* WOMAN / KING

divinity will stain your fingers and mouth like a pomegranate. it will swallow you whole and spit you out, wine-dark and wanting. the divine will curl its way through your veins and take you over, and it will not leave you quietly. i feel divinity in my bones like aching; like fire. — Penned by Jay.

[giselleendiron]

IKAIA:

“Don’t have any right to summon me anymore, Giselle.” The piece of paper hadn’t come as any surprise, but it hadn’t made it feel any less heavy. Ikaia had taken his sweet time in ascending the worn stairs of the tavern, crumpling the note between his fingers and draining his mug to the dregs. It had been four years since he’d up and left Court. In fae time, that was nothing more than a blink. Yet those years had felt the longest in his immortal life – so much had changed since the Voss bitch had snatched everything important to him away. With his wings gone, he’d felt like nothing. Crippled, broken. Even if Giselle had healed him and nursed him, she’d taken the one thing he had left. His position, his fleet. Snatched it from his fingers like Kaya Voss had snatched the wings from his shoulder blades. 

In some ways, she’d taken Sophia, too. One after another, he’d been left with a shell of his former self, until he’d truly taken his life into his own hands. If Giselle and her Court couldn’t see the warrior he was capable of being without his wings, they could all go fuck themselves.

Kai had completely severed himself from the fae. Why the Pirate Lords had thought it best to ally with them? He didn’t have a clue, but he almost hated the idea more than siding with the vampires. 

“Answers? Came to the wrong fucking place for that.” Her tone was exactly what he’d expected. Calm, collected; not looking for the fight that Ikaia was beginning to realize he wanted.  His blood burned hot in his veins, the remaining fragments of his wings tensing as his shoulders did. He was angry – his lips pulled back in a wolfish, sarcastic smile as his words seemed to drip with venom that hissed with every syllable. “Tell your men to get their noses out of my ass and to do something better with their lives. Don’t answer to you, or them, or any of you fae fucks anymore.”

He’s petulant, sour, and terribly abrasive. His words are vitriolic in nature, but she’s come to expect that of him. She offers him no initial reaction when the poison from his lips sear into regal flesh as she supposes is his hope. Ikaia likes to fight and Giselle knows this. No other faerie is quite as comfortable with confrontation as Ikaia, which is likely why her vessels remained unchallenged on the water for so long. He knows conflict a little too well as he is more likely to spear a man than to speak with him. Yes, It would please him to earn her anger, to make her hate him as much as she knows he hates her. He wants nothing more than to to be her enemy in this moment and in the ones that will follow after. He hopes to see a Queen come undone before him; to watch imperial gold start to rust. There is no battle for to him to fight tonight because Giselle refuses to be his opponent. “What summons have I ordered, Ikaia?” Her voice is flat with subtle notes of exhaustion sprinkled in here and there from having to listen to his disrespect. “You are not here because I have commanded it. You would have been well within your right to disregard my missive. I have not forced you to come up here.”

She hardly recognizes the man that now stands before her. It’s not his missing wing that renders him unrecognizable, but instead his attitude towards her and their people. He fancies himself a pirate now; a rogue on the high seas who answers to no one except for himself. He wants very much to convince both Giselle that he is no longer a faerie and that she is no longer his Queen, but she knows the truth. Perhaps he once thought that fleeing the High Court with one her ships would be enough to wash the memory of his people from his mind, but it clearly wasn’t. No, it takes much more than running away to forget the truth. Whether he cares to admit it or not, Ikaia is a faerie. This... immature defiance of his is not unlike that of a moody child who wishes to be something he is not. Once he’s ready to be the man he so desperately wants the world to believe that he already is, then perhaps he may know some semblance of peace.

“I disagree. I think that this is the perfect place for answers.” His eyes are burning coals; pure black and empty. He’s both physically and emotionally distant, and she supposes that it is his pride which forbids him from from being truly present in this moment. “I will do no such thing. You may be an enemy of my crown, but you are still a faerie. I am to be notified of any and all of your movements.” She shifts now in her wooden chair; the first bit of movement from the Queen since she first sat down a few moments ago. Her eyes never leave his as though they’re searching for something in the never-ending darkness. Part of her hopes to find even a fragment of the man she once believed she cared for. “Who are you trying to convince, Ikaia? Me or you? You want me to believe that you are no longer a faerie and I’ve been more than kind by letting you play pretend with your unwashed humans, but when does it end? When will you stop lying to yourself? Have you not grown weary of running from the truth?”

[greelin]

[steps on my own emotions and grinds them into the dirt with my heel] anyways

[giselleendiron]

@derrieuxmelanie​ !!

She’s frighteningly poised; an immaculate marble statue erected in the center of a balcony elevated high above treacherous waters. This...uncomfortable stillness is but a side effect of queenship, a consequence of having a higher status. It’s an inescapable trait that always manages to trickle its way down the generations of the Endiron family tree until it rests upon the steady shoulders of the newest monarch. Giselle remembers witnessing her father in this very same petrified state, and it was only when either she or her mother slipped their hands into the rough palms of his own that he would be pulled away from whatever endless stream of thoughts that managed to carry him away from reality. They’re so much alike, Giselle and her father. In these years without him, she’s only come to see their similarities even more. He is perhaps the only other living creature in this world who understands how she’s feeling now. She wishes he was here to guide her, to help her with Kael and to serve on her council as someone she could trust. Alas, he belongs to the world now; he and her mother both do. There’s not a living soul that knows where the two of them have taken off to and she’s quite certain that they intended for it to be that way.

