battleborn

Jasper - Unseelie - 73 A fox does not feel guilty when it kills; it just eats.

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

a place among the stars

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

camelliafairchild‌:

Everything they did was natural, second nature to them both. Their bodies moved and turned with one another’s, without words to ask for what they needed. It was instinctual, and now, more than ever, Camellia was grateful for that. When there was a great deal of complexity in the world, having a solid place to return to was of great benefit.

His fingers pressed against her skin and his face was buried in her hair, and there was no second-guessing with him. Just as had once been the case with Lark, when she had been able to call upon either one of them and escape into their worlds, in many ways more beautiful than the human world and in some cases, even more so than the feyry realm.

“We may be the only proper fey, but I doubt we are the only living beings, the only ones who have culture and history.” She grabbed his hand with her right one, stroking the space between his thumb and forefinger with her own thumb. A simple movement, but one she’d done for as long as she could remember, even back when they looked much further apart in age than they did now. 

“Maybe that is a good thing. It means that they are safer from what our world - or the human world - both, perhaps?” She pursed her lips in confusion, for a moment. “It means they can thrive, perhaps in ways we cannot. But I believe we can always find something bright.” Camellia was glad that she was able to talk about things like this with Jasper - that her views of finding brightness in the dark were not looked down upon by him in the way of some others in her Court.

After another moment, she found herself looking up at him with more than a bit of awe. “Well, more of the world could do with seeing the world in the way that you do.” She bit her lower lip and let a small blush creep over her cheeks as she buried her face into his chest. After a few moments, she looked up again at him, grinning. 

“Wishing is, inherently natural. It is something that is part of all of us. Stories have been written about it, as have songs. It is something present at our very core.” A pause. “However, if you will forgive me being terribly cliché, my wishes,” most of them, “for friendship and homes have already come true.”

Jasper’s lips twisted in a wry smile, feeling the trace of her fingers against his own. “Maybe we’re safe from theirs, too. Being alive is as ugly as it is beautiful, and I don’t think living on another planet would cure it of that. Wherever life thrives, there will always be resources to fight over, communities to protect. We see it in the animals as readily as in ourselves. But maybe the things they fight over are different. Maybe they thrive in different ways than we do. Maybe they’d admire our virtues just as much as we would theirs. I guess we’ll never know, but that might be a good thing. The most beautiful picture is painted from the imagination, after all, and that canvas in particular is a stunning one.”

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Jasper could feel himself drifting off. It was something about the crisp night air settling on his skin, the warmth of her body against his own. A position they’d taken a thousand times and more, yet it still felt as fresh as the first. On nights like this, when his own dark thoughts haunted his sleep, it was his habit to seek her out, envelop himself in her warm glow, and it worked every damn time.

Their eyes met as she spoke, his lids heavy with sleep, smile lopsided and genuine. He saw something deep within her eyes then, something so bright and yearning that it burned to look at. Looking away quickly, he waited for her to settle again and pressed his cheek to the tip-top of her hairline, her head fitting so easily beneath his own, as if they’d been made to interlock.

“I see it that way because of you,” he said, the words slurring together slightly with sleepiness. “It’s all because of you.”

His tongue was loose now, emboldened by that soft twilight between sleeping and waking life, wedged somewhere between his heart and his head. But even in that twilight, the weight of all persisted: it was more than just a moment, kind words spoken between friends. It was the late nights spent slumped over his desk, scribbling furiously in his notebook. It was arguments with Peridot over how to proceed. It was recruiting dissidents one by one, assessing their skills, employing them as was pertinent.

It was the future. Their future.

He wondered if she thought about it too, the turmoil that was to come, much of it perpetrated in her name. Perhaps it was better than she didn’t.

“That is cliché,” he said with a gravelly chuckle, “but it’s true. For me too. I have everything I need right here.”

It wasn’t a lie—it couldn’t be—but it wasn’t the full truth, either, not in the way it sounded. Something cold and hollow knocked in his chest, this bitter, broken thing, but he closed his eyes and willed it far away. Tonight, she was enough. Tomorrow his plans would resume, but just for tonight, for one single precious moment, she was enough.

[briellemccaffrey-deactivated201]

when: early september, 2018. where: the irish pub. who: open.

For the small price of eleven dollars, Brielle could find herself pretending to pay attention to the sports game on the screen while eating away at mozzarella sticks. She felt, in truth, that time was moving far too quickly, and the end of the year was staring at her with the distant glare of a disappointed mother. There was far too much left that she wanted to accomplish by the year’s end and hope seemed to dwindle more and more with each passing day. No, she reminded herself (as she always had to), don’t think like that.

Perhaps it’d been a mistake to venture out alone. Being surrounded by friends usually helped ease her mind, but today Brielle had decided against it, hoping that some kind of peace would benefit her. Now, though, her appetite had flipped on its head and the rhythm of her heart seemed to pick up. Some days Bri felt as though the longing inside her to be something greater was an ancient, wicked thing - other days she felt nothing at all. That was a hard realisation to swallow, but a figure to her right was a good enough distraction from that.

Glancing up, Bri raised her eyebrows in jest, scrunching her napkin up in one hand. “You eyeing my mozzarella sticks?”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

Jasper had intended to spend the day in the comfort of his own home, but when it came to put it into practice, he found that said comfort was nowhere to be found. His den of solitude had become a place of schemes and hard choices, ticking clocks and trickling sand. That was why he shrugged on his jacket partway through the day, slamming shut his notebook and slipping it back into the secret compartment in his nightstand.

He needed to get a break from it all, somewhere he could be part of something bigger than himself. What better way to do that than to go to a sports bar on game day? It wasn’t that he had any particular love for sports; what he loved was how damn excited humans got about it. He often felt like a sponge, soaking up the energy of the people around him, from the exultant highs to the dispirited lows. He found himself cheering along with them, though he wasn’t familiar with the team, and for a moment his heart was full.

His belly, however, was empty. So engrossed was he in his planning that day that he’d neglected to feed himself, and now, waiting for his burger to arrive, he was pretty sure his stomach would cave in on itself. It didn’t help that his neighbor’s food had arrived not long ago, a plate of fragrant mozzarella sticks that he kept glancing at despite his better judgment.

