N A T H A I R

nathair. 5,000+. she/they.

[lobelianathair]

arowankeriran‌:

bedlamroad‌:

Blood doesn’t stir much in him, it’s the sort of thing that, unfortunately, a person can grow accustomed to if enough of their time is spent in the company of it. Seeing his fair share, if not more, left a mark too long ago for Thorne to put time to, a twinge of crimson has overcast too many of his days for a little more of it to inspire much wariness. It’s too much of a stain on his own hands to be a shock. Irritation, raised hackles at the prospects of someone, or something, bringing that reminder of the dark cloud too many of his kin and cousins were trying to ignore with parties and distance right to his own backyard leaves him restless with anger though, just short of pacing the circle. Thorne is, unsurprisingly, by nature more territorial than many of the Fae and it’s not only a grim discovery but a personal sort of insult, maybe even a hint of self-directed frustration that he failed to notice something so close happening right under his nose.

He doesn’t answer at first, it’s common enough knowledge that his home is barely a walk from the sticky trails along the ground, close enough that if he had the good sense to ignore the lure of the past few days he might have nearly smelled the blood in the air. 

Eventually he has to speak though, with a muttered tone and an expression far too similar to a wolf with teeth drawn tensely. “I can practically see it from my cabin, but I wasn’t there last night.” Damned distractions, the mistake makes him seethe for letting that guard drop and having Nathair show up to question him over the one place he’s more familiar with than most; it needles his pride more than he’ll admit. 

He earns it then, apparently for his own foolish ignorance, the annoyance of having to deal with both of them. He’s not even remotely the same person between them, could not have picked a worse set if he’d personally tried to, but it wasn’t a choice. The Queen didn’t grant many choices, Nathair granted even fewer to him.   Doesn’t matter; there’s too much tension to bother with games. 

His eyes only shift to Keiran momentarily with the crackle and crunch of his steps in approach, devoid of the cynic’s humor from their previous conversation, flat and focused. He knows why they’re both here, destruction pairs well with ruin when dealing with ugly matters; fire with fire. “I guess we’re all here now,” his lingering tone suggests that he might have preferred for it to not be a group effort, but so be it.

[ @arowankeriran​ ]

There’s a feeling of dread in his stomach as he makes his way through the wilds, back to the circle and beyond toward their meeting place. The idea of something lurking in the trees, unseen by them and their best scouts, it’s enough to send a chill down his spine. 

He doesn’t bother trying to quieten himself on his approach, allowing his footsteps to fall upon branches, allowing the trees to rustle as he comes near. He greets them both with nothing more than a grim shadow of a smile, adjusts his shoulders and sinks into the comforting reminder of the weapons he keeps on him far too often, these days. His bow. His blade. Safety nets. 

“Stopped to check the other side of the circle’s clearing. No sign of our visitor there.” 

His eyes gravitate toward the tracks, crouching down to get a better look at them, eyes keen and ready to examine, ready to hunt. His eyes have a worried edge to them, he knows, when he looks back to at his two companions. 

“S’hard to imagine that something could get so close and we wouldn’t notice it.” He says, voice gruff and slow. There’s a spark of guilt, too. He had gotten distracted the night before, lost in love’s eyes and not as dedicated to his work as he should have been. He shakes his head, tries to brush the feeling away. 

He raises to his feet again, grim in the face of it all, glancing between the two. “How far do they lead?” 

[ @lobelianathair​ ]

“I doubt whoever left these will be that easy to catch,” she sighs. Kneeling down next to Kieran, she dabs her gloved index finger into the nearest small pool of blood. The blood had been there long enough to have coagulated, creating a small film at the top. Whoever left this for them had done it much earlier that morning. As she rubs the patch of crimson between her finger and thumb, a small whiff of something foul hits her nostrils. Poison perhaps? Maybe from the edge of a laced weapon, or maybe something had been mixed into it prior to being left behind? Removing the stained glove from her hand, she turns it inside out, and stuffs it into her coat pocket for later.

“They’re a little all over the place,” she answers his second question as she looks out at the array of tracks littering the ground around them. “There doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to them- which means they’re either trying to cover up their true direction, or luring us into a wild goose chase. Either way we’ve got no choice but to follow the damn things.” 