The creek of gold-plated doors and the heavy footfall of her personal guard is enough for the Queen’s attention to be turned away from the sound of crashing cerulean waves (it doesn’t take as much for her to come back to reality like her father). She turns to look at him, rich brown waves cascading down the expanse of her back as a ghost of a smile gently tugs at the corners of bare lips. Her appointment has arrived and a simple waving of her hand is enough to grant the guard permission to allow entry to the woman. Melanie is, of course, afforded all of the pageantry of being properly announced upon her entry and it is with an honest smile that Giselle greets her. “My lady,” She’s formal in all things, even when behind closed doors Giselle is still a helpless victim of etiquette. “thank you for coming. Please, join me out on the balcony”.

Her silk train webbed with twinkling gold flakes slinks elegantly across glossy marble floors as Giselle leads Melanie out into sitting area on the sun-soaked balcony. Of all the leaders of the Seasonal Courts, it is Melanie who has proven herself to be the most loyal to Giselle’s cause; a fact that the High Queen takes great comfort in. Giselle’s a firm believer in rewarding loyalty, and that is exactly what she intends to do today. “I’ve had a pitcher of wine set out here for the two of us but I’m afraid that it’s turned rather warm now” She adds with a slight chuckle following after as sinks into the cushioned seat at the small table and directs Melanie to do the same.

[giselleendiron]

CASSIUS‌:

There has never been a moment in Cassius life where he has felt as much of a fool as he does now. Standing in front of the High Queen, weeping uncontrollably in a panic that he cannot seem to fathom. The threads that had been stitched together keeping everything he held inside had been cut loose and they were unravelling with secrets and emotions that he dare not show anyone. His life was not one that had been filled with such things. Emotions were a weakness and unfortunately for Cassius he had far too many. The fae had years of discipline pulled over him like an armor of gold that could never be penetrated. He learned to live with the weight of it all on his shoulders, never questioning his decisions to tuck everything away for even a moment. Yet now that armor seemed to be the thing that was causing the most grief. As an immortal with immeasurable strength it never burdened him, but that crushing sensation that pressed against his chest was far too heavy for any mortal man to try and uphold.

Though there was something about her grace that never seemed to falter. Sure, she stood in front of him fragile and delicate… So human like in a way he had never seen. Giselle too had been stripped of her immortality, her wings and her affinity, but she still held that unwavering presence to her even in his moment of strife. That same quality that reached far beyond the High Court into the Seasonal ones to gain support from fae even in the most unexpected of places. Cassius was grateful for this, grateful for her and everything that she was. He had fallen in love with her from the moment he saw her as a young fae and she stood here with him now with nothing but the support that he needed. That of course only made him feel that much more of a fool because he could not seem to shake the worries that dug into his mind and clutched his heart. He had come undone nonetheless and he felt unworthy of the High Queen’s attempt to comfort him in a time like this. If this had happened to the two of them, it surely happened to everyone else. As a Queen it would be her duty to be there for her people, though she was here with him consoling him with kind and soft words that he could barely understand through his distressed cries.

Cassius was so wrapped up in his head when she pressed her hand against his chest, traveling up his torso until it was hooked behind his neck. He was there physically, but emotionally he cowered in the darkest crevasses of his mind. A timid boy hiding his face from the world that all felt like it was too much for him. He did not even realize that Giselle was pulling him closer to him as he opened his mouth to spill more jumbled thoughts out. In what seemed like a lifetime, Giselle pressed her soft lips against his taking the words right from his mouth into hers. His eyes grew wide for a moment as the realization fully set in to what she had done. 

Giselle Endiron, the High Queen of the High Court, stood there kissing Cassius. Sure he was her Consort, but he had always been under the impression that it was simply a political move to help protect her from unwanted pursuits. She had never given any indication to him that it was more than just that. For a moment though, he lets his woes fall to the back of his mind with his feelings for her clawing their way to the front so that he may kiss her the way that he always wanted to. Thoughts no longer run rampant in his mind for a few blissful seconds as he sinks further into her kiss, bringing his hands to caress her face hoping that his tear soaked cheeks do not brush against hers. But only for a moment before he pulled away.

He looked down at her now, eyes swirling with confusion and lust (a deadly combination if he had ever heard of one), and he blinked a few times wondering if that had really just happened or if it was all apart of some dream. He had waited so long for them to have this moment. He had it all planned out, where it would happen, what he would say to her before hand, every minuscule detail had been meticulously thought over down to the second. And this, this, was not how he ever had imagined it. “Wait,” his brows stitched together with a clear dumbfounded expression across his features. “Are you kissing me because you like me or are you using it as a means to shut me up?” he asked, panic still very obviously running rampant in his mind. “Because if it is to shut me up I am sure there are better methods. You could have just hit me over the head with the book on your nightstand or anything, anything else. I am only asking because if that is the reason behind it, then I want no part of it,” he let his head hang for a moment. 

“I do not believe I will be able to handle it if you do not like me in the way that I like you,” he admitted to her for the first time. “So I ask for the sake of myself, as I am already imploding if you kissed me using logic or emotions.” The pace in his voice was still quick and he could still feel his heart beating so hard against his chest. But it was clear that he had calmed down just by feeling her lips against his. From tasting sweeter than he ever could have imagined. His heart had been working hard on pumping blood throughout his entire body, and now it all seemed to settle against his cheeks and in his slightly swollen lips that tingle. “I just do not want to get caught up in something if you have no means on following through.”

She shakes now, subtle, but dare a golden goddess quiver in the presence of another? Warmth is evident in the ghostly touches of her palm against the surface of his chest, gliding smoothly and effortlessly across ebony flesh. She’s calmed him with her lips, a temporary victory that she’s equally as pleased as she is ashamed. She’s violated his space and she knows it. Giselle’s not one to be moved by impulse, and yet it is impulse that has driven her to be close with him in this way. Treacherous and frightening are the waters whenever reason is cast aside, and so she may as well be drowning at the very moment he pulls his lips away from hers. She feels colder now, less alive than she did only seconds ago when the desire to bring them both some semblance of peace was all that concerned her. She’s colder, yes, but the dizzying effect of his lips pressed atop her own hardly wears off in the few seconds that they are apart. There’s a sparkle of magic dancing along parted lips, and she only wishes to savor this taste and store it within her memory. Giselle’s not likely to forget this taste, for she’s spent decades denying herself this privilege.

