heir of (𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔪𝔫)

i want to melt steel, (̶ ̶d̶r̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶o̶l̶t̶e̶n̶,̶ ̶)̶ and fill the void inside of me.

[auutumn]

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an independent portrayal of 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀, THE PRINCE OF AUTUMN as introduced in the a court of thorns and roses novels.    based entirely on the basis of headcanons, ft. a reinvention of the autumn court.   anti sjm. primarily plot-oriented. permanent low activity.      as allied with doll,    she / her,    18+.  

⅋. ⥽ carrd. visuals. pinterest.

𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍    .  .  .   cruelty as a mask, the snake in the leaves, autumn as a juxtaposition of harvest/abundance and decay/death, gothicism, beauty in the grotesque, letting the old order die, fathers & sons, house on fire, hungry dogs are never loyal, the horrors of the fae, and folktales.

[auutumn]

i was randomly thinking about this.... but i need to see the development of industrialization in the human realm and its subsequent effects on prythian, centuries down the line from the original trilogy. would the fae incorporate some elements? would they develop their own inventions? would they scoff at the ridiculous mortal contraptions? I need 18/19 century vibes in prythian.

[auutumn]

sparring threads when? 🤭

[auutumn]

i would say ship with me but.... eris' one true love is the autumn court.

[auutumn]

the way i am so tempted........ to write queen vassa, with all the slavic folklore/mythology inspo & deathless vibes........

[auutumn]

the fae not having more physically distinguishing markings was such a missed opportunity. beneath the glamors, where are the fangs, the claws, the tails, the puffs of fur, the antlers... i need more fae in these faeries.

[auutumn]

like sir come on now.....

[dryadologist]

@auutumn liked the starter call

"Why are you being so morose today?" Wendell asks from his place on his chosen settee, where he's planted himself since breakfast. "I mean, why are you being more morose than usual today?" Although the statement comes out kiddingly, there is genuine concern in his dark green eyes. He feels some kind of kinship to the Prince of Autumn, despite their differences in personality. He hopes that his boisterous presences serves to cheer up the elder fae (as opposed to cause him to develop a migraine...)

"Whatever it is, Eris, I am here to listen. If you'd much rather keep it to yourself, that's completely fine too." He sits up and offers him a sly smile. "Or if you'd rather, I'm not above challenging you to a friendly duel in your own court. Might be entertaining, seeing as I can only assume you're typically not so equally-matched in your practices."

[auutumn]

morose is certainly one way to put it. if the neatly piled stacks of paperwork could be considered palaces, the ornate armchair would be his throne, the inkpot a treasure, and eris has half a mind to set it all aflame. he hadn't realized he had been sulking over the levies he'd been sorting through until it was so politely pointed out. ❛ i'm not. i'm just focused. if you'd like a jester for company, i can find you one... we've plenty of mirrors. ❜ it passes for a scoff, accentuated by the roll of his eyes, but it is far more sweetened than his usual barbs, betraying a hint of fondness. that, and the little grin playing over his lips. quill set aside, the prince huffs and leans back in his hair, arm draped over the back as he glances toward his companion. ❛ it's simply far too early in the day for enthusiasm. ❜

the offer to talk is effortlessly disregarded — that is one dusty box content to remain locked. he does not have the patience to play coy, not today, and so the spark of interest that has his ears perk up &. head tilting at the premise of a duel with a worthy sparring partner goes unconcealed. ❛ careful, i might just take you up on the offer. in the mood for losing, wendell? ❜

[veritasumbra]

it was him. it was him who'd loosen the cuffs of fire just enough so that she could escape the illyrian warlord’s grasp. the magic had been so faint she couldn’t have been sure back then and she hadn’t bothered to stand in the presence of the autumn prince long enough to find out, knowing his reputation and all. for all she knew, he was no better than her previous master. 