With a grunt she lifts herself up off the hardened earth, and looks over towards her other companion for that day. “You likely know these woods better than the both of us,” she nods in Thorne’s direction, “do you want to lead while Keiran and I follow behind, and keep our eyes open for any other signs of our little friend here?” 

[lobelianathair]

katurianonyx‌:

“Sometimes even I enjoy an indulgence,” he jokes, before shaking his head. Perhaps if this had been a different midsummer, there would have been a game to play. A chance for them both to take the rare chance to indulge in the sort of trivial matters others focused on every day. But that isn’t their lot, certainly not now, with so much to be on the lookout for. For now, a moment of unspoken solidarity on the edges of the party would have to be enough, before they got back to things. Still, that could never slow his thoughts, and it’s impossible not to grow more serious even briefly.

He hums his agreement. That was the eternal issue, after all. Change. At the end of the day, that had always been at the root of most of the problems he was there to take care of, and also precisely why he did so, and not someone else. Change isn’t something that has ever scared him the way it does other fae. What is an eternity worth if you’re stuck with sameness? It’s almost funny to him how unwilling to accept that others are, when their moods are so fickle, when they crave excitement. 

“Yes, you’re certainly right about that,” he nods, voice quieter. There’s no need to dive into everything just now, especially not when so many others are around, but it goes without saying the importance of looking to what happens after midsummer is over, when they go their separate ways, just how separate that is. “I suppose we’ll just have to continue to keep our eyes open, assess things as they come. This is the beginning of something, though, whether everyone wants to admit it or not.”

They take in his words for a moment, quietly mulling them over in their head. Change was coming no matter what, they just prayed it would be the kind of change that would help elevate their kind rather than destroy it. They wonder just what kind of world Katurian had hoped to see after all of this was said and done. They’d seen his devotion to their queen, so much similar to their own. They do not seeing him betray Sorcha to the Seelie to gain some kind of advantage. But could he betray her if collapsing the system meant saving them all from themselves? It was the very question they’d been asking themself since they came under her rule. Their loyalty to their queen was more fierce than they’d ever felt towards a monarch, but still they felt a stronger responsibility towards their own kind. Did Katurian feel the same? 

Such questions were better asked in quieter rooms, and in much more layered ways. They both were walking the same tight robe between duty for their court and their people, and Nathair didn’t want to send either of them tipping off the side. 

“I suppose we will,” they nod finally, and glance over towards him for a moment, their eyes silently asking the question they couldn’t vocalize: But will we do it together or apart? Finishing off their drink they, they stand, stretching their back out in the process. “If you do find something do let me know, you know how much I hate being left out of the loop.” Flashing him a small smirk they leave him behind to further his own machinations. 

[lobelianathair]

tourmalinecrown‌:

He nods, at her words—he knows it wears; he sees it in Sorcha’s eyes, whenever he does see her, saw it in her eyes earlier this afternoon for the brief amount of time they spoke. There is a rift, between them, he knows, that he cannot mend as long as the courts are separate. He is at fault for that in his own ways, as much as it is also determined by things he cannot yet control. But he feels better, feels still and at peace with it, knowing that she has Nathair at her side when she cannot have him there. 

     ‘She has felt every one of these deaths like a mark upon her heart,’ he says, and though he can not know for sure that it is true, he feels certain that it is: she is his daughter, after all, and has always felt things as deeply as he does, if not more so. And Brín has been the same, grieving every lost life, even the ones not in his own court. The lost ones, the solitary, even the unseelie he feels no real connection to. The two of them, still so young, with so much weight born on their shoulders alone. ‘But she doesn’t have to suffer it alone anymore. We can be grateful for that, at least.’

He is quiet, for a moment, and still, weighing the balance of things, measuring his heart against his mind. This festival, after all, is a show of unity, however temporary, between the courts. He hopes that it will be permanent: he intends to make it so. But on a day like today no one can say there is anything improper about two members of different courts clasping hands in solidarity.

So he offers his hand out in front of himself for Nathair to take, should she choose. A moment of comfort, for her, a moment to take the weight off of her shoulders, so that she’ll bear it all the better when they return to normal.

     ‘Thank you, for that.’

She smiles at his words, not realizing how much she needed to hear them. She’d been worrying for months how helpful her presence truly was for her queen, or if she was simply a distraction that could hurt her. Although that concern is very much still present in her psyche, she allows herself to simply take in Declan’s praise and let it warm her for a moment. 