“You caught me,” he said with a grin as she confronted him. “I’m still waiting for my food to arrive—it’s taking a while. I guess the kitchen is busy.” It seemed pretty obvious, judging by the people jostling all around them. “You a fan of the, uh…” He had to look up at the screen for the team—busted. “The Jaspers?”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

shattered shadows

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

nickclas‌:

“Kinda. Everyone is convinced it’s about the money,” Nick said. He’d been cagey with his personal power for most of his adult life, having been advised early by an unlikely party that it would be better to keep that kind of thing quiet. But Jasper knew about it now–cat, haha, was out of the bag–and something in his tone reminded Nickel of when Dad would quiz him, ‘impromptu’ style, about what he was doing to prove that he was doing something. For a moment, it made him want to smirk and say something flippant, be difficult on purpose, just to piss someone off. It was only an instinct, even if it was a strong one. He only rarely got to share what he heard, and mostly just to Lacha. 

But if he let Jasper know, he’d have to deal with Jasper asking him to do shit. What was the trade off? What was the strategy? Was that worth it?

“It’s just typical shit. The bride’s name is Amanda Montoya; her maid of honor, the woman in the pink crown, her name is April Hernandez. Amanda is this princess and April is Cinderella, she’s Amanda’s less successful step-sister, as far as I can tell. April is waiting for her boyfriend to propose and the consensus is that he’s not gonna, he’s gonna leave her, probably after the wedding. Everyone feels sorry for her, but won’t tell her to her face that her relationship is a disaster. She’s done damage control her whole life, so she knows they’ve got problems, but she thinks she’s hiding ‘em. Amanda’s groom is a douchebag, but his face is some kind of gift to this Earth and he works out a lot. Every time they say his name, they all pretend to swoon. Amanda is the one who is gonna …” 

Nickel made a vague money gesture, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together.

“She is chief operating officer of some big league but nobody knows about it company. Three of the people out there have slept with Justin in the past, and I would put money on a fourth but she’s not copping to it, just hinting. Her hinting feels recent, and she’s super fucking bitter, I think her name is Cassie. Amanda is into you, this is a direct quote, you have the most incredible arms, ever. She still has chills. April is being teased mercilessly about me, I gave her a little bit of a look when we were talking, and now they are reading into it in a serious way. They’re arguing about who the hottest person in the bar is, right now.” 

He frowned. 

“Really, Cass?” Nickel muttered. “Him … ? Yes, thank you, April. Tell me when you want me to stop.” 

Nick sounded like he was going to go on, but didn’t. Jasper couldn’t help but wonder: if it wasn’t about the money, what was it about? Behind the shallow smiles and flippant jokes that often filled their shifts, what was really going on in there? What did Nick want out of all of this? To find that special something, the thing that made someone tick, was to understand them. It was the key to gaining an ally, and right now, Jasper needed allies more than anything.

For a moment he thought Nick might abstain, but then he started talking. Jasper listened with a smile and the occasional laugh, but deep in the pit of his belly, a thrill of electricity rose up, up, up, uncoiling itself from his abdomen and creeping up his throat, over his eyes, sizzling in his brain. All at once ideas flooded his mind, issuing forth from the completeness of the information that Jasper devoured like so many hotcakes.

But it wasn’t enough. Nick’s performance was convincing, certainly—so convincing that Jasper couldn’t help but picture each of the bachelorettes in Nick’s voice, but her own words. Though he wanted so badly to believe it was the truth, Peridot’s long-standing admonishment echoed in his mind: he shouldn’t be so quick to trust. Not without proof, anyway.

So proof he would have, and he knew just how to get it.

Jasper indulged himself for a few moments more, chuckling as the discussion turned to himself. At long last, however, he said “You can stop,” giving his aching cheeks a chance to recover.

“Impressive,” he began, “but you’ve got the home field advantage.” He studied Nick for a moment, wondering how far he was willing to go to secure a place in their fledgling rebellion. Not too far, Jasper suspected, but far enough? He was about to find out.

“There’s a park a few blocks due south of here. They’re having a bonfire on Monday to celebrate Labor Day—why don’t you come? We can bring some drinks, make a night out of it. Get away from the rat race for a few hours.” He flashed a grin, but there was a certain edge to it, an implication. “Will I see you there?”

[ofrosetints]

when:  3rd september 2018, 18:05pm where: central park, by the lake who: open to all 

Although Kaitlin was a girl made for summer, bare-footed adventures and days without end, she had to admit, there was a certain fondness in her heart for fall, in seeing the cyclic nature of the world come to a close. It was a reminder that the world was a living, breathing entity - and that they were all alive within it. Central Park wasn’t beautiful like the Seelie realm, but it held a charm of its own…a certain mystic romance about it. After all, there had to be a reason so many romantic comedies had set themselves here. A magic without being magic? No, she thought sadly, there is only one magic - and it is beyond my touch. 

Wrapping her hands a little tighter around her coffee cup (pumpkin spiced latte, of course), she stared out to the boats, bobbing tourist couples, breathing wistfully. “I know it’s sort of cliche. And very overpriced. But I’ve always wanted to go there.”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

The air was changing. Though the days still sweltered with summer heat, the first hints of a cool autumn breeze ruffled his hair, pinkened his cheeks. It was a time ripe with expectation, change lingering just beyond the horizon. He could feel it in his bones. Maybe that was what drove him to the park that day, to escape the thoughts that coiled round his mind and squeezed, hard. The rebellion couldn’t wait forever, but it could wait for a damn minute, at least.

Settled on his favorite bench overlooking the lake, he closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet air, still thick with the smell of fresh-cut grass. He could stay like that forever, he thought, just taking it all in, from the twittering of birds above to the distant splash of oars on the water.

A voice startled him from his trance. Blinking away the haze from his eyes, he turned to the girl beside him and smiled, only to find that she was looking out over the water. He followed her gaze to the little boats that dotted the surface, watched as a small child pointed at a duck and exclaimed with a wide grin.

“It’s nice. Overpriced, yes, but totally worth it. Out there on the water, you can’t take your worries with you—gotta leave em on the shore. Everyone needs that once in a while.”

He offered his hand for a shake.

“I’m Jasper.”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

a place among the stars

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

camelliafairchild‌:

She melted into him, just as she always did. As was entirely natural for the two of them. Snuggling her body against his chest, she cast a glance up at him. One of her other homes. Because home could be a person, sometimes even more so than it could be a place. They’d both known one another for such an incredibly long time - and despite all that, there were still aspects of herself that she kept from him. Perhaps it was unjust, given how much he gave to her - how much he showed her - but it was the way that she naturally was. Hiding certain facets of herself from practically everybody.