Then, it all slowly fades to black again. What felt like fire has now burned down to puny embers as her senses all come rushing back to her at once. Embarrassment spreads rapidly across bare cheeks in various shades of red as she realizes the gravity of her actions. He’s rightfully confused and perhaps a bit disturbed by this impulse. She never wants to look like this. She’s always held fast to the cards that she’s been dealt, never laying them all out on the table for fear of losing it all. Has she pushed him away because of this? Has she lost one of the few people willing to stand beside her in all things? Light beads of sweat populate the temples of her head as she internally begins to worry for the state of their relationship. It’s only when he questions her motives that her heart stops battering against her chest. Are you kissing me because you like me or are you using it as a means to shut me up? Partly. Perhaps if Cassius had not come to her door this morning in a state of panic, then Giselle wouldn’t have allowed such intimacy to thrive. She cannot deny that his panic was the driving force in kissing him in this moment, but it is not the only force. She’s cultivated a rare kind of live for him, and it has proven to be the most difficult flower to tend. The kiss was true, as it was born from pure intentions and even purer love.

She turns from him, the translucent train of her ice-white night dress sliding across frosted cobblestone as she takes a moment to answer him. Seemingly unafraid of anything, she stands completely frozen in her place at his next few words as though if she were a statue. I do not believe I will be able to handle it if you do not like me in the way that I like you. Giselle starts to feel it all over again; that unexplainable feeling of his lips pressed against hers. His declaration warms her, melting away all of the worries and anxiety in just a few simple words. He’s never been this raw nor has he ever spoken this plainly towards her. How long has he felt this way about her? Has he been thinking of her for as long as she has been thinking of him? Suddenly she feels foolish for not acting on her feelings for Cassius sooner. She’s been a fool keeping herself from being in his arms. Giselle turns to face him again, cool green eyes forming tears in her ducts as she closes the distance between the two of them once more.

“Yes, I wanted to calm you. Perhaps a book would have sufficed, but I could never hurt you, Cassius.” She starts, her hands nestling themselves back into his own before bringing the back of one of his hands up to her lips to place a kiss on it. “Cassius, I look at you and all I can see is how we used before tragedy befell us all. I look at you and I remember what it feels like to be something other than an ornament on a throne. It is in your eyes that I’m reminded of that boy whose soft smile could light up my entire world whenever we read together.” She swallows the rest of her words, damning them all to an eternal silence lest she wish to make a fool of herself in this moment. She’s spoken to him with such candor before. It’s all rather unrehearsed, though perhaps that is what makes it all the more authentic. “I chose you to be my Prince Consort, not because you are convenient, but because I had hoped that perhaps one day you might look at me and see all the things that I see when I look at you.” She can’t bring herself to look into his eyes now. Now, she’s human in more ways than one and it still frightens her. “I think of you so much that I sometimes wonder if I’ll go insane from it. You are afraid to fall into something uncertain? Well so am I. I was afraid to let myself feel something for you, but now that I do, I’m afraid that you might not love a weak queen, Cassius.”

[giselleendiron]

CASSIUS:

Upon seeing the queen, his breath continued to stagger. Even in his distress and panic she is so ravishing and radiant. How he had been so lucky for her to pluck him from the thousands that wanted to court her to be her consort. His eyes fall upon her green ones, much like the earth he had come to love. He remembers as a child how he used to dream about those eyes, how they were they only bit of color that flashed in his dreams or when he spent endless days in the very white and barren Winter Court. If it were not for everything else he had come to know about Giselle over the years, the things he had learned to love, it would always be her eyes that he could recall. The first time he saw them he was in for it. And just for a moment, seeing them here when all he seemed to be seeing was the yellow hues of panic around him, he felt as if that was washed away. But only for a moment before he noticed that her irradiant wings were not softly fluttering behind her. Then the air had been pulled from his chest once more. The realization that he was not a fae was enough to send him into a panic, but the High Queen— his Queen, not having hers, that was enough to keep him there.

Cassius shook his head at her question, though he tried again to draw a breath in and only came out gasping at the other end. What was it like for a fae with an affinity to not have enough air to breathe? Surely it was more tortuous than losing another affinity, water and fire and earth could all do without. But air was the very thing that had kept everyone alive for their long immortal years. Without air, how could they live? How could they continue on? It was cruel to have it taken away from him. With each passing moment he could feel his chest tighten, and if Giselle had not held his hands and interlocked her fingers with his, they would have found their way to his chest, clawing at it until they could open him up so that he could get any bit of air that he needed. His head grew light from wheezing for air as she took him into her room. Even the sound of the heavy wooden door now frightened him, ringing out a noise that seemed to echo in his mind louder than any thoughts he had.

Never in his life had Cassius experienced any of this before. Or if he had, he would not have had such a visceral reaction to it all. He was a very stoic man, emotions like these were far too… Human for him to show. The shortness of breath, how he trembled apprehensively, the way his hands felt as if they were to slip from Giselle’s careful grip if he moved too quickly. The fear of impending doom that a fate had been chosen for him— a life that he could not control. “I-I-I,” his voice did not even sound like anything he had recognized. Ragged breaths left his mouth just as quickly as they entered, far too much for him to get many words out. “I can’t b-breathe,” he shook his head again now pulling one of his hands from her grip to his chest, clenching his shirt tight as if it had been the reasoning for all of his panic, trying to pull it away from his body so that he could at least then blame something.