Despite their occasional disagreements, and the opposing sides they now stood on, he was still her compass in so many ways, often thinking of how he’d respond to the endless choices she had to make while at Sorcha’s side. He of course would have never allowed himself to get as intimately involved with his sovereign as she had, which is perhaps why she struggles so much in trying to figure out how to navigate the treacherous path she’d embarked on. She wonders if he’d had any clue of the depth of her relationship with his daughter, but quickly shook off the idea. If he had, she would have already heard it by now, and his words would have been far more coarse. 

When he extends his hand, she simply looks at it at first. The formality of it pains her, millennia spent side by side, and here they are shaking hands like acquaintances at the end of a dinner. She knew she had to shake her mind free of what was, and give all her focus to the present. What they shared before was now long broken, and grieving over the shards that remained would serve her no purpose other than to further distract her from the task before her.

Extending her hand out, she stiffens her posture, reminding herself of the very lessons he taught her, as she grasps her hand in his and shakes it briefly. 

“Of course,” she nods, and removes her hand the moment it would be appropriate. Shifting her focus back to the party, which she could still see through the leaves behind him, she scans for the very queen in question, and finds her still seated with Katurian. “I should get back,” she adds, nodding towards the party as she flexes the hand that once held his. Looking back to him she hesitates as she tries to figure out a proper goodbye before landing on. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.” And with that she leaves, more shaken than she’d like by the interaction. 

[lobelianathair]

unqueensorcha‌:

It’s a sweet victory to have captured their gaze, those piercing eyes that always see too much. Beloved scout, beloved servant, the firm hand that Sorcha always needs to help her lead her little kingdom. A sweet victory and a beautiful thing. The words fill her with such fond amusement, all this talk of trust. “My ability to trust any man is a fickle and flighty thing, you know that.” Wry and amused, sharing this common knowledge that Sorcha’s true and honest trust was a hard thing to win. She wondered, sometimes, why Nathair had been given it so freely. Perhaps it was her fathers influence. He’d trained them, practically raised them. He’d let them go on their merry way when Nathair had started feeling Sorcha’s pull. 

She trusted Katurian, sure enough, to be alone with them in any situation, even on her most fragile of days. Still, she liked when Nathair watched. She liked that gaze to be firmly on her.

Standing just a little straighter as she sees their gaze flicker, as they inch closer. God, what a tease. It wasn’t as if they’d really touch, here where anyone could see the weakness of it. It’s nice to picture it, none the less. Lips meeting lips in the middle of this fray. Sorcha never dared, not in front of her foolish little courtiers. Couldn’t have them thinking she needed a king, couldn’t have them knowing that she yearned for touch, be it gentle or rough or somewhere in the middle of the two. They’re close enough that they could break the rules of it, lean in and steal something. She knows they won’t, even if she wanted them to. And Sorcha wouldn’t truly force it, either. “Quite a talent of mine,” She breathes, slow and syrupy sweet. “I know how to keep them on the hook.” 

Those bright eyes meet her own sharp gaze again, and she almost breathes a laugh, relishes in the feeling of the warm breath when Nathair moves and whispers low. The words do win a huff of laughter, in the end. Secret and safe, the kind of thing that comes out too often around this favoured fiend of hers. “Is that so?” She asks, quiet. It should make her shudder at the thought of it, someone knowing what she wants. It should, but it doesn’t. It’s nice to be seen, on rare occasions and by rare souls. “And yet I find myself disappointed so often.” A tilt of her head. “Curious. Perhaps we share a the same talent.” 

They were being foolish, allowing their emotions to rule them so heavily, like the lust driven fae they always looked down upon. It was nice though, allowing themself even if just for a moment to drop their responsibilities that have chained them. But a moment is all they will allow themself, as they pull away from her, and step back into a much safer distance from their queen.The war that raged between their head and their heart was a constant and bitter one, but generally always ended the same. It was their affection for their queen, and the desire to not see her burn in a pyre of their own creation, that drove them into following their better judgement. 

