she pauses at the instructions, toes ceasing their wiggling. at least she could still move them. bea was always good with instructions. well-disciplined per her army roots before joining the court.
her lips flatten. she did not like the idea of a scarred arch atop of her wings.
"i was walking on the beach," bea answers, tone annoyed. this motherforsaken court. it was a curse. the winged fae was not meant to walk, but here she was - condemned to the ground. "not much heroics in slicing your foot on a broken shell. wonder if your cousin would take any joy in a rock covered in my blood."
it was the mention of ysara's cousin that forced her hand to stop. her fingers stilled in the air, the needle ghosting against the other's skin. the prominent lump in her throat bobbed and she did her best to hold the thinly-veiled emotions at bay.
"i doubt many here in the summer court," those from here and those forced to be here, "would take a liking to anyone's blood." it was vague enough, right? because in truth, ysara didn't know her cousin well enough anymore to speak for them - even if she had her assumptions.
"at least the wound isn't deep, just a quick stitch and some balm and you'll be as good as new. though i'm afraid you'll want to wait before you go venturing along the shore again," the needle slid through again, and ysara's gaze never left the other's. "it's not easy being condemned to a world that isn't your own." though most were from prythian, each court did often feel like an entirely different world from the others. "hopefully you won't have to get too used to the summer court's environment. it can sometimes be unforgiving."
his shoulder spasmed again. too many long years had passed since zacarías last suffered a wound like this --- a gash along his shoulder, once pouring blood now a trickle. blessed by the mother that it wasn't deep. but the sting of pain still bit, swelling discomfort and embarrassment.
and yet, he forced himself still as stone at the directions given. allowed the prick of needle, the feather-light touch. a bemused huff was his first answer, followed with, "not much hero to play at, simply asking a rowdy patron to leave as demanded. my own fault for expecting a different outcome." at least the fight was short-lived, despite the wound suffered.
his gaze finally flicked to the hands sewing skin, then to the fae's face. "thank you. for offering to help. forgive my rudeness for not saying so earlier."
brows perked up as she listened, their words exchanged, but she didn’t comment. not right away. instead her attention remained focused on the wound, carefully closing the cut. “ah, nothing to forgive. i’ve had worse introductions,” ysara chuckled quietly. “and i don’t require thanks. if anything, you're doin' me a favor by keepin' the night busy.”
with a few swift glides of the cloth in her hand, she soaked up the remaining blood before dropping the fabric into the basin beside her - the water blooming a dark, rich scarlet as it was sullied. her fingertips grazed over the stitched line, testing the seal and admiring her own work.
“you’ll be fine by morning,” a hint of pine and mint then filled the space between them as she reached for a covered jar, scooping out a dab of ointment and smoothing it over the injury. "though next time you decide to tell someone settle down, might try to move a bit quicker." a joke, of course, but hopefully they'd pick up on her playful tone.
"better yet, may want to take caution in general until this thing heals. considering it feels like almost half of prythian is staying under one court, that may be easier said than done." not every court worked well together and her anxiety had a habit of jumping to outcomes that were less than ideal.
Xavier hadn't even realized he had cut his arm on the fence when he came through it. It wasn't until he felt the blood dripping down his arm. He had been lucky to run into the healer outside the tavern. "I like everything with a side of personality." He said, but stilled nothing wanting to create to much problem.
"I don't think I caught your name before you began helping me." He said with a sigh. "Neither, trying to take a short cut to get back to the palace and missed the stray fence." He shook his head. "This court hates me." He shook his head.
“mmm,” she mused, the thread pulling tight between her fingers, listening to his words, that same faint curve of her lips. it wasn't the pain others suffered through that made her smile, but how different each person who sat in this very chair was. "ah, you don't need introductions to get help here." she skirted around the question, giving him a quick, pointed glance, and returned to the task at hand.
"and i don't know about that," a hint of laughter then escaped. "the summer court is no easy feat, but hate you? you just gotta get used to it. granted, we do all have a bit love-hate relationship with the place." she paused, a bit of hesitation. "i'm assuming coming here wasn't exactly by choice? where ya from?" evading questions, even ones as simple as asking for her name, was ysara's speciality and was often met with her shifting the conversation on to the other.