Was it only due to his discipline as a soldier and a fae that he had been able to conceal his feelings? Was he truly nothing without it those at hand? He couldn’t even manage to conjure up anything worth to say. How he usually mulled over his thoughts, let them stew into his head before he picked out the perfect words to say. Now if he sat on them any longer he just knew that he would implode from the chaos. Cassius only wanted to unravel in her presence, as she stood there her words so warm in his ears. Even though he no longer had the air or his wings to lift him up and his feet were placed firmly on the floor below him, he still hadn’t felt like he was truly grounded. The only thing that brought him back were her eyes, strong and resilient as the earth. “I… Don’t have anything,” he let his head hang feeling tears start to brim along his eyelids. He looked back up at her through blurry tears and vision that had seemed to blear as the panic continued to manifest within him. “I… I woke up, and-and-and it was gone. E-everything was just g-gone.” His words slipped from his mouth as if they were secrets he had been holding up inside for hundreds of years. And now that the floodgates were open there was no indication that they were going to stop.

T-the air, I… I can’t,” he closed his eyes hard, finally letting the tears spill over and roll down his cheeks. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up as if this had all just been some sort of nightmare for him. But as he opened them again, the reality seemed to sink in deeper. That he was still here and Giselle stood in front of him without wings of her own as well. He cried out again before he allowed himself to collapse into her, gently sobbing in the nape of her neck as his arms wrapped around her and he clung onto her to make sure that she was still real standing there with him. It was so odd for him to behave like this, his parents had always taught him better. He thought that he knew better. But the boy was fraying and there wasn’t anything that he seemed to think to do about it. The only thing he was sure of was that she was here with him. He pulled away again, not bothering to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I-I am so sorry. I just.. I just,” he sort of groaned in frustration as he couldn’t form the words into a coherent sentence. It was one thing to always hold everything on the tip of his tongue and never say it, but it was another to not have the ability to say anything at all. “Giselle,” he whimpered softly as he drew in more unsteady breaths. “W-what’s happening? I-I just went to bed and-and now we don’t have our wings or-or-or our powers. I,” he shook his head in disbelief still. “I should have been w-with you. I could have s-stopped this from,” he trailed off still not sure what exactly this was or even if he had been with her that he could manage to have the power to stop it at all.

Giselle’s never been particularly fond of weakness, never so much drawn in by the intricacies of vulnerability. There is beauty in frailty, and up until now she’s never even noticed it. This beauty, this forbidden unknown rests within the dark pools of his eyes as well as in the subtle quivering of his bottom lip. This, Giselle believes, is what it must look and feel like to watch a sacred monument crumble to the dust. She’s not easily spellbound, in fact she’s normally rather unimpressed by nearly everything around her. Immensely difficult to impress, it takes much more than a beautiful image to send the High Queen into a state of perpetual awe, and yet Cassius has done just that. He unfolds before her, layer by layer he becomes something that’s even easier for her to love. She’s afraid for him now, but her fear is eclipsed by how honest he is in this moment. Giselle only wishes to bring him comfort—to calm the panic with the soft grazing of her fingers as they interlock with his own. She’s never held his hands in hers for this long, and each second that they remain connected feels more like an intrusion than the last. She’ll only hold onto him until he breathes again. She needs him to breathe again.

She stands here with him as each and every one of his attempts to catch his breath all end failure. Giselle’s never been without air in her body, but she’s certain that such a feeling must be unbearable. His hands shake furiously in her grasp as she does her best to keep them still and provide Cassius with as much stability as she is able. The few words that he manages to offer her are mere whispers that have been sent through the heavy wheezing of the few breaths that can actually take. She decides that it is pointless to try and get him to speak to her. No, now she must focus all of her energy towards calming him so that his breathing might stabilize. As he tears his hand away from her grasp to clutch and tug at the material of his nightshirt, Giselle slowly pulls him closer to her before retracting her other hand and allowing her soft palm to cup his tear-stained cheek. The slight movements of her thumb wipes away the warm tears that trickle down from his eyes at the frustration he’s experiencing. They are both in a rare form, Giselle thinks. The two of them have never been quite this...human. “Do not try to speak, Cassius. Please, just keep your eyes on me,” she reassures him in a low and comforting voice. “it is only us in this moment.”

It all happens so fast, and Giselle’s perfectly silent through it all. Light tears give way to heavy sobs, and within seconds, Cassius comes crashing down onto her. She’s taken aback by it at first, not because the act displeases her, but because she never expected him to take that great of a liberty. She’s witnessing the side of Cassius that he prefers to keep hidden away from public view. This is a side of himself that has neither use nor interest in protocol. Loss piles up in innumerable stacks this morning, leaving them both so uncomfortably undone. He makes himself so easy to hold with his head resting in her neck with his chest rising and falling atop her own. She can’t deny that it feels so natural with him in her arms; like a safe haven unlike any either of them have ever known. To wrap her arms around Cassius provides them both a kind of comfort and security that the Queen rarely enjoys (or even allows herself to enjoy). Hadn’t he always done the same for her? His very position at her side is a symbol of their security on the throne. It is Cassius who defends her in all things and follows in her stride. He is the only constant in a life that meets no end, and so she will be his constant for him now and whenever he needs her to be.