But right now was not the time to focus on that. She briefly pushed against his thigh with her foot, smiling at him as she did so. She could be young around him - even though he was rebelling on her behalf, rebelling so that she would be Queen, she felt as though she didn’t have to show that she’d be a good Queen around him. Not in the way she did around most everyone else. Because he knew - he’d known that she would make a brilliant Queen practically ever since they’d met, back when she’d been a tiny fey, young and looking up to him with admiration -

and that admiration had turned into a wonderful and brilliant friendship, one she was eternally grateful for.

They would be there for one another, forever and perhaps beyond that. Even though her body practically ached to have her second home, her other half, with them too, having Jasper was good. A solid place for when her mind wouldn’t stop racing around.

Her fingers found his hair and she brushed a few strands aside, before placing a careful and chaste kiss against his chin. “Thank you for the invite. I think this is very much just what I needed.” She looked up at the sky, thinking about his question. “I do not see what there would not be. There is so much of our world left unexplored, left to discover new beings, so I believe that other beings existing on other worlds to be perfectly plausible.” A small pause. “I wonder if they would find us kind, or if they would turn away because of what humankind has done to this world.” She bit her lip. “I do not mean to seem a pessimist, not at all, but I cannot help but wonder. I wonder, too, if wishes for them mean the same that they do on this world. Or if a wish for them is something entirely different.”

It was hard not to close his eyes as her warmth soaked into his skin, relaxing into the space they shared. He could fall asleep right there if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Not yet. Their time together seemed rarer with each passing day, their grandiose plans hovering thundercloud-like on the horizon, and he’d be damned if he was going to miss even a minute of it.

He couldn’t help but grin when he felt her lips against his skin, tucking her in close. When she’d settled in, he leaned his head against hers, her silky hair soft against his cheek’s light stubble. As she spoke, he rubbed his cheek back and forth lightly, then turned and buried his nose in her hair, letting her scent flood his senses. Though he’d smelled it countless times, it never became dull or average. Every time was as good as the first.

He could’ve said “I needed it too,” but he didn’t have to. In moments like these, it seemed they understood eachother almost implicitly. The warmth of their bodies together, the press of his fingertips forming crescent moons on her upper arm as he held her close, was answer enough.

“True, it would be hubris to think that we’re the only ones of our kind.” He looked up at the sky again, watched the stars twinkle, wondered if Camellia was looking at the same ones he was. “Just imagine: each of them with their own culture, their customs, music and dance and art—” his words were quick now, tumbling from his lips with the excitement of a child. “Whole worlds waiting to be discovered, and we’ll never know anything about them. But maybe that’s a good thing.”

He frowned momentarily, then batted away the thought. There was no need to go to those dark places here; there would be plenty of time for that later.

“I think they would, and they wouldn’t. We’re so much more than kindness and cruelty. We’re greed and selfishness, but we’re also ambition and compassion and generosity. We’re all the plastic in the ocean and the smog in the sky, but we’re the ones cleaning it up, too. I have to believe they’d see that. Maybe they’d see us the way I do. Not perfect—not by a long shot—but worth fighting for.”

His gaze flitted between glimmers, imagining that far-flung shining something at humanity’s core, chased endlessly, yet always just out of reach. If he squinted hard enough, he could almost see it, a long star shooting across the sky, begging him to believe.

“To be alive is to wish, to dream. Even the flowers wish for sunlight, love it so much that they reach for it. The cat may not have the words to wish for a full belly, but it seeks one all the same.”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

meme development: late night

cosmos: what's one thing you wish you could say to someone you are no longer friends with?

galaxies: what are three things you want to do before you die?

waxing: what is your proudest accomplishment?

waning: what is your biggest regret?

full moon: what type of person do you hope to be?

contemplation: if you could wake up one morning and everything in your life was perfect, what would that look like?

night light: who/what makes you feel safe?

ponder: what do you want to do with your life?

sunset: who is someone you thought would be in your life forever, but you no longer talk to?

midnight: are you a different person late at night than in the early morning?

candle light: are you an indecisive person?

reflection: have you ever changed something you liked about yourself to satisfy someone else?

sweet dreams: are you happy?

nightmare: what are you most afraid of?

constellations: who is someone you could talk to for hours and never stop?

reminder: who is someone you will never forget?

11-11: what's something you want, but feel like you will never have?

shooting star: who is someone you trust to help you make the right decisions?

earth: where do you feel most at home?

soothe: what's one thing that always makes you feel better when you're upset?

slumber: what's one thing that helps you fall asleep when it feels impossible?

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

shattered shadows

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

nickclas‌:

Nick nodded, following Jasper with a murmured “yeah, sure.” The fact that Nickel was one of them now was almost all luck. There had been fire everywhere at the fidchell game. He knew Jasper’s voice from long hours of working with him. He almost always kept himself attuned to something these days, reaching out to another space without really thinking too hard about it. It was stranger not to have his magic open to something; he recognized now that, even as a little kid, even when it scared him, he had never quite let it turn off for more than a day. 

And so he heard what he heard. 

“Every kind of vodka, for sure,” Nickel suggested, tipping his head back to the party. By far, the most requested drink was a vodka cran or a vodka soda. “Did you happen to notice how much liquor you avoided wearing?”

He hadn’t known Jasper particularly well. Nickel tended to chill with the other fey who did as he did, which was nothing productive on purpose. It wasn’t that Jasper had been unsubtle, which Nickel found pretty heartening re: the whole rebellion thing, judging by how deeply unsubtle Peridot was. But no one expected much out of Nickel.

Jasper laughed. “Yeah, I did, hence the cash. I’m sure I’ll get the chance to pay you back before too long.” It was true, despite Nick’s apparent dispassion—they’d had to rely on eachother in the past, and it wouldn’t be the last time. Sometimes Jasper felt like they were the backbone of this whole damn place, or at least the human side.

He’d always gotten the impression that Nick didn’t care about any of it, at least until he joined up with the rebels—a move that shocked Jasper, to be sure. Maybe there was some stalwart idealist behind that smirk of his, or maybe it was because he didn’t care that he was driven to rebel. Lacha’s rule was not very conducive to that sort of thing, after all, if Peridot’s gripes were anything to judge it by.