❝ i haven't the slightest idea how this happened. ❞ and no, asha would definitely not entertain the notion that as she aged, she lost awareness. could not anticipate perception changes nor believe herself to be further away from something harmful. blaming the deep magic, and the virile and moody shifts of the nature which both she and ysara worked with. she dared not wriggle as the other patient did. ❝ my wounds have enough personality without me to help them. how dreadful. i was minding my own business. ❞
thoughts poured through. how lailah would be admonishing her. how ysara merely teased. the difference in the concept of daughters, and asha never much wished to accept those outside her circle, but as these centuries overtook her, she could not be alone, could she? ❝ it might have been left over from our little jolt into summer, ❞ allowed she. ❝ and i was too preoccupied to notice, and now it demands us to pay attention, as most of these things do. ❞ a healer was not the best patient. indeed, sometimes they often made the worst. she did not much feel the needle nor thread, but the surge of annoyance that came alongside needing the help. even through the ballooning tenderness and pride.
ysara worked by touch more than sight, fingers moving without thought, stitch by stitch. she'd long since memorized the rhythm - needle in, draw through, breathe out. it was easier to focus on that than on the quiet heaviness across from her.
not the wound, but the woman beneath it.
in ysara's eyes, asha always seemed to carry herself like she’d already outlived everything. and maybe she had. there was something about her presence... so steadfast and unbothered, like time broke against her instead of the other way around. ysara hated how safe that made her feel. hated the way her chest softened around her. even with all the walls between them, asha felt like a home she'd never been invited to and somehow, ysara couldn't find the will to leave.
"and you've only just noticed? i can't say i'm surprised, considering it's you i'm talking to," she paused, delicate eyes examining the cut - wondering if it truly was the magic of this jolt that caused it.
"though, if it is at all possible this is because of this little shift, perhaps we should get a second look?" concern colored her words and she bit the inside of her cheek. showing genuine worry and care was never easy, especially when it was someone she had come to be so found of. "who knows the kind of magic could be behind this or what it would mean to be touched by it."
once his court had been settling into their assigned lodgings, in the moments between they finally settled, and gathered everyone, the shock had not waned of seeing his cousin. the very cousin he's searched for since she left, following her father's exile. everything surrounding that has left the high lord of dawn trouble. his father did not allow him into this mess he's made, and he knew it was his father's it has his scent all over it, but it was always with a pang of regret he'd not been able to do anything then. with the shock was also a bit of good news, ysara has been in summer all this time. in truth, saint had his spies in every court, and still she had managed to slip from his radar.
it was when evening fell and all retired to their rooms, he found ysara by the infirmary rooms, and then tailed her until she was near by her room. "you do not wish say hello to your cousin?" he speaks, alerting her of his presence, a lantern in his hand before he allows her to see his features. "i am relived to see you safe and found a home for yourself here."
she had just slipped out of the infirmary when she felt a pull. not magic. not exactly. more like memory. something knotted in the blood and tugged now, low in her belly. the corridor was quiet, the hour late, and the only sound was her own breath...not until she heard his voice.
the light from his lantern cut a warm streak through the dark, casting shadows across his jaw. same eyes, same mouth, same everything and yet, perhaps over the years her memory of him had faded. she looked at him as if she'd never seen him before and she wondered how the child had grown to be this man.
her lips parted but no words came.
not at first.
instead, ysara looked at him. really looked. not with fear. not with shame. just… tenderness. bruised and wary, but tenderness, nonetheless. she had searched his face a thousand times in her memory, and still, nothing compared to standing here, lantern-light soft between them.
“i—well, i wasn't sure you’d want to see me,” she admitted, quietly. though how silly of her to think such. "but clearly mother," the universe, "had other plans for us." a nervous little laugh escaped her, a sound like the tinkling of a bell.
another moment of silence passed and she searched for the right thing to say. did she apologize for her absence all those years? ask him how he was? how his sisters were? did she even have the right to ask him anything at all?
