal and sidled up to her. Given the looks of her, they suspected that she was quite new to these festivities - or at least, new to being unaccompanied.

"Is what a trick, darling?" They made eye contact with her, ensuring she could get a good, long look at their eyes even as they feigned innocence. They clinked their goblet against Marcella's. "I hope you’re enjoying the mead. You may call me Aran, if you wish. What's your name?"

[aranbyrne]

@llcrcan​

Aran hadn't been looking to find anyone. They'd actually been on the way back to their home; even they could get exhausted from the festivities, though they'd had an absolutely lovely night in someone else's bed. As they headed through the forest, though, they stumbled across something that had them stopping in their tracks.

Wolf prints, deep in the ground. They glanced up at the sky. It was still dark, the sun only just rising on the horizon. With a grin, they decided to follow the prints. It didn't take them long to find him: a man only just changing back from his wolf form. They leaned against a tree, crossed their arms, and waited for him to notice them.

But that took too long. After a moment, they cleared their throat. "Rough night? You look terribly rundown." They took a small step closer. "My house isn't too far, if you'd like to clean up. I don't think you want anyone from there," she jerked a thumb back toward Camelot, "seeing you like this."

[aranbyrne]

@cericadogan​

Camelot was a city of mostly humans. The area that was now called Camelot certainly hadn't always been this way, but knowing its history and what the Pendragons had done to Avalon, it was only natural. Still, every once in a while, Aran ran into a creature that managed to surprise them. Ceri was, without question, one of those.

They hadn't set out looking for a kelpie. It was late at night, and they were walking by the harbor when they caught sight of her. A beautiful woman in a dress that was positively soaked in blood, visible even in the moonlight. Aran nearly laughed at the sight of her. Messy eater? Or a stabbing victim, perhaps, but she didn't look half so frightened.

They approached with a jaunty little wave. "I hope you know how to wash that," they said, motioning at her dress. "Blood doesn't come out easy. You'll want cold water, for one thing, but you've got that in excess I suppose. And if you can get your hands on lemon juice and leave it out in the sun, it might lighten the stain. Do you own other clothes, or do you plan to just walk around like that? I mean, bold choice, I'm not criticizing! Just curious."

[aranbyrne]

@caspermacanghoill​

Aran was having a lovely time at Camelot's Samhain festival. If these mortals knew literally nothing else, they knew how to throw a decent party. They always felt stronger, more vibrant, when the veil between worlds was bolstered - and this year, with no compunctions about stealing souls left and right, they felt even better.

They'd just watched a wonderful performance at the theater (they had always been a big fan of the arts, visual and performance), and they were absolutely determined to find the theater's owner. If only to see what sort of scripts he could produce if they nibbled off just a bit of his soul. They spotted him in the crowd just outside the theater, talking to a patron, and they wasted no time in interrupting.

"It's Casper, is it?" they asked, extending a hand for a handshake. Their smile was warm as they said, "That last performance was amazing, and your theater is just beautiful. Might I persuade you to come out for drinks with me? I'll buy."

[aranbyrne]

@ofiseult​

They'd spotted the little would-be assassin earlier in the night, participating in the festival's revelries as if he was just like any of the other common folk that littered the city. Startling, because the last time Aran had seen him, they'd been certain they'd killed him. Obviously, they hadn't been as successful as they expected. Well, they would just have to try again.

They followed the assassin through the night, until, finally, he slipped away from the crowds and made his way down empty streets and dark alleys. Just as he rounded a corner, Aran closed the distance between them and seized him by the arm, dragging him back to press the tip of their knife to his neck. 

They thought they had taken him by surprise...until cold metal pressed against their stomach through their dress. They looked down at Iseult's knife, eyebrows raised, then back up at their own digging into his neck. Slowly, their lips curled into a smile.

"Oh, come on. Do we really want to play this game again? I thought you had gotten quite enough of it the first time. How about I cut you a deal? I'll count down from three, and on one, we'll both step back." Their smile widened into a toothy grin. Clearly, they didn't expect Iseult to actually buy that. "Or we can both stab each other at the same time and see who dies first. But I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve been alive a very long time, so I like my odds on that one.”

[aranbyrne]

@medraultxevunial​

Aran's house was a ways outside Camelot, hidden amongst tall trees in a deep forest. For precisely this reason, visitors were rare unless Aran led them there. They'd made their house difficult to find on purpose. They spent little time in it, and the truth was that they didn't have much use for it except for, well, taking humans home. So suffice to say, they were surprised to hear a knock on the door.

They were also a little irritated to be pulled away from their painting. They had only just been struck with inspiration! Well, more than likely it was their former lover, come to mock them. Or some silly assassin sent by the Knights of the Round, again. It would hardly take long. They flung the front door open, already scowling. "What could you possibly need -"

It was not their former lover. Nor was it an assassin. Or at least, the stranger on their doorstep didn't look the part. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye. They cocked their head to the side, eyebrows knitting together. "Oh. Who are you, then? How did you find me?"