That made him hard to trust, which was difficult because Jasper wanted to trust him, if only because his ability was so damn useful. Not only had he found out their little scheme with minimal effort on his part, but he’d brought their attention to the existence of such abilities in general. What was next, water whisperers? Earthen earworms? If nothing else, Nick had already given him vigilance, and that was a gift that couldn’t be repaid (not that Jasper would ever tell him that).

They were alone in the storeroom now, as they often were. Few bothered with this place if they could help it. Jasper moved to grab one of the boxes of vodka bottles off the shelf, but hesitated, turning around and leaning against the shelf instead.

“So, you hear anything of interest in there?”

He didn’t really care what they were talking about; he was more interested to know if Nick had been listening, period. Vigilance was a skill that had no equal.

[bellamyblakeedition]

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

a place among the stars

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

camelliafairchild‌:

The evening was quiet. Peaceful. She’d managed to mostly fight away all the thoughts that she couldn’t bear to ruminate on right now - even though, of course, some still snuck through. Former swimming partners, hands laced as they snuck out. So she’d busied herself with trying to figure out how including popping candies in drinks could work. She had hardly any alcohol in her apartment, and so she tried with water, then with some tea - but her mind wasn’t as focused as she would need to be to work on a task like that, and so she moved to sit on her couch, twisting her legs so that she could sit on them rather than let them dangle off the edge.

Camellia began to absent-mindedly page through a book, one that she’d recently started but hadn’t gotten too much into, at least not yet. Not a reread, like a number of her other recent books had been. She settled into the pillows, the breeze of her fan moving her hair around her shoulders just slightly. She wasn’t dressed for bed yet, even though it was late - a pair of dark-washed high-waisted jean shorts and a white button-down short-sleeved blouse were still on from the day’s wear. The key necklace Gale had once given her - before she’d known - was around her neck.

The shades of her apartment were open, and she gazed out at the New York evening, the lights of the other apartments, the few clouds in the sky, the sense of home it provided, even if it wasn’t her Court. It was still home, still somewhere where she felt safe - even though part of her mind occasionally wondered what it would have been like to live back in Ireland.

Broken out of her other thoughts, she heard the buzz of her phone, which had been placed on a nearby table. At Jasper’s text, she felt a bright smile begin to cross her features and grabbed a small blanket - not that it was too terribly cold at all, but blankets were always needed if one was to observe the wonders of the universe. Some sort of unwritten rule that really ought to be written down somewhere. 

In only a pair of simple sandals, she made her way up to the rooftop terrace, the path highly familiar and well-travelled between the two of them. Even though the lights and busy traffic of New York City made a proper stargazing not wholly possible, it was still a tradition, trying to spot whatever they could, grateful when they saw more than what was expected. He’d even (and of course) propped open the door for her, and she snuck out, the thwack of metal against the brick small (he’d probably still hear it, though) as she made her way over to the lounge chair where he sat. “Care for some company?” She asked nodding her head in a motion that asked him to please move over. “I do find that partner stargazing can work even better the closer together you are.” She grinned.

Jasper’s head turned as soon as he heard the door open. It was Camellia, of course, her grin nearly as bright as his own. As she approached, he scooched to one side of the lounge chair, unbalancing it and nearly falling off in the process. Righting himself with a laugh, he patted the unoccupied half of the chair and waited for her to sit before he balanced himself on its other edge.

“Well, it’s a theory I’m happy to test,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. With her warmth beside him, he already felt more relaxed, the worries of the day melting away as her heat leaked in. She had that effect on him. Maybe they had too much history between them to be anything other than understanding, or maybe it was because they knew eachother almost better than themselves. Perhaps it was something else entirely.

Jasper didn’t think about it too much. He didn’t believe in jinxes, but he did believe in self-fulfilling prophecies, and questioning something without a reason to sounded like the beginning of one.

The last time they’d been up here was for a volley of Perseids, huddled together under a blanket, watching meteors streak across the sky. He hoped they’d get a repeat show; knew they wouldn’t. But in the sparsely-clouded sky tonight, he knew there was plenty of wonder to be found.

“You ever think there’s anyone up there?” he asked, stealing a glance at her. She smelled of dewy grass and fresh-cut flowers, a summer breeze in the early morning. “Looking up at us, a little blue dot in the sky. Watching us. Wishing on us. Doubting our existence—or celebrating it.” He sighed. “Wonder what they wish for.”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

shattered shadows

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

nickclas‌:

A beam of light hit the bride-to-be’s gold paper foil crown from above. It flickered off just as soon as she looked up at him. Nickel was biting down hard on his lower lip, grinning madly, trying not to crack up. He tucked away the flashlight. With one hand, he plucked a bottle, then another, then another from where Jasper had them pinned and set them back upright in the cabinet. His other arm slid neatly behind the bride-to-be’s back, and when Jasper had an arm free to settle all other problems, he guided her around and back out the bar. A friend with a pink paper crown came and met them, a clutch shaped like a lobster in her hands. She was fishing out cash.

“Last night to be picked up by someone you just met, huh?” Nickel said, relinquishing one to the care of the other. They both laughed, one more nervously than the other. Gold Crown turned, tottering away on gleaming heels back to the array of couches claimed by the bulk of her thirty-person party.

“I’m so sorry,” Pink Crown said, just before a roar went up. Nickel spun the dial, ‘dis-’attuning from their sputtering tea candle–in a loud room, his power allowed him be closer to the conversation. It was as if he had a microphone positioned in the place of the flame, and the microphone fed everything it picked up to him. There was no such thing as feedback, but it got disconcerting to hear things twice, from two different directions, and especially if it was a very loud sound. All of their gossip had been the highest quality shit. 

“It’s cool, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Nick said, swatting the air. He watched her pick out some bills from the lobster. When she offered them up, her dark eyes uncertain and enormous, he took the money without hesitation and folded it over his index finger. “Thanks. Feel sorry for you, playing babysitter … ”

He chatted a brief moment with Pink Crown, did a quick sweep for dead drinks, and returned to the bar see if Jasper had survived in the end. Nick handed him the ‘our friend is a drunken monster’ apology money and leaned close. “If Peri had been here to see her pull that shit,” Nickel said, in a low, wry voice. “She would have been slaughtered in front of us.”