"i never thought i'd actually see you again. any of you. so if i'm honest, i'm sure what to say, high lord." she wanted to taste how it felt on her tongue. calling him the high lord of the dawn court rather than his father, the ruthless ruler who was, in part, responsible for how broken their family was at times. "the title suits you, dear cousin."
having nearly every fae in the summer court was nowhere near ideal, alina finds some comfort in continuing her routine of riding at dawn. she had missed in the capital, as well as in the dusk court, nothing truly prevents her from doing so there but it was not summer. it was not her mounts, nor her favored white mount. the moment they landed in summer, alina had to simply gather hear bearings, account for her family, and her fae, uncover the state of her court as its high lady was absent for nearly ten months. although she has kept her trusted and incompetent staff in charge, a court could not go this long without it's ruler. she finds that nothing is out of sorts much to her relief, save for the shock she offers her fae at her abrupt return. her staff appeared relieved, and she's curious when she catches ysara, the dawn healer that had sought refuge in her court, appearing out of sorts. it was a natural response from her, as it was for summer fae, alina's staff are as stunned to find not six courts but seven courts along with the capital in tow.
she waits a few days to settle in, before alina resumes her sunrise ritual. she knows she's to find ysara there, the healer soon joining her in this activity. initially, she hadn't wanted any company, this was something the high lady did on her own, to clear her mind before going about her day and her duties, only to then overtime grow accustomed to ysara's presence. the young lady is there when alina makes her way, sat atop her white horse, to their usual path of riding, knowing very well the other was waiting for the high lady to appear. "how long do you plan to evade your family?" the question poised in a low murmur.
the sun had barely even kissed the sky yet, but ysara was already there. the mare shifting beneath her, eager too tread on, but all the fae could do was sit and stare into the distance. she couldn't sleep, her thoughts had run wild. she knew she should've been worrisome over the king, the shift to the summer court, the state of prythian as a whole, and yet the only thing to plague her mind was the reunion with her blood. a family she barely even knew now.
it was only when the sound of hooves in the distance drifted through her high tipped ears, had ysara managed to come down from the cloud of her thoughts. a faint smile tugged at her lips, her eyes following the familiar figure of alina. she watched her and the white horse as they trotted toward her.
moments passed before she even found the will to respond to the high lady, though the creases in her forehead and the somber expression in her gaze was all the indication alina needed. “i’m not evading,” she added after the pause, soft and barely certain. . “just… postponing.”
another beat and her eyes finally met the other's.
“a few more mornings won’t kill them.” the smirk that grew matched the faint pep in her tone, but by now alina probably knew the healer better than she let on. "besides, i fear you'd miss me far too much if i were to split my attention elsewhere. my absence would disrupt your natural state of things too much." the teasing tone draped over her words like silk. a pretty little distraction, just enough to pull the veil back over what she didn’t want to name. not yet.
location ; above a tavern in a merchant / city square
setting ; it's late at night, but the streets are still alive and ysara is patching up your character after getting hurt ( how , why , level of severity is completely utp! )
status ; open to all!
a faint stain of red coated her fingertips while the smell of crushed lavender and yarrow drowned out the metallic scent of blood.
“you’ll need to hold still,” she spoke practically, but the faint curve of her lips suggested she was rather enjoying this. her hands were steady and sure as she worked, deftly sewing up the tender area. “unless you like your wounds with a little personality,” she added, one brow lifting. “then by all means, wiggle away.” her gentle touch was covered by thin gloves that she wore at almost all times. too afraid of the skin-on-skin contact.
a beat passed. quiet but not awkward, before she spoke again: “so what happened? let the summer court wine take the wheel? or were you playing hero?"
open starter
location: in the halls of the summer court, a few days after the arrival of everyone in the court
rosalyn had never liked unfamiliar places. not because she feared them—no, fear was too tangible, too grounded for what unsettled her. it was the in-betweenness of it all. the way walls blurred together when she wasn’t paying attention, how corridors stretched too long or bent too sharply when her mind wandered elsewhere. and now, here she was, untethered in the summer court, the salt-heavy air and golden light pressing against her senses like a too-warm embrace.
she had meant to follow the directions she had written out for herself after arriving. had even traced the path in ink over and over again in one of her journals. but now, standing in a hallway that felt like it had shifted when she wasn’t looking, rosa realized she had no idea where she was.
her skirts whispered against the polished floors as she turned in a slow, uncertain circle. no one had given her much notice so far—just another visitor drifting through the grand halls, a pale slip of a thing against the sun-kissed vibrancy of the court. but she could not keep wandering forever.
rosa exhaled, brushing a stray curl from her face, then spotted a figure just ahead. without hesitation, she crossed the space between them, light-footed and unbothered by the quick oddity of her own approach.
