voxdaemonicaâ:
The buzz of adrenaline was just starting to fade as Celine took another gulp of water from her flask. Ever since the brawl in the Autumn Court, it felt like every one of her nerves had been wound taut, sensitive to even the slightest change in the environment around her. For so long she had lusted for battle, to show the Fae the exact same sort of nightmare that humans had endured for centuries, and to finally unleash that pent-up rage had been nothing short of euphoric. Yet when the Resistance had finally begun to ascend as a force to be reckoned with, its foundations had cracked apart, crumbling over nonsensical bullshit and leaving the murderous blonde blood-starved and impatient.Â
She had lasted about a week before she had taken her bow and favourite knives back to her usual haunt. The stag she felled was far too big to be carried back to the Resistanceâs elusive headquarters, but at least the exercise soothed her frustrations a bit. Even more important, it gave her the perfect bait for the one person she had yet to check in on. Celine had dragged it about half-heartedly, placing the carcass just slightly off her usual route until she was positive the scent could be found downwind. And there she had remained, carving nonsensical patterns into the log that she rested on while she waited to see if her quarry felt like showing up today.Â
And then, as she considered taking some of the deer for a late lunch, a pair of wolves broke through the treeline, making a direct path to her kill while their mistress finally came into view. To see the Wild Hunt Fae in all her glory, unscathed from battle wasâŠwell she wouldnât quite say it was a relief, because that implied feelings. She had given those up in the new year along with the final fuck she had left to give about the Resistanceâs internal drama.
âIâm afraid youâll need to be more specific, Ada. My people, as you so eloquently put it, have been quite busy these days.â Celine huffed as the wolves took the stag for themselves, but did nothing to stop them. She couldnât fault a beast for wanting a free meal, but they didnât have to look so elated about it all the damned time. âThe gala was a friendly reminder that the nobility should watch their backs. Itâs hardly my fault that your gracious hosts just happened to be the perfect kindling.â The hunter shrugged, indifferent to the accusation at hand. They were all true, for the most part. âItâs almost funny. I would have thought killing a High Lord would have been far more shocking, but I suppose when you see a Faeâs godhood stripped away before a crowd, it leaves a more lasting impression.âÂ
She stood up them, her relaxed stance betrayed only by the subtle brushing of her fingers against the worn handles of her blades. With Ada, there was no telling whether their heated conversations would lead to fighting or complications, but Celine enjoyed the surprise of it. âReally Ada, did you expect us to sit there and lie down when the opportunity was ripe for the taking? Itâs hardly our fault that your new ally was too short-sighted to notice a threat when it was right in front of him.â
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A faint scoff soon followed Celineâs all but boastful admission of her kinâs busy exploits as of late, not even bothering to dignifying it with a response. Like hell the hunter didnât know the exact debacle she was referring to. âSo an all out declaration of war then? Iâd have thought not even you capable of such foolishness.â The lupine fae commented firstly, nobility believing themselves vulnerable would never lead to anything less. âYou say that as though itâs not simply a matter of perspective. To Dawn it certainly was - However I personally couldnât care less about the courts and their monomania. A High Lord is killed, the most cutthroat successor best utilises such chaos, those whispers of their predecessorâs weakness used as an excuse for far more sadistic tendencies....The same as itâs been for centuries. You hardly cut the head off the snake, my dear. You merely gave the humans that reside there even more to worry about.â Ada scarcely knew why she bothered to argue the point, they would never exactly see eye-to-eye on such things. âI care about Night because our King does, which means I now have to potentially become involved in this shitshow.â Â
It was almost palpable how the air shifted slightly as the hunter stood. Both falling into easy patterns of instinct so intricately crafted over the many years theyâd been playing this little contrivance. Admittedly far more lax around each other than they had been in early years, but it hardly meant Ada wasnât still be privy to the potential bite of those iron-laced blades every once in a while. A reaction now more reserved, but riling Celine up to such extent was usually when things got interesting. The exhaustion that weighed on her shoulders had her in no particular mood for a fight, yet it was still far too easy for elevated sight to track the barely there graze of hands against those well-used hilts. A smug smirk creeping onto her features as her head faintly cocked to one side. âMaking you nervous already am I, darling? Donât tempt me to truly get you squirming.â It was rather impossible not at least push a handful of buttons when it came to the infuriating human before her, if only for the simple fact she knew a few of her own would be pressed soon enough. The urge to make the first move always much too great.     Â
A notion that was only solidified, as Celine spoke up once more. Buttons indeed. A wonderful tool in her arsenal against most, but hating how quickly the hunter always seemed able to find her own. Some little quip of retort falling away to a dulled snarl slipping from the back of her throat alongside echoes of newfound alliance. Closing the gap with impossible speed, a hand swiftly curled around her adversaries jaw, vice-like and immovable. She barely even knew why it irked her so, but words were falling from her lips before thought had a chance to contemplate it. âYou could have gone for any of them. Any of those still left. Spring, Summer, Winter, Day -- But no, you choose Night. Of course you have to fucking choose Night. You chose our one ally and now something has to be done about it and I...â She trailed off abruptly, biting back the words threatening to slip past and yet still lingering on the tip of her tongue. Instead, the fae settled for pressing a little tighter against that deliciously sharp jaw in her grasp, determined to leave a few marks and give Celine something else to think about while her mind raced for an acceptable answer.Â
The simple truth of the matter one that she despised, the fact that she did not wish to fight Celine. At least not in the capacity she would need to, should her people continue down their blood soaked path. It was a laughable notion to be sure, especially given the majority of whatever this exasperating back and forth between them was had been built on such -- Yet there were always unspoken rules with regards to their eyes only. Ada never could quite find it in herself to use the full extent of her powers or strength, and Celine had never exactly gone for a swift and potentially lethal delve into her heart with those notorious weapons of hers. The impossibility of holding back in a fight surrounded by the groups they held fealty to was a very real concept, made all the more obvious during the tournament. Celine hadnât had her equipment or advantages, and even then Ada hadnât gone all out. It was a thought that found an unsettling weight interweaving itself through her ribcage, pressing inward, making it just a little harder to breath. âI donât give a shit about the vindictive, squabbling band of children you choose to aline with -- I do not want to war with you.âÂ
But even that still felt far too honest an admission, uncomfortably so. A divulgence that could be used and derided, one even Ada didnât fully grasp the gravity of in that moment. She hated this, utterly and entirely despised it. Why she had felt the need to pursue Celine when she was so enervated was beyond her, and she was quickly realising the ramifications of such carelessness. Sleep deprivation apparently did not sit well on her now they had done everything needed. Hairline fractures cracking in her mask of indifference she did not warrant nor agreed with in the slightest. An urge to add some sting to such unwanted contemplations suddenly taking up prominence. âYou would not win, just look at our last little public spat. Not exactly your finest hour, hunter.â She sneered, pushing her away through the grip she held before turning to wander closer to her wolves. A need for space in the hopes of eliminating such rapidly spiralling thoughts from her mind. Â

















