— gairnéad —

Garnet Fairchild. Archfey. HBIC. Shylock. Cunning linguist. Fairy godmother for hire. If I was you, I'd want to be me, too.                   — ᴋɪʟʟ 'ᴇᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇss —

[brutallyscft]

Rosewater

Who: @sorrelnotsorry When: Sept 15, 2018, 2pm Where: Garnet’s apartment

“Don’t you worry, Sorrel darling, I’ll sort this out in no time,” Garnet said, her brown eyes warm and inviting as she opened the door to usher her partner in crime into her lavish penthouse on the top floor of the Easton. It was tastefully decorated with premier designer furniture; she had a master ensuite bathroom with an expansive marble vanity, a guest bathroom, a guest bedroom, a walk-in closet, an eat-in kitchen with a dishwasher, and a sunken living room for entertaining. She led him directly to her ensuite bathroom and sat him on the soft cushioned chair that was in front of the three-faceted mirror.

No one knew the acute loss of the Court’s glamour like Garnet and Sorrel did. In truth, perhaps, Sorrel knew the loss better, because at least Garnet’s pours were so small and her skin glowed dewy on its own, which she was ashamed to say his did not do the same. But! She could make it so. She couldn’t glamour him, but she had more than her fair share of tricks up her sleeve. Herbs were a Seelie specialty, after all. Opening up one of the cabinets, she pulled out a small vial of pale pink translucent liquid with an opalescent shimmer to it; Garnet took out a cotton ball and dabbed some across his forehead and the rest of his face, perfecting his skin’s minor imperfections. Luckily, he only had minor imperfections; this wouldn’t do for scarring.

“How have you been holding up with all this?”

[brutallyscft]

Spa, Drugs, and Rest & Roll

Who: @zinnia-fairwind When: Sept 14, 2018, 12pm Where: Premier 57 Spa

Garnet looked over from where she was lying, feeling the masseuse’s hands work on her back, which was the tensest part of her body; she carried a lot of stress in her neck, plus bending over books and sitting in chairs left her midback aching. She looked forward to her weekly Friday lunch dates with Zinnia, where they did a ‘couples’ massage over at Premier 57. It didn’t matter to Garnet that she wasn’t a fire fey: she was Seelie and she was indulgent. “So, how’s this week been for you, Zin?” she asked easily as she relaxed into the massage. “I had to talk to this asshole who I almost gave an exorbitant loan to just to torture him, honestly, but he would have been no good to us. If you can’t be any good to us, what good are you, I ask? But I couldn’t have dealt with him, that’s for sure.”

Garnet sighed and tried to think more positively; denying him a loan meant that sooner or later someone would come to collect on his life, but that wasn’t her department. Her department concerned itself with acquisitions and collateral and granting wishes; all the same thing, really. “What do you think of Tiger’s new appointee, Zircon?” she asked, but her voice wasn’t cruel, it was teasing, because she wasn’t sure but she might have caught Zinnia staring at him once or twice—though why she wouldn’t venture an assumption at this point, though he wasn’t bad on the eyes. “Such a shame about Tiger, I’m going to miss her dearly, she was an excellent Lure.” She spoke as if Tiger were dead instead of retired, though it was nearly the same to her until they had their inevitable jovial run-ins at the castle.

[brutallyscft]

Loitering

Who: @tylers-youngs When: Sept 14, 2018, 7pm Where: Oakenfold outskirts

Winter was approaching; Garnet could sense it, even as the trees did. Even while the grey skies hung overhead and the late summer hurricanes threatened with the haze of rain, even while the humidity could choke (though she liked it), even while the temperatures still sang of beaches and cicadas, winter was coming. The leaves were falling. And with them, came the hearts of humans, always too fickle to withstand the colder weather, left wanting ever something more. Autumn was ideal hunting season. She stepped across the white stripes of the crosswalk, chai latte in hand, as she headed back to Oakenfold.

As she approached, she saw a young man staring up at the exterior in hesitation. She didn’t recognize him on sight; had he been before and here again, regretful, repentant? Was he new, tempted and intrepid? Or was he simply—well, that was as good an excuse as any. With pep in Garnet’s step, she walked nearer to him and said cheerily, “Oh, hello! Are you looking for somewhere to get out of the rain for a bit?” She gestured to the casino so as to not seem a total lunatic, explaining, “I work here, there are more than a fair amount of seats if you need one, and I’m sure I could find Zircon to hook you up with a starter token,” she offered.

[brutallyscft]

Blue Note

Who: @willcwfairbank When: Sept 13, 2018, 7:30pm Where: Blue Note Jazz Club

Willow had asked Garnet to meet her down in Unseelie territory—the thought of it alone normally made her insides tremor. Not out of fear, of course; Garnet had her wits and skills about her and felt no threat in the opposite Court’s territory as long as she kept her manners proper. No, a tremor of slight disgust. Downtown was just so much grittier, so much dirtier, than the pristine architecture and manicured sidewalks of trees and marble uptown. She wasn’t sure if Willow authentically wanted to see the jazz performer on tonight—at least the music was well enough—or if they had other things on their mind better lent to a loud environment.

Garnet stood from the supper table by the stage she’d acquired for them, early as always, and with a warm smile on her face gave a gentle wave to draw attention as she saw Willow enter. Sitting again, her long legs luxuriously stretched beneath the supper table, she’d already ordered tableside champagne for them to enjoy. “Oh, I like slumming it, Will,” Garnet said feverishly. The thought that even her version of slumming it involved champagne was lost on her. “How exciting. And there’s only... three of them?” she asked, indicating the trio who would be performing in a half hour. Just saxophone, bass, and drums.

[dinah-lance]

Jameela Jamil photographed by John Tsiavis for Vera Magazine (2018)