Jasper’s muscles strained from pressing himself to the cabinet as Nick took his sweet time rectifying the situation. When it was clear Nick had the crisis handled, Jasper let himself relax, replacing the last two bottles on the shelf like nothing had ever happened. His breather would last for but a moment—there were another twenty-eight troublemakers to contend with, after all—but as long as it was his, he’d savor it.

With attention temporarily diverted away from him, Jasper allowed himself a minute to regard Nick with the cool gaze of one who had the luxury of observation without participation. He took in the laugh, the personability that made Nick so damn good at this job, and couldn’t help but wonder what lay beneath it all. He’d be the first to admit that he had long taken Nick at face value: quick-witted, perhaps, but relatively innocent in the great inner workings of the machine all around them. Nowadays, he wasn’t so sure. Ever since Nick had cornered him with some clever fire-based eavesdropping, Jasper couldn’t help but wonder what other secrets swirled beneath that finely groomed coif.

Jasper’s eyes trained on Nick as he returned from his brief foray into the partygoers’ orbit, looking no worse for wear despite their drunkenness reaching a fever pitch. He took the cash from Nick almost on autopilot, fanning out the bills in his fingers, then held out half for him to take back.

“If not for you I’d be soaked in gin right now, so…” he said, figuring no more explanation was necessary.

At the mention of Peridot, an unexpected laugh burst from his lips before he could stop it. He elbowed Nick, but he was grinning like a maniac. The image was too good: Peri, eyes full of fury, raising hell in front of two dozen thirty-somethings—scarring them for life, knowing her. Thankfully she was nowhere to be found, probably working her magic in the cavernous maw of the great beast they called their place of business, and the party would be gone before too long. He could see it in their glassy eyes, the way their feet had begun to shuffle instead of stomp. The party was losing momentum, and the antics of the missus in their midst hadn’t helped. Even so, women still clamored around the bar, some turned away, others obliged.

“I get the feeling we’re about due for a restock. Wanna help me out with that?”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

snare: set and sprung

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

fuisecg‌:

           Their history told of another time that was once a lot like this one, where it was only the two of them with a bottle between them and nothing but secrets to share in the dead of night. Only difference now was all the secrets that were keeping them apart. Lark had a few up her sleeves, even as her heart bled out and left her fragile when it came to keeping it all up inside where it was supposed to belong rather than in pieces for all to see. She hated it. The judgement on their features and the pity that they pushed in her direction when she passed them by, leaving Lark without a regard for them any more than they seemed to have for her own plight.

All she could do was the same thing she’d always done, shove it down and aside while masking the pain with whatever dimmed it while barely realizing that it dimmed the rest of her as well. Even with a false start to a smile with hungry eyes that couldn’t figure out if they craved more of what was in the bottle or the company that once had been all she wanted and so much more. Lark shrugged as she poured him the single, but before putting the bottle down she topped off her own drink with a splash more vodka to really cement it into the cracks of her bones.

She didn’t bother to acknowledge the speed in which the other downed their drink, tasting the liquid on her tongue before it burned nicely down the back of her throat as she took down a good third of her glass before she pulled it away from her lips. That was when she noticed that Jasper hadn’t left, but instead was seated by her side with his empty glass as a look of confusion colored her features for a split second before she wiped it away completely. 

It didn’t matter. He had made that clear, leaving her to piece herself together plenty on her own when the harshness of the glances was more than enough to cut right through her as she took another sip of her drink before she drained it fully and set it back on the counter by her other side where the bottle sat and called her name. Taste me. Drink me. Numb the pain. It would be so easy. All she had to was reach the bottom and then nothing else would matter, but she’d planned to keep her falling apart behind locked doors at her apartment rather than in the middle of The Rookery where anyone could see what little control she had over her own actions.

Lark decided then that she needed another drink when Jasper’s voice broke through the silence once more, leaving her reminded of the times when she could have listened to him talk about anything and everything before she wanted to kiss the words away. Or slap them. It was hard to tell anymore as she made another double and hesitated only for a moment before she gave him another single shot. “I remember,” she replied after a beat of silence as the bottle hit the counter along with her words that were stable and caught up somewhere between the past and the present which was where she preferred to live rather than in reality.

Another pause and her hand stilled against the edge of the glass, Lark’s eyes unfocused as she could feel the way others would cultivate their own nostalgia that filled her to the brim but then took it all away again like a kick to the chest. There was nothing of her own left, or so she thought, but the warmth of that night washed over her like a cheap thrill as the adrenaline had sent her blood racing along with the feel of his palm in her hand as she couldn’t imagine anyone who would have done what they had that night. Jasper had met her wildness with one of his own, restricted now while her own spirit was broken beneath the weight of her pain that was only helped by the one thing that stood between her and the people she’d once been loved by.

Or rather loved as best as she could be for one such as she. “I thought for a moment that you wouldn’t go with me, that you’d say we should wait it out like everyone else but I couldn’t wait up there anymore. I needed to get out of there.” Her glassy gaze lifted from the drink in her hand, untouched this time even as she could feel the warmth of it in her bones as it supplemented what was missing of her own accord before she glanced back in his direction. “You climbed down right there alongside me the entire time. Maybe even hit the ground first, but always had my back so that neither one of us would get caught.” Her lips twitched. “Then we got sick on that cotton candy.” But that was the past. Someone younger, far more naive than she let herself be anymore as she dropped his gaze before she gazed back out at nothing and took another long draw of her drink. 

Jasper observed how much she poured into her glass but said nothing. He had a feeling that if he did, she’d hate him for it. That was a conversation for another day, one free from so many unanswered questions and unspoken apologies, when this choking mist of uncertainty between them finally dissipated. If it ever did.

The silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity. For a moment he thought she’d just get up and walk out, leaving their mountain of memories discarded between them. But instead she lingered, hand on the bottle, eyes on the floor. Well, it was better than nothing. After all, this was the most they’d talked in months—and that was being generous.

To his surprise, she indulged him, sharing some memories of her own. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it: lungs burning with exertion, soles slapping against beaten-down grass, laughing ‘til they couldn’t breathe. He wondered when the last time she’d laughed was—not some broken bitter thing, but a real belly laugh, the kind that formed tears in her eyes and dimples in her cheeks.

“I know,” he said, quieter now. “I could see it on your face. But it wasn’t just you… I needed to do something crazy too.” He smiled, catching her gaze for but a moment before she looked away again. “I would have let myself get caught if it meant you got away clean.” The words came out before he could stop them. He could feel himself settling into old, comfortable patterns, powerless to resist them. They had been friends for so long; how could he not? At one point, he’d known her almost as well as he knew himself. Almost.