She wants to tell him to be calm now and to cast his burdens onto her just as she had done so many times to him.There a million things that Giselle wants to say to him in this moment, but she knows that words will hardly do the trick. His grip around her keeps her grounded and it feels as though he’s become a part of her until he eventually pulls away and that feeling of security starts to fade away into a memory. There he goes again, apologizing for feeling something. Surely he must know that his apologies are never needed, especially when it is only the two of them like this. In between ragged breaths, he blames himself for the nightmare that they both must endure, but her eyes only reassure him that he could never have prevented this. He’s only worsening his condition by trying to apologize and so Giselle does what she’s been waiting to do with him for so long. It’s impulsive and entirely unlike her, but she goes for it anyway with the expectation that she might regret doing it later. It starts slowly with her hand making its way up his chest and then behind his head to rest on the back of his neck. He’s somewhat taller than she is, but she makes up for it by gently guiding his head down to her with height with his face only a mere inch away from her own. Everything within her is screaming to leave things as they are, but it all goes silent once her lips meet his. Her lips are soft and slow atop his, only deepening once they’ve both established a rhythm. She’s wanted this for so long, though a part of her fears that this brief stroll through the elysian fields will end with him pushing her away and cementing her worst fear.

[catesstrophe-deactivated2021030]

She looked like a religious icon, like somebody you’d sacrifice yourself for.

Bob Dylan, on Joan Baez (via catesstrophe)

[iuc]

Visit Original Link

Beyoncé & JAY-Z – APESHIT (EverythingIsLove)

[giselleendiron]

@portraitcfdcrian !!

There’s an unmistakable elegance in the rapid flutter of translucent wings (a level of perfection that certainly can’t be bought and isn’t easily imitated). She’s immaculate in appearance as all queens are and must always be when every breath drawn from royal lungs is heavily monitored. The sapphire encrusted circlet that encompasses her forehead has a rather subtle yet still noticeable sheen; serving as a constant reminder of the authority that she carries within these lands. Giselle’s a creature born of warm sea breeze and iridescent oyster pearls, but she knows that there is beauty to be found in the death of a season. Of all the Faerie courts, it is the Autumn court that knows a much more beautiful and delicate side of death. The ending of life is never more alluring than in the form of crimson and gold leaves. Perhaps this is why she enjoys this court so much, for she is of the few who can recognize the beauty in the end of a season.

Giselle’s arrival is provided the same respect and fanfare that she’s owed as Queen (yet another not so gentle reminder of the position she carries). She stands before the welcoming Autumn Fae as a statuesque monarch in great repute and high esteem; as regality personified. She’s a pillar of strength, an ingot of Endiron gold as she stands among them with confidence spreading across lightly shaded lips. It’s through the bustling crowd at court that cool green eyes make out the sharp features of the dignified Lord. Glittering wings carry the ever-sacrosanct Queen in the direction of the proud Lord until she stands before him in all of the pomp and circumstance that comes with her title. Flawless speech is composed in her head all within the time of a simple breath. “Lord de Clare,” Giselle starts, his name passing through angelic lips as she addresses him with a warm smile. “I must offer you my apologies for neglecting to inform you of my intentions to make the journey to your court. I was hoping that you and I might speak privately with one another should time permit.”

[rangeelas]

literally me and my friends 

[chiaracappelletti]

@derrieuxmelanie @giselleendiron

[giselleendiron]

@laurentvbrodaire​ !!

The dining room before her glistens with its excess of polished marble and slivers of ornate gold that adorn each and every wall. Glowing silver trays of fresh fruits and decadent desserts are placed down among an array of other delectable dishes that rest on the grand table beside her; Giselle has spared no expense for Laurent’s visit to her court. He’s accustomed to such pomp, she’s sure. Crystal chandeliers and overflowing silver platters are all that this man knows, but she decides that it is necessary to present him with the very best that the High Court has to offer anyway. His presence here on the Apregnea Enclave, while painfully annoying, is to be expected given the abrupt removal of his adopted daughter from the High Court (a decision born entirely out of her distaste for the girl, and one that Laurent had no knowledge of). Giselle’s caught wind that Laurent is simply itching to know how she came to make such a hasty decision without his consent. If it is answers that the Spring lord seeks, then Giselle will happily satisfy his curiosity, but she will never apologize for her actions. Sophia was placed in the High Court to be of service to her Queen, and Giselle can do whatever she pleases with her servants.

She rests comfortably in her cushioned seat at the head of the elaborate table. It’s a subtle display of her power, as sitting at the head of a table implies a certain level of importance. In addition to offering him an explanation (which she didn’t truly think that he deserved), She’d also like to remind him of the true authority in this court and how things are handled here. So often does he come strolling through the gilded halls of her court without any real purpose but always with a sickeningly sweet word dangling from his lips for any doe-eyed high fae that has the misfortune of crossing his path. If it is his desire to lie with every living fae (besides herself of course) then let him. Giselle cares so little for the sexual adventures of her people anyway, but she will always have order in her domain.

A slight tilt of her head directs sharp features towards the grand double doors as they gently open in preparation for the Laurent’s announcement of arrival. Rising from her seat at the table, Giselle’s pale green eyes fall softly on the Spring Fae as her emerges like the multicolored flowers of his homeland. “Lord Brodaire.” She addresses him, her arm stretched forward so that he might place a kiss on the diamond ring. “Thank you for joining me for lunch this afternoon on such short notice. It has been quite some time since the two of us have spoken.” She’s warm for now, and she’ll remain that way so long as he hasn’t brought his hubris to lunch with him as she unfortunately forgot to prepare a place for it at the table.

[giselleendiron]

CASSIUS:

@giselleendiron // chaos.

Something felt different when he woke up– the air seemed a little thinner as he drew his first breaths in the morning. The air in the Winter Court had always been a little on the thin side considering it was winter at all times, but this… This was something else entirely. His heart felt like it was racing a little faster now too. With his affinity for air, breathing never seemed to be an issue for him. Drawing in breaths from air as he commanded it always settled his heart, putting it at ease from the anxieties that plagued his mind. Cassius’ mind was a dangerous place to be, for it was there that he waged a war between his thoughts and his actions and remained ever so stoic with his emotions. At least when he could control his breaths he could have some semblance of control over the tumultuous thoughts in his head.