now she was sensing the magic all over her son. it was the same but stronger, permanent. a bargain. another one, though the one with mor didn’t cause her any worry and the one with the previous high lord of night had been broken following his death centuries ago. 

raya is a bit taken aback by the words, which is why the only response he gets is utter silence as she materializes herself in front of him. at first glance, she appears like a typical woman from illyria without the wings (which people assumed were taken from her) who looks very much like her son. she doesn’t wear clothes that are suitable for a lady, though. she wears a typical gardener outfit, a basket of fresh flowers on her left arm. 

those who can see beyond the surface know better, though. she takes off her hat and silky hair as dark as a night without stars comes down to frame a face too young to have mothered a child of azriel’s age. and the eyes… two pools of darkness in which one can easily lose themselves for hours, if not forever. 

she tilts her head to the side as she studies eris.  ❛ i admire how carefully you pick your words, though it would be foolish of me to feel any sort of reassurance from them. ❜ 

❛ Mama ! ❜ azriel exclaims as he strides back to them, forgetting to pretend this woman isn’t his mother. oh well. he regains his composure quickly, though. ❛ I see you’ve met my friend. ❜ he tells his mother after exchanging a glance with eris, letting him know to play along. he hated to involve his mother in any matter of politics but rosehall was the only place it was safe for them to meet. he couldn’t risk eris coming to velaris anymore. not after what happened last time...

[auutumn]

it is like the bark of trees, with all its intricacies, hiding vines and shrubs, and critters, the way they hold secrets between them. a thick wood of deceit. camouflaged between half-truths and guarantees frails as leaves, this alliance with the night court hinges on little. his bargain with the shadowsinger a testament to how cheap his word is to them. he prefers it that way. the ink of truthteller set ablaze upon his skin is almost as sharp as the memory of it pressed against his throat, and eris finds it all utterly amusing. they need his information almost as much as he needs their army, and puff and huff as everyone might, it doesn't change the simple fact of the matter: they need to work together.

the clever glint in his eyes bears its zenith here, in the space of her silence, studying the features of a figure now made corporeal before him, darkness &. mystery weaving a portrait of the lady he remembers from under the mountain. he had not known who she was then, though it would not have changed anything. he would have lifted the fire clasped around her wrists regardless, personal acrimony held between the night court &. himself set aside for that one fleeting moment.

but really, he thinks with some measure of chagrin, the shadowsinger could have done him the courtesy of a quick rundown before arrival. he hadn't expected they would be overseen, and by his mother no less. an odd angle, bringing him here. it had irked him enough to concede to holding these meetings on grounds which were less-than-neutral, though he had known it was a debate he would not be winning were he to breach it in the first place. a few glances stolen around; the architecture, the surroundings, the climate... indications they were still likely in the night court. he couldn't be sure precisely where.

before the prince can gather his wits and respond to the lady, azriel blessedly cuts in &. spares him the remainder of the conversation, and the immediate weight of her judgement. eris catches the glance and adjusts accordingly. ❛ don't be rude, az ... introduce us properly, won't you? ❜ tone honeyed around the edges, a teasing grin, hands coming to lay within the confines of his pockets now that he knows he's playing at companion as opposed to a courtier.

[auutumn]

happy mother's day to the lady of autumn & her perseverance & strength & courage 🥺

[auutumn]

⅋. ⥽ ( serenay ) @epigraphed, you will stop him, any way you must.

daylight here is liquid gold, pouring down every column, crevice, and cornice. solace lends itself to the shade of early morrow. table is set for an opulent breakfast, which eris regards the same way he does most things: with calculating eyes and practised courtesies. he does find the conversation with the general agreeable, pleasant even (...) until he mentions his father offhandedly, and she leads the conversation where he cannot follow in earnest.