Seeing her now, though, he wondered if he really had known her as well as he thought. Had this drunken shade been lying in wait the whole time, ready to possess his friend when the time was right and her defenses were low? Did he have a hand in its genesis? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“You shoved it in my face, and I had blue in my hair for days.” He actually did laugh at that. “And then I bought you that big lollipop, but we dropped it on the way home and it shattered all over the street. I swear you were gonna cry.”

Almost without thinking, he picked up his glass for another drink. Before it could get more than a few inches up from the bar, though, he reconsidered, set it back down.

“Lark…” Nerves roiled in his stomach. Here goes nothing. “Someone else is gonna notice eventually, if they haven’t already. They don’t all know the stock like I do, but it’s getting more noticeable. I can’t cover for you forever.”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

shattered shadows

place: the rookery date: mid-august, late night rush partner: @nickclas

For all the enjoyment Jasper got out of his nights of quiet contemplation with Camellia, even he had to admit that he was at his best when his surroundings were alive with music and laughter. There was something about the energy of others out having a good time that made him stand a little taller, work a little harder. That particular night was more lively than usual—they were hosting a large group of bachelorettes, most of whom were already drunk. Jasper couldn’t help but wonder how the hell they’d even found the place, but business was business, right? The mess the staff would have to clean up later would be ugly, but at least everyone was having fun.

A little too much fun, maybe. Jasper could almost see it happen before it did: the head bachelorette, presumably the bride-to-be, let out a whoop and went behind the bar. Eyes wide, Jasper pushed through the crowd to stop her, but it was too late—she was already trying to climb up onto the counter, presumably to dance. Seeing the wobbliness in her limbs, he knew she wouldn’t make it to full height.

“Ma’am—ma’am, you can’t do that!” he said, frantic.

“’S my wedding, I can do whatever I want!” she slurred. On calf’s legs she tried to straighten up, but quickly lost her balance—straight into Jasper’s arms. He pulled her away from the liquor cabinet, but her heel caught on one of the supporting posts, causing the bottles of liquor to rattle around. Lightning-quick, he set her down and pressed his body against the case, just barely saving a few bottles from crashing to the floor.

He’d manage to pin them between his arms and the shelf’s edge, which left no leverage for him to actually maneuver them back up onto the shelf. It seemed like he had only two options here: try and shift them back onto the shelf, which would inevitably end in a spill, or shimmy them down to the counter, which would also end up in a spill. There was a third option, however…

“Nick,” he called, hoping he had a chance of being heard over the music. “Niiiiiiiiick!”

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

snare: set and sprung

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

fuisecg‌:

           Lark hadn’t been thinking of anything other than the alcohol in hand, using it as a deterrent to battle the demons that were sure to rise up in the space that she’d created for them within her chest. All the lingering emotions of nostalgia and love, they slipped through her fingers with ease as they trailed out with those in the crowd as well as the people who worked behind the scenes that could immerse themselves in her music. They all walked away with a lighter step, a desire to return, and a feeling that was reminiscent to those created by the elixirs that passed through the court. 

She didn’t get any of that when she was left with an emptiness inside that knocked around in her chest, feeling for the echoing of other’s memories and connections that made her sing until her heart would burst out of her chest to reach each and every last one of them. But her gasping breath in the dressing room was a look that she didn’t share with anyone, even without the glamours anymore – Lark was careful, enough.

Not to the point where she was paying attention to the fact the lights were still on in some places, leading her to realize if she’d noticed that she wasn’t alone in the bar. It was too late by then, hearing them step out with a voice that could have caught her off guard if she didn’t prepare herself to hear it on the nights when Aster wasn’t behind the bar. A voice that she could recall countless decades with, twining her past with his until it fractured and she was only realizing that his voice in her head reminded her of all that was wrong. 

With a turn of her head, curls fell over her bare shoulder as the over sized coat she wore like a security blanket had slipped down in her scrambling over the bar to where she perched now with crossed legs and matching bare feet. Her clothes were the ones she’d worn to The Rookery earlier, nothing like the outfit she’d shimmered in onstage but something that would help her to blend into the city when she stepped out and back into another world on her way home. Vodka in hand. Vodka that he was looking to share as she shot him a questioning look that bordered on the edge of exhaustion as her facade was getting harder to hold onto like nothing was wrong.

She hesitated for a moment longer, a curl of a smirk on her lips at the other’s quip before she turned back towards the bar that she’d been behind moments earlier and reached over for two glasses. “Looks to me like you’re in the right place,” she told him casually with a calm air that was completely put together at the last moment before she was opening the bottle and pouring them both a drink from her perch on top of the bar counter. “Single or double?” Her drink was already a double as she wavered over his glass for a moment, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. 

Jasper watched with rapt attention as Lark took him in, from the nonchalance of her pose to the icy disregard in her eyes. Beneath it all, though, was a hungry, desperate look, one he’d never seen on her before.

Well, that wasn’t true. He’d glimpsed it… he just hadn’t wanted to. It had been easier to leave this particular can of worms to its private writhing, but in light of recent events, he didn’t think he could do that anymore. Suddenly their time left on this earth seemed a lot shorter than it had but weeks ago. And judging by the glint in her eye, each minute wasted ignoring her plight was another grain of sand that neither of them could ever get back. He wondered how many grains she had left in her, then regretted even having the thought.

It took a moment of deliberation, but at last he replied “Single.” He didn’t drink much, and though he could hold his liquor decently, he wasn’t looking to get wasted with an old-possibly-ex friend tonight—though the thought was tempting.

He took the glass from its place at her side and lifted it in a mock toast, though what he was toasting to was uncertain. Bracing himself, he threw back the liquor, savoring the taste. Though perhaps “savor” wasn’t the right word—he tasted it, alright, felt the warm burn of it streak down his throat, crinkled his nose at the bitter aftertaste. To Lark, he must have looked like a teenager, unable to hold his liquor. Fortunately, he had become numb to her judgments long ago, secure in the fact that they were mostly harmless.

Drink finished, he set the glass back down next to her—though he knew she’d probably fill it up again—and hopped up onto the bar next to her. He was quiet for a moment, feet dangling over the edge, before he spoke:

“Do you remember that time we went to the fair? We went on the ferris wheel, and the view was just—just breathtaking. Lights for miles around,” he began, not daring to look at her face for fear of what he might find there. “And on the way down, it got stuck. But not in any interesting place, no… we were almost at the bottom, so we couldn’t even see anything. So we waited for like half an hour, just goofing around.”