But for whatever reason, this morning he couldn’t. As he lay in his chambers, there was no indication that he could even control anything. What had happened in the night so that he could no longer bend air to his will? Remembering that he had been traveling with Giselle making their rounds to the courts, he knew that he needed to go and see her and tell her what he had discovered. He exited his chambers as quickly as he could, jumping up out of habit to begin to fly since it was a faster method only to immediately stumble back onto the ground. The hit to the ground had been a lot harder than most and he could feel his knees sort of burn as if they had been scraped. Though it wasn’t unusual for a fae to bleed, it surely took a lot more than just falling onto the ground to do it. As he lay on the hard stone floor, he reached his hand back to try to feel his wings, only to find there was nothing there. No control over the air and no wings meant that he wasn’t a fae anymore– but what was he, and why was he not a fae any longer. The realization of it all only made his already jumpy heart beat faster and his breaths become shallower. Now he had to find Giselle.

Cassius did his best running through the halls, stumbling over his feet every few yards considering he wasn’t used to actually going anywhere quickly with his feet. He made it to her door in time though, desperately pounding on the door to make her come out. Through winded breaths he called out to her, “Giselle! Giselle it’s me,” anyone could hear the panic in his voice. He felt as if his lungs were an animal in there clawing its way out as he gasped for air. “Please open up,” he continued his knocking waiting for her to come to the door. Never in his life did he feel this sort of panic and now it wasn’t creeping up on him it was just full on gripping his heart tightly. “I need you right now,” he demanded. This was no way to address the queen, but surely it was a way to address his best friend.

She emerges from heavy wool blankets fresh faced and sprightly; even in the brutality of winter, she is no less a goddess. Her color has only slightly faded, leaving her naturally light bronze skin a bit milkier in tone than usual, but it is to be expected given the scarcity of sunlight in the Winter Court. Giselle’s chambers, while exceedingly opulent in both design and decor, are still somewhat smaller than the sprawling suites that she’s always known in the High Palace. Lithe fingertips gently draw open the white, gossamer-thin curtains of her canopy, and like a butterfly, she steps out of her chrysalis and onto ice cold stone floors. She feels much lighter than normal and there’s an unordinary feeling of absence gnawing at her insides as she takes relaxed steps over towards the vanity by the window. Eyes of a particularly striking shade of light green open wider as she slowly approaches the solid gold plated mirror, her breath beginning to quicken at the realization. Her jaw drops in horror of what she’s seeing, and with each blink she hopes to find that her eyes are simply playing tricks on her. Oh, something is playing tricks on her, but it isn’t her eyes.

They’re gone—both of her wings are gone. Her skin turns even whiter as she furiously attempts to reach behind herself to find a single wound or gash where they might have been cut off in her sleep. To her surprise, there’s not a single drop of blood on her back where her wings once rested. The skin on her back is just as supple and scar free as the rest of her body, but it doesn’t reassure her. No, feeling nothing but unblemished flesh only scares her more. If her wings are gone, then what of her abilities? An outstretched hand attempts to manipulate a stone from the walls around her and yet her hand commands no power and the material remains unmoved. She’s frozen in her stance now, a look of pure disbelief washing over her features. Giselle has never felt this...powerless in her entire life.

Who could be capable of performing an act as cruel as removing the wings of the High Queen? The lack of blood or wounds leads Giselle to believe that this is not the work of a peasant gone rogue. There’s intricate magic involved in this, perhaps a misused glamour of sorts. Whatever this is, she’s frightened of it and for the first time in what must feel like eons, the fear is plainly written across her face. She almost crumbles, but like the Earth, she is nothing if not resilient. Slowly but surely, her nerves begin to steady and she’s ever thankful for the amount of mental training she’s put herself through in order to prepare for moments like these. Her mind moves a mile a minute, gathering up all the pieces of a scattered plan that might fix this. Just as quickly as her mind wanders into far off territory, she instantly returns to reality at the sound of frantic pounding against her door and the hollering of her name. Immediately, Giselle recognizes who the voice belongs to. Something has happened to Cassius.

Moving her from her place the vanity, Giselle strides confidently towards the door. Cool green eyes soften at the sight of her Consort the moment she opens the door, though the moment does not last long at all once she scans his body. Cassius’s winter-weathered wings are also absent from his back, and finally Giselle concludes that this is not a personal attack on herself. The panic is evident both in his voice and the whiny breaths he manages to take in between his words. “Cassius, can you breathe? Please speak to me.” She’s never actually seen him in such a distressed state, for Giselle has always known Cassius to be a man born of iron. Cassius is, in her mind, a gust of air that is unfazed by most things. Seeing him like this only reminds her that even the strongest are not unbreakable. He doesn’t know it, but she’s fallen for him even more after witnessing him come undone like this. She almost fights it, but her hands act without the permission of her mind as they so often do whenever she is in Cassius’ company. Reaching forward to gather his hands into her own, her dainty fingers slip elegantly between his own as she leads him inside of her chambers with the wooden door slamming shut behind him. “Cassius, please.” With his hands resting comfortably in hers, Giselle runs the soft skin of her thumbs over the back of his hands. She only wishes to comfort him in this moment, to bring him down from whatever precipice he’s currently standing before.

[tenzhin]

[giselleendiron]

KAEL:

Finally, he had triggered something in Giselle. Kael could see it from the way she looked at him with a thinly-veiled disgust. His lips curled back, bearing his teeth at her with a malicious glee. “You’ve no right to lecture me about pain, sister.“ He rumbled, daring her to push further than she already had. She wasn’t the one who had lost her mate. She wasn’t the one who lost her crown. She wasn’t the one bound to a court that she no longer had love for. As much as he cherished the fae, the High Court was not his home so much as it was a prison, and she refused to acknowledge the reason as to why that was. And any time he had a sliver of a chance to move on with his life, she threw him back down into this complete hellhole of living, eternally damned to have no lasting connection to anyone or anything. 