“pardon me.” she said, her voice lilting with its usual, airy cadence. “i seem to have misplaced myself. you wouldn’t happen to know where they’ve tucked away the dawn court chambers, would you?”
she tilted her head, gaze flickering over them like she was reading something only she could see. lingering a moment too long“or are you lost as well....or not here at all...do tell me if you arent real now, won’t you? i’d hate to be talking to nothing at all.”
the flow of rosalyn's skirt, the way her curls caught the light as they dangling in front of her eyes - there was a strange comfort in it. the smallest of nodes, to prove to ysara that this was - she was real.
a faint smile tugged at the irony of rosa asking the other if they were real, when ysara was questioning the same herself. too many years had passed, but the familiarity of her voice never faded from memory.
"rosalyn?" her voice came too quiet at first, but the sound of her boots against the stone brought the attention toward her. "i can—" she paused, her gaze shifting between her cousin and the other, before a gloved hand reached forward, and rested on her forearm.
since the shift, ysara had been hesitant to bridge the distance that formed from her own self-exile. it didn't feel real to have her own flesh and blood in the same place as her, but now that they were here she couldn't just act like there wasn't history there. legacy, really. they were family and that meant something.
"let me show you the way." a gentle grip tugged the other toward her, an eagerness she was perhaps using as a way to prove herself, "summer court can be a bit of a maze, i can see why you got turned around." this had been her home for some time now, and while she hadn't spent much time in the exact area, it wasn't completely foreign to her. "we'll take the scenic route, too." a chuckle followed, warmth flowing to her cheeks.
"oh, hush! don't you see me chattin' here?" the musician laughs, drink sloshing in a pointed threat in their direction. "let me clear my pipes and i'll get back to the singing. queue up your requests."
it's just a short break in between her set, a moment to catch-up with the regulars and shop-vendors, make a new friend, meet an old friend who'd been vanished months ago. she liked arrival stories best - hearing how they landed, where they landed. she wanted to know everything, filtering out which bits would make a good story. because purnelle was a storyteller at heart.
with a wide, open gaze, she prompts - "you were saying?"
open for @ofcourtfablesarchive ; the midnight market, the summer court.
with a tug at her bottom lip, ysara sucked in a breath. her eyes followed in the direction of the others, those demanding more from the musician.
"if you need to—" she paused, her focus back on purnelle now, a soft smile to ease any worries. "don't let me keep you from them, you're clearly wanted." though what kind of message would that send? they snap their fingers and purnelle comes running? not a chance, ysara thought.
throwing back another gulp of her drink, the fae spoke again, "i was just venting, that's all. not even venting. more like anxious rambling." she shrugged, tapping her clawed fingers against the glass in a rhythmic pattern. "i don't know, i'm probably overthinking," as she often did, "it's just strange having everyone here." everyone as in her family. here. at the summer court. "it's a bit nerve wracking, not gonna lie. feels as though i'm working alongside a bunch of strangers."
‘ sarah sofie boussnina, cis woman, she/her, 29 / 290 , high fae, daemati ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems YSARA GALATHENEA has been teleported to the summer court, the LADY COUSIN / HEALER from THE DAWN COURT is said to be UNNERVINGLY INTUITIVE and is said to describe themselves with THE SCARS ACROSS THE BACK OF HER MIND, BEING BOTH THE ARCHER AND THE PREY, FRACTURED MORNING LIGHT TANGLED IN HER HAIR, KINDNESS WRAPPED IN IRON and with all of this in mind their REPRESSIVE nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.
GENERAL DETAILS.