He bumped her shoulder gently with his own. The alcohol had begun to spread out from his heart with grasping tendrils, clutching his chest with warmth, pinking his cheeks.

“So we waited and waited and waited, but they couldn’t fix it fast enough, so we got fed up and climbed down the side of our carriage and dropped down onto the landing. And the guy was so mad—yelling about how we couldn’t do that—and we just ran and ran and ran, and we hid behind the cotton candy shop until he gave up.”

He looked at her then, some twisted fear coiled in his chest telling him she wouldn’t remember, almost like it had never happened.

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

snare: set and sprung

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

fuisecg‌:

            Another night, another set finished and Lark was reeling in her private space to pull herself back together before she went out there again. Tonight had been a bad one, feeling the drain on her emotions even before she stepped off the stage to the point where she locked herself away for as long as it took to silence the voices in her head and the ache in her chest. It was pounding there, ever increasingly louder than before as she felt the tension and deaths loom over her head after Luna Park. 

Though even as she struggled with every breath, every step; she only ever performed with a smile on her features as well as putting her best foot forward with an air of elixir that kept her wrapped up tight enough that she could pretend they were the arms of someone who loved her. Someone who could see the cracks but would accept them rather than judge and pull at her until she fell apart completely. Her fear overwhelmed all her sense as she pulled herself together enough to step from her room and into the emptied out Rookery. Eventually others would catch on to her reluctance to work the crowds after a performance when Aster wasn’t on duty, but tonight wasn’t one of them when there wasn’t a soul waiting for her to reappear.

Some nights she could be out there, mingle with the crowds and charm a few hesitant souls from tasting an elixir or two before she’d pocket whatever they bought in their over exuberance to feel the high that each elixir brought. They wouldn’t notice one missing and she’d make it a few more days without feeling as she did right now, something missing in her chest. But there was another way she could drown it out as she stepped out into the bar and found it empty as her eyes lit up when she found what she was looking for; vodka. 

Her mind didn’t think about the cost or if anyone would miss another bottle, only that it would keep her company when her own company was repulsive. Lark didn’t so much as smile to herself or anyone else as she stepped up and over the bar to grab herself a bottle that no one would notice was missing. No one that would suspect the girl on stage, singing her heart out time and time again until she couldn’t resolve if it were still beating on it’s own accord or only reverberating what others felt when she sang. Tonight she didn’t want to think about it. Tonight she only wanted to get through it before Aster could replace the hole with someone stronger than alcohol as she set it on the bar and climbed back on again, seated and ready to slip off into the night.

Jasper’s heart fluttered with caged wings as he laid in wait, pressing himself against the wall. Tap-tap-tap came a pair of shoes—he tracked each step from the far side of the room to behind the bar. Then, there it was, the telltale clink that he heard a thousand times each night. Yet none were so significant as this particular sound, like a mousetrap snapping shut.

The tracking, the patience, the clang of metal on metal: a hunter’s calling card. Time to see what he’d caught.

Peering around the doorframe, he laid eyes on the person who’d been the cause of his inventory woes… and was completely unprepared for what he saw.

He’d recognize those caramel curls anywhere. If he closed his eyes and breathed in deep, he could still remember how they smelled, too. There was a time when he would have described Lark as a friend—maybe more. But those days were long behind them now. Things had been cordial between them for a long while, but cordial was a far cry from their heyday, when their exploits threatened to set the world on fire. Some days he didn’t even recognize the girl on the stage… but if she knew what he’d been getting up to in his spare time lately, she might say the same of him.

Stealing alcohol though, really? He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or disappointed. Before him stretched two alternate paths with wildly different ends: down one, he was the enforcer, protecting his stock but earning her ire along the way. Down the other, he could be the enabler. If he wanted, he could just turn around and pretend this little indiscretion hadn’t happened and be on his merry way.

But there was a third path. If she really had been the one “borrowing” bottles after hours, then what she probably needed more than anything else was a friend. He wasn’t sure he was that person, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

And so, taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the shadows and into the open.

“I don’t know about you, but I could really use a drink,” he said, wearing a soft smile.

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

snare: set and sprung

place: the rookery date: august 3rd, after closing partner: @fuisecg

The swipe of a damp cloth—heavy boxes back and forth—clink of bottles in their places.

Too many bottles. It wasn’t the first time Jasper had noticed it, either. After working at the Rookery for so long, the great heaves and sighs of customer demand were now second nature to him. Despite the great variability of customers’ orders, they made little difference on the whole picture. Vodka drinkers liked vodka, regardless of whether it came in the form of a cosmo or a mule. He knew the regulars from the irregulars, pegged supply disruptors before they could disrupt. He’d long learned to predict which holidays would drink them dry and which would leave something to be desired.

It stood to reason that when the supply patterns changed, when he found himself being hounded for a liquor that he was sure they didn’t need yet, he grew suspicious. He downplayed those suspicions at first, telling himself that their customer base had just been growing, nothing to write home about. But some niggling thought in the back of his mind told him to keep a watchful eye out, count the inventory extra carefully at the end of the day.

So count he did. Day after day, week after week—not looking for a pattern, exactly, so much as to assuage his doubts. Unfortunately, his notes did nothing but raise more and more questions. Someone was siphoning from their supply, he was sure of it. But who and why, well, he’d just have to find out.

It was this resolution which drove him to linger past closing that day. He performed his duties out front as usual, though his heart beat a little bit quicker in his throat, and then moved to the back, where he would normally finish out his workday by taking out the trash and the recycling that the bar had generated that evening. Rather than actually going to the back, however, he lingered in the shadowed doorway, listening for that telltale clink of glass against glass that might incriminate the thief.

The trap was set. All he had to do was wait.

[grayfox-redheart-blog]

a place among the stars

place: The Bowery Terrace date: Mid-August partner: @camelliafairchild

Crickets chirping in the moonlight; branches swaying in the breeze. Jasper couldn’t hear either, but if he closed his eyes tight enough, he could imagine it: the ever-present stream of traffic fading away, distant honking becoming bird calls, summer heat giving way to fall’s crisp breeze.