“You are supposed to be leading our people. Why is it that I’m the one communicating with the courts, while you stay put in this ivory tower of yours looking down on everyone?” He asked, openly scowling at her now. Kael was far less sympathetic and far too familiar with Giselle’s silver tongue to let her excuses slide. The fact she was trying to play down the severity of the incident was even more outrageous to him than any pretty lie she could have woven. It was reckless for any ruler to think themselves above their own mistakes; that much he knew painfully well. “This incident was the result of your actions. It is just as much your responsibility as it is Gabriel’s, yet you refuse to take ownership of it. What does that say of your queenly character, Your Majesty?“ The Grand Duke asked, looking down on her imperiously, the ghost of his former self. “The intention behind your actions were indeed good, presumably, but the method, sister, is what I speak of.” 

But the moment she tried to lie to him about Sophia, slandering her name in front of him, Kael saw red. It was the wrong thing to say, to him of all people. “Oh please, do you expect me to believe that? Sophia wasn’t the least bit interested in being a queen. She was happy where she was. We were happy.” He snarled, his fingers flexing as the flames in his body surged with a longing to escape yet again. “But that’s the problem, wasn’t it? The idea that I might move on with my life, that I might leave all of this garbage behind- and you. You can’t stand it, can you?” He was done playing nice with his supposed Queen, not when she had pushed him this far. “You’re always punishing my lovers for a crime that isn’t theirs. If you want to banish me so badly then just do it. Stop involving others in these ridiculously petty schemes of yours.” How much did he have to beg until she let him go? How many lives did she have to ruin because of their affiliation with him? “Tell you what, let me sell off your precious prince consort to the merfolk. I hear the queen likes to eat her spouses alive. See how much you like that.”

Anger did very little to dampen her beauty. A master at pretending, a single smile dipped in milk and honey could hide so much. This afternoon, it will conceal her disgust for the man she calls her brother. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him how disappointed in him she is, for she knows that a truth as potent as that will sting far worse than any insult that could slip from her tongue. She doesn’t want to tell him that he’s no longer the person that was raised alongside her all those years ago. The well-trained little boy with dreams of regality now stands before her a man of many harsh words and little sense. He speaks to her, not like a respectful older brother would to his younger sister, but instead like an angry tyrant with nothing but blame to lay at the feet of his Queen. Giselle’s been awfully kind to him throughout this conversation; a luxury she that believed Kael was owed due to their relation. She now knows that not even her kin can be afforded such a privilege. If he insists on speaking to her like an enemy, then she will have no other choice than to treat him like one.

She’s said all she can about this...farce of a wedding. Giselle believes that she’s wiped her hands clean of it all, but blood isn’t easily washed and her palms leave a crimson print on everything she touches. She tries to ignore it, refusing to breathe any life into the notion that she might be responsible for leading their ship into dangerous waters. Yes, she agreed to the match and she also agreed to attend the wedding on the promise that she and her kind would be safe. Yes, she regrets it, but what is done is done. Preparations have already been set in place to cater to the families of the deceased, and any whispers of secret rebellions are being squashed every hour. She lets Kael believe he’s doing more for their kind than she is to boost his already massively inflated ego. It’s hardly even worth her time to argue with him about who has done what. Kael is the Grand Duke of the High Court, it is his duty to act on her behalf.

“It matters very little what Sophia was or wasn’t interested in. She’s a queen now and the matter is settled, Kael. An eternity apart will do both you and Sophia a world of good.” There’s exhaustion in her voice. She’s no longer interested in arguing with him about a matter as trivial as sending Sophia away to the vampires. They will never see eye to eye on this, so Giselle only wishes to end this futile discussion. There are far more important tasks to tend this afternoon, and she’s not looking to spend another moment of her time bickering with Kael. If he wishes to recall every single inappropriate relationship he’s shared with a woman of a lesser position that Giselle has put an end to, then fine. Giselle doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse for sending his last lover away from court to shovel pegasus manure in the spring court, and she surely doesn’t feel sorry for doing away with Sophia. At least the blonde got a kingdom out of the deal.

“That was never the problem and you know it. I want you to be happy, Kael. Do you truly think that I enjoy watching over you like a child? I do it because I cannot trust you.” She’s more frustrated with him now than she was at the beginning of all this. He wishes to paint this over dramatic picture of her as his jailer shackling him to her side, but his chains and this prison are of his own making. “I hold you to a higher standard than those half-bathed wenches you parade around my court because you are my brother and I love you. They are not my responsibility, but you are. If I am doomed to spend an eternity keeping you in line and making sure that you do not embarrass our family any more than you already have then fine.” Giselle finishes. She’s almost ready to turn away from him again, but its his last statement that stops her right in her tracks. Tell you what, let me sell off your precious prince consort to the merfolk.If looks could kill, Kael would certainly be bathing in his own blood right now. “Speak no more of my consort. Cassius is a respectful and wholly loyal friend which is more than I can say for you.”

[giselleendiron]

GABRIEL‌:

( &&. @giselleendiron )

The High Court of Faerie; not a place Gabriel frequented too often, to be honest, aside from his own visits to see Kael in the lazier years of their friendship. Before a woman and a war had wedged a hole between them where a semblance of companionship had once been. Today, though, Gabriel was not visiting the high court for wine or friendship–instead, to make peace with a displeased Queen and place trophies at her feet. The only way to please an animal such as the fae, Gabriel believed, was to appeal to their desires.

For Giselle, that could mean anything, really, so Gabriel had managed to come as prepared as he could bear. Two vampires from his own court flanked him from behind, carrying a black chest with glittering silver accents between them as he made his way through the High Court and towards where he had been informed the Queen would be likely to gather.