❛ politics before breakfast, general? it's rather early for declarations, don't you think? ❜ the words are likely meant in jest, tinged with flickers of faux amusement as though he found the prospect humourous, but there's something else simmering beneath the blasé inquiry. she must know all about keeping secrets &. reputations, so eris only tilts his head, nonchalant as he grasps a pastry off a tray,

❛ indeed, i will ensure the autumn court's prosperity, whatever that may entail. ❜ he says with casual ease, though careful to waltz around her words. it goes unspoken that his father does not fit into such a new order. that is the cycle of the autumn court, death and rebirth caught in an eternal waltz, violence a custom. the prince sees no point in dwelling on it now, with her, when he knows to endure. he doesn't make a habit of disclosing his cards. ❛ lucky for all of us, today that includes the negotiation of our trade routes. ❜

[auutumn]

actual footage of eris and his 12 hounds walking around the grounds of autumn:

[auutumn]

plot ( politically or otherwise ) with eris and i 💍

[auutumn]

⅋. ⥽ @seerfawn, will you crush the life from me, as you do your enemies? or just my spirit, as you do those you love?

there is a cold bite in the air of night, a beast whose name is north, beholden to its mountains and snow, and even the embers eris had snapped into life within the ornate fireplace could not warm him with their lethargic crackle. wherever the bats were, they seemed content to make him wait, letting him roam about one of the old halls. were he not irked, he would be utterly bored. these brief meetings to exchange information would usually be held elsewhere; in the crooks of the clandestine, the border of some court or another. they did not want him here, and he much preferred it that way. alas, on such short notice, and with the pressing nature of the information garnered from intercepted letters, he had to be here, against the desire of all parties involved.

who would have thought he'd ever find himself praying the cauldron sends any of them his way, so they could get this over with and he could return home to hearths and warmth?

prayers half-answered in the form of the middle archeorn sister is an unexpected turn. ❛ should you be here? ❜ he asks before elain has fully stepped into the hall, having caught the light patter of footsteps. her inquiry derives an amused scoff, and he offers her a sharp, questioning smile; a practised affair, this courtesy, ❛ you are certainly not the former. we are allies, aren't we? ❜ it's almost curiosity, what she inspires with her words. he finds himself wondering what she's up to, lingering around where she doubtless should not be, conversing with him. he'd known there was another sister, hidden in the gardens, but she had remained illusive &. fleeting, never quite all there.

❛ if your friends are to be believed, i am not capable of the latter. ❜ he says, as though pondering over some great mystery. ❛ that leaves us at a standstill ... what do you think? ❜

[auutumn]

OKAY......... the high lord prince of autumn. 🤭🍂

[auutumn]

me wanting to write more about the autumn court vs me needing to know more about prythian's geopolitics, civics, and laws.

[auutumn]

there are tricks one learns from hunting. standing behind the shadowsinger, hands clasped behind his back, eris knows to be perceptive, clever eyes sweeping over the manor grounds. he knows to recognise sounds &. patterns, even those of shadows. anything can be taught if one pays attention — it is this ethos that allows him to pick up on azriel's little shadows when they tend to sneak into his court, and it is how he knows he is not alone now, even as azriel strolls inside the estate, telling him to wait outside.

❛ you owe me nothing. ❜ the prince assures the lady, tone measured, courteous. he had never told her it'd been him that day, and even now, he is careful not to confirm it outright. they had never spoken, before or after. he's not sure what impulse had seized him to aid her under the mountain ; perhaps it had been the sight of fire wrapped around her wrists, loathing its cruel crackle, that his dear autumn magic could be misused as such. perhaps it had been the flicker in her eyes that he had seen so many times in his own mother's gaze, wishing someone would help her when he couldn't be there. brutality &. ferocity may burn bright in autumn, eris' own cruelties feeding the flames, but this one act had been granted with no strings.

❛ as for azriel... i understand your concerns, ❜ their shared guarantee, the ink like a tangible weight upon his hip. his standing with the night court is precarious at best and he bears his own concerns but for her sake, he offers whatever sincerity he can muster. ❛ yet it was his decision. no harm will come to him by my hand, you have my word. ❜