Up above, clouds of smog smothered all but the brightest stars. He couldn’t help but recall a simpler time long ago, when he was first coming of age, when the stars were visible in every direction. That time took on an almost mythical quality now, so implausible did it seem. He’d pinch himself if he didn’t know it factually to be his own life.

Eyes cast skyward, the worries that had plagued his sleep that night seemed to melt away, trickling in viscous rivulets down his brainstem. They had that effect. Looking up at those impossibly far pinpoints high above his head, his troubles seemed so small and insignificant. What did Cassiopeia care for the loss of a life? How could Hydra know the scent of burnt flesh? Tracing constellations with a languid gaze, he couldn’t help but wonder what unknown planets might spin round their shores, what untold marvels they clutched to their starry chests like precious pearls. Jasper would give anything to glimpse them, knew he never would.

The trickles remained. Try as he might to ignore them, horrified faces darted in and out of his periphery, dancing at the edges of his consciousness: unable to be viewed directly, possessing a weight that dogged his steps and labored his breaths. Even the stars could not help him tonight.

His gaze traveled westward, flitting over Libra basking in the moon’s light, then to Virgo, whose bright-shining Spica dared defy the glittering city lights. On, then, to lonesome Jupiter, with its quiet kindness. That pale yellow had always reminded him of Camellia, the warm welcome of her smile, the soft flaxen waves of her hair. She should be here to see this—it was not his to view alone.

Jupiter shines brightly for you tonight, he typed in their many-storied text thread. He glanced at the brick he’d propped between the door and its hinge, knew the thwack of metal hitting clay wouldn’t be far behind.

[feywildrp]

THE INSURGENT // Jasper. Earth fey: Boxer. Unseelie Court.               Born in 1946. Living at Avalon Bowery, Apt. 08C.

Personal Power: Tremors; wherever Jasper’s feet touch the ground, he can start little earthquakes as deep as 10 feet and wide as 30 feet; range correlates to anger.

KNOWN TRAITS // Idealistic, rebellious, outspoken, headstrong, loyal.

The pressure that turns coal into diamonds. Tectonic plates shifting underfoot. Shaky legs and shaking hands. Honesty like a fault line. An epicenter heart. Bones that fracture from impact. The focus it takes to be the unstoppable force against an immovable object. Shallow grave breathing. That which is buried can always be exhumed. Soil that needs to be tilled for new life to take root. Clean water on parched earth. Even settled dust knows a breeze. 

History

It is known that Archfey lines can turn into regular fey lines, but no one talks of the shame of it. What happened to suffocate the magic? What deed had been the burden? No one knows. And yet, that’s what happened to Jasper’s line. Full fey though Jasper is, his mother was an Archfey and his father a full fey, and no Wild Hand was passed down to him. Sometimes, he feels anger at his mother over choosing a partner who would cause this—but he knows it’s not her fault. There was no correlation. There was luck of the draw, and luck didn’t come up for him, nor for his elder sister. All the same, his embarrassment made it hard to be close with any members of his family. Part of Jasper, in his subconscious, is always chasing what he wishes was his due. That’s why he spent too much time loitering around the castle, which is precisely how he met the Princess, Camellia. Soon, Jasper far preferred to spend his time in her company and among her peers than around his own family, who he slowly came to feel were beneath him, though he’d never articulate it that way. In Jasper’s mind, for once, luck smiled on him: he and Camellia became the best of friends. In time, Jasper even forgot his longing for his entitlements and found contentment.

However, the closer he grew to Camellia, the more mistrustful he became of her mother, Queen Lacha. Though he knew he owed the Queen his every loyalty, he found her to be, while clever, inflexible to the needs of her Court. Jasper felt that Camellia, with her soft airs and considerations, would be a much more competent ruler. For awhile, he kept that to himself. Then, it slowly dawned on Jasper: Lacha’s whole “virgin queen” tactic read plainly to him as an unwillingness to share power, even with those she theoretically loved. It felt like watching his childhood happen to someone else: being owed power and then denied it. He feared that even when Camellia came into her ruling hand, that Lacha would never step down—or worse, that Lacha would kill Camellia first. It was this realization that turned Jasper into a rebel leader. He wouldn’t let that fate happen. Jasper began by rounding up all the fey unhappy with Lacha’s strict rules; he knew there were some who had known prior reigns, who would remember that things could be different. Capitalizing on young, eager individualists and older, restricted fey, Jasper created his rebellion: a vision for a better Unseelie Court. One where the people wouldn’t be living in fear, but instead bound by a loyalty borne out of love. A love that, for him, stemmed from his chosen home. 

GAME UPDATE 07/21: During 2018′s annual An Fidchell battle, Jasper and Peridot made the first big move of the Fox Rebellion by setting a feyry fire along with a banner after the conclusion of the game. They were sure not to leave anything too identifying in order to maximize the chaos and sow contention into the Seelie Court as well, though their priorities lie with their own rebellion. Details here.

Occupation

Rebel & Barback.

Jasper named it the Fox Rebellion, as Lacha means duck in Gaelic and foxes prey upon ducks. He shows little regard for the tradition of naming royals as prey animals, which would be considered offensive to any loyalist. He calls his rebels Foxes when code is required. When referring to the leader specifically, Jasper is Gray Fox. He tries to keep a low profile, as so continues airs of loyalty and maintains his job as a barback at the Rookery.

Connections

Camellia: Jasper’s best friend in the world and ticket to a better future. His friendship is true and altruistic; he hides nothing when it comes to her. He even believes he may be in love with her—but he is unaware: is that truth, or is it another subconscious facet of his desire for his due? After all, should they wed, he could be her King.

Peridot: A member of Jasper’s covert rebellion, Jasper would view her as his right-hand woman. She was the first to pledge to the rebellion as an older fey who misses the more lassaiz-faire style of the Queen before Lacha. Jasper trusts her almost as much as he trusts Camellia and believes they have the same interests at heart.

Queen Lacha: He secretly hates her. Is she as bad as he imagines her to be? —Does it matter? Jasper is convinced that her every action has a sinister ulterior motive and refuses to trust her. He can fake his loyalty, but if push came to shove, it would be difficult for him to follow a direct order he didn’t agree with.

PLAYLIST 1. Lanterns // 2. Flaws // 3. Ready Aim Fire

Jasper is portrayed by Bob Morley. The faceclaim is NEGOTIABLE.  Jasper is currently OPEN and AVAILABLE for application.