“A request to speak with her highness, Giselle Endiron,” Gabriel stated to one of the Fae guards, holding his head high and assessing the faeries around him, attempting to decide if any of them posed an immediate threat. “You may tell her the vampire court has come to call.”

She’s a pretty and ornate thing seated upon the throne of her ancestors. For all of its gilded glory, the throne doesn’t seem to shine quite as bright as the woman who occupies it. The throne, she imagines, was designed to reflect both the inner and outer beauty of the reigning monarch, but all that it reflects is the pretentiousness of old Endiron Kings and Queens who now lie in the dirt. Kings can swaddle themselves in silk and do all of their dealings in diamonds and gold coins, but it is the cold earth below that awaits them in the end. Giselle’s no stranger to greed either, for her very own royal closets are lined with expensive garments all stitched to perfection with diamond necklaces in her drawers to match them. The image of royalty is carefully tended to like a rare and beautiful flower. All it takes is one wilting petal and the entire flower becomes tainted.

She rests comfortably there, one leg crossed over the other as the glittering white fabric of duck egg silk gown gathers at feet. It isn’t until a concerned guard with an urgent message makes himself known to her within the crowd of her court that Giselle’s comfort dissipates. The vampire court has come to call. She’s been expecting to hear from Gabriel for some weeks now, though their correspondence has been rather abysmal. What the vampire king intends to say to her, Giselle does not know. What she does know is that apologies are of little value when blood has already been spilled. The fae are an exceptionally fickle people, and on their trust has been lost, it is quite difficult to earn it again. She’s listened to her people and have heard their grievances about this war. They have all made it very clear that an alliance with the vampires is the exact opposite of what they want. What can Gabriel possibly say to change the mind of a Queen is who is the servant of her people?

A simple nod of her noble head sends the guard fluttering away from her view. She’s decided that court can be placed on a brief hold, for a visitor of Gabriel’s stature must be welcomed by a noble of equal standing. Glowing translucent wings carry the High Queen from her spot on the throne and send her hovering out of the throne room and into the grand hall. Trailing behind her on marble floors is her white silk train followed by two royal guards floating closely behind her. Even though Giselle has a home court advantage, protection is still necessary (Gabriel has not have given her any reason to trust him). Within a few moments the Queen enters the parlor room where Gabriel has been waiting. Before the guards depart to stand outside of the door, the follow through with the proper announcements and introduce both the King And Queen.

“Your grace,” her voice is noticeably apathetic but still rather polite given the circumstances. “I did not expect you to personally make the journey up here.” The Apregnea Enclave, while beautiful, was not exactly an easy location for a creature to travel to without a set of wings to carry them. Whatever the Vampire King has to say to her, it must be important. “Please, have a seat.” An outstretched hand littered with jeweled rings gestures towards the small seating area beside them. “Would you care for some wine? I managed to acquire a few stores of a fine French vintage before the borders were closed.” She offers, sinking into the cushioned seat across from him.

[usercinema]

Sara Sampaio photographed by Mafalda Paiva

[giselleendiron]

( Giselle Endiron Aesthetic + Gold )

A queen—a queen who bowed to no one, a queen who had faced them all down and triumphed. A queen who owned her body, her life, her destiny, and never apologized for it.— Feyre about Mor

[giselleendiron]

@ikaiaraharuh !!

She finds herself entering into territory that she has no business being in. She’s come alone, a foolish choice. There are no friends of her rule here, she knows this. The word and authority of a High Queen means next to nothing to those who look beyond a crown for power. Giselle has taken special care in her appearance tonight, no silk, nor any lace. She’s left all of her rings and rare gemstones in her drawers back at the High Palace and has woven her silk-like locks into a neat braid for convenience. A dark cloak hides her gold-faded wings and she’s made sure to utilize a charm for extra protection. Few people in Candoris have ever laid eyes on the High Queen (a luxury that she’s using to her advantage for tonight). She doesn't know who she might meet on this brief excursion, but she’s made sure to be careful as usual.

Giselle no longer knows what he is capable of, for he is not the man she once knew all those years ago. She held Ikaia in her own arms, nursed his brutally torn wing when the best physicians on her isles had given up hope for him and yet he turned on her. Had she given him any reason to believe that he was worthless? Giselle only ever remembers sitting at his bedside, postponing privy council meetings so that she might spend the evenings tending to his wounds, and wiping the cold sweat from his brow with a cool cloth whenever his pains proved taxing. She’s damns herself for caring for him like that now that he’s abandoned their kind to go and play pretend with rowdy humans. Nothing stings worse than abandonment and betrayal, and Ikaia is guilty of both.

She enters the crowded tavern and inn, hood shading much of her face to the rest of the patrons as she scans the scene. Giselle’s had him watched for quite some time now, having her own private agents carefully tracking him to this location. If Ikaia is as intuitive as she remembers, she’s sure that he was well aware of her entourage following him closely. She’s alone, but her inner thigh is lined with blades tucked into small holsters to use in case of an emergency. Just as as she’s about to make her way up the wooden staircase to the vacant room she’s rented ahead of time to meet him in, Giselle catches a glimpse of him sitting at the bar. As planned, a note from the bartender is ready to be given to Ikaia which will lead him up to the room.

As in all things, Giselle is patient. She waits in the room for him, sitting quietly at the table with a world of thoughts circling in her mind. She’s hardly angry with him, only curious. It is answers that she craves tonight, not an argument. The slow creek of the wooden door draws in her attention and her eyes fall on his rugged features for the first time in what feels like forever. “Come in, Ikaia. I would like to speak with you. I think that we both owe one another a few answers.” Her voice sounds like bells as she speaks, soothing and not the least bit alarming. She has no intentions of angering him, but as always, she’s prepared for it.