FULL NAME: ysara ( ee · sah · rah ) galathenea
NICKNAME(S): ysa
NAME MEANING: her mother used to tell her it meant 'gift', which ysa once believed, until she realized that her mom was just being extra
AGE: 29 / 290
DATE OF BIRTH: august 6th, 1996
PLACE OF BIRTH: dawn court
CURRENT LOCATION: summer court
GENDER: cis woman
PRONOUNS: she/her
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic
LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: lives in a small upper-floor apartment in the summer court capital
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.
FACECLAIM: sarah sofie boussnina
HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: deep brown, loose / natural waves
COMPLEXION: olive / tan
EYE COLOR: brown
TATTOOS: tba but she has many!
CLOTHING STYLE: minimalist silks in muted tones such as cream, bone, shadow blue. functional with open backs and draped sleeves. always always always barefoot indoors. cloaks and hoods for when she wants to vanish. loves her healing belts and moonstone rings
DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tba
SIGNATURE SCENT: rosewater, lavender and crushed herbs
PERSONALITY.
POSITIVE TRAITS: tenderhearted, devoted, intuitive, resourceful
NEGATIVE TRAITS: repressive, stubborn, bitter, callous
LIKES: quiet mornings, the moon she never got to experience growing up, long hot showers, the feeling of someone breathing in the bed beside her
DISLIKES: being touched unexpectedly, noble arrogance, court politics, when people call her “gifted,” the smell of lilac
FEARS: hurting someone she loves. being used. becoming what her parents said she was destined to be. the idea that she enjoys what she's capable of, even for a second
HABITS: rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip when deep in thought
PERSONALITY TYPE: INFJ
MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral good, with chaotic good in her
PRIMARY VICE: guilt...she loves to let it eat away at her
PRIMARY VIRTUE: forgiveness (but for others, never herself lol)
FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.
MOTHER: veyla caelith. she was cold, calculating, adored in public, feared in private. obsessed with legacy and purity of magic. the kind of woman who called her daughter “useful" and the true puppeteer behind ysara’s training
FATHER: orien galathenea. not nearly as cunning and wise as his wife, but a dutiful husband who never showed his love to his daughter because his wife taught him it was a sign of weakness
BEST FRIEND: open! pls i love besties!
EXES: open
SIBLING(S): potentially open! can be discussed!
EXTENDED FAMILY: high lord saint, high priestess persephone, lady rosalyn, lady eriyln, lord eros
PET(S): a three legged fox she rescued years ago. he comes and goes as he pleases, but deep down she knows his home is with her
BACKSTORY.
ysara galathenea was once a prized possession of her parent's nobility. refined, graceful, gifted as her mother would say. but beneath the surface, her parents trained her like a weapon, twisting her daemati gift into something sharp and brutal, using her skills to manipulate others where they saw fit. she grew up with a healers heart and through touch, she truly believed she was doing just that. despite the hate and arrogance that flowed through her parents veins, ysara was gentle and wanted to use her daemati abilities to ease pain among other things. until one night, she was forced by her parents (who she once worshiped tbh) to slip into the mind of someone she had grown to love, and attempted to forever manipulate it to her parent's advantage… but with the lack of the moon to power her abilities, the attempt failed, wounding not just them but herself. when the ordeal became a public scandal, it was labeled a heinous betrayal by the family - a violation of what the court stood for.
that moment changed everything. life in the dawn court was over for her. because of their acts against their own people, veyla and orien were exiled from the dawn court. as for ysara? the guilt ate at her and she vanished on her own accord soon after. for years, the court and others assumed she was dead. but in truth, she was hiding. she was haunted, ashamed that she let her parents influence dictate her actions. she jumped from court to court, before settling for a quiet, healing life in the summer court.
now, decades later, ysara has been living quietly among the summer court and when the shift occurred, she was reunited with the dawn court, who was under a new ruler, her cousin saint. her skills as a healer are what have giving her a second chance to now serve as the dawn court's healer. she says she won’t touch minds anymore. not even her own. but with prythian under attack, who knows how long she can hold out before her gifts may be needed in one way or another.
I don’t know where I’m going. Where I came from is disappearing. I am unwelcome. My beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory.
Warsan Shire, from Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head; “Home”
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2087
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theartofmadeline
stormborns
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