They do worry, as she continues to poke and lure their darker nature out from hiding, how long they’ll be able to hold on. She was getting to know them better, learning quickly what she could do to trigger a certain reaction. How long would it be until the day she’s able to distract them enough that they can’t control themself? They’d left their home and court for her’s all under the idea that they’d be of service to her, but what if they were wrong? What if instead of help Sorcha become the great ruler they knew her to be, they became the one thing that would be her ruin? 

There would be a day, one they prayed wasn’t soon, where they knew a decision would have to be made they didn’t particularly want to make. Deep down they knew whatever this was between the them and their queen couldn’t continue forever. They’d seen up close and personal how Brin’s romantic dalliances had nearly ended his rule, and they would be damned if they even came close to doing that to Sorcha. 

Too much of a coward to confront that harsh truth right then and there, they instead focus on the beaming queen before them, grinning from ear to ear like the cat that just got the cream. “Perhaps,” they smile, once again finding the weight on their shoulders lifting as they look back at her. They wondered if she really knew just how willing they were to die for her. Very likely one day they would, but whether that death be on the battlefield, or the lifelong one of living without her was simply a matter of which came first. 

Folding their hands behind their back, they nod their head, making the move to leave her by the pyre for the evening. As they step by her though, they pause briefly, and lower their voice once more for her ears only. “And perhaps if you find yourself looking at that window tonight, it won’t be disappointment you’ll find.” Giving her one last smile, they walk back down to the party below as their thoughts remained on the queen behind them. 

[lobelianathair]

katurianonyx‌:

A breath of laughter escapes his lips at their words. Sometimes he considers how it must’ve been for them amongst the Seelie. It’s hard to imagine, even from the glimpses he caught of the times before, when they were closer to an enemy than an ally, and he only had the knowledge that came from being the often times unfortunate messenger to the summer court’s halls. That’s the thing about them that perhaps keeps him most interested, and the thing that made them easier to trust, all in all they don’t fit wholly into either. All the luckier that makes them, in his eyes, that they chose their court. Maybe to someone with less keen eyes, that would be a concern––if they swapped once, what’s to say it won’t happen again? But he knows what it’s like. He sees himself reflected in their eyes when they look at Sorcha. Impossible to betray her once caught up in that storm. And he’s fairly certain she’s more caught than even him, in her own way.

“Both. I’m not a very good friend to have, I’ve heard. But maybe not so cruel as loneliness,” he shrugs, with a small laugh. “Perhaps tonight I’d rather wait and see if anyone considers me a suitable party to risk chapped lips for.”

A joke, not truly the case, of course. There’s too much to do, too many plans swirling in his head to think about trivial matters. Even if the chances of someone slipping up, too drunk on cherry wine to hold their tongue, are low, that’s not to say there aren’t other possibilities with the night. He glances back over the crowd, looking to the other edges of the party for another familiar head of dark hair.

“I promise you’ll be the first to know if someone deserves a little bit of violence. Plenty of time still for someone to slip up,” Katurian says, looking back at them, expression suddenly serious again. “Everyone’s playing nice. A facade, or perhaps less are opposed to this sort of coming together than one would think.”

“Ah, so you’re more in the mood to be the hunted than the hunter this evening,” they smile around the rim of their goblet before taking a sip. Looking towards those nearest them, they almost consider creating a little game for the two of them to play, and see which nearest fool they could drawl in to their table to chat up Katurian. Perhaps they would have if it weren’t for the fact the two of them were considered hosts in their own right for this event. Tricking hapless fools into coming on to Katurian likely wouldn’t be seen in good taste. 

“I suppose you can stay then,” they tease, as if his presence were even in question to begin with. They hated to admit it, but they were starting to get bored sitting off to the sides by themself. They were far from an extrovert, but even they could only watch others drink the night away for so long. 

The shift in mood causes an uneasy feeling to rise in their chest, as they were forced to consider the position they were now all in. Coming together for at least this one time was certainly the smartest decision, but she wasn’t fool enough to know many would fight against any act. She’d spent enough time in both courts to know how difficult a truce would be- even one so temporary. 

“I think a little of both,” they confess. “Change is not something so readily accepted, especially for creatures so set in their ways. No matter what we do, we’ll end up with those that’ll see us better removed from the positions we’re in.” Nathair had always been of the mindset that the fae themselves were more important than the courts, but she knew the difficulty that posed. For one, it challenged her own loyalty to her queen. And two, should she fail it was likely she’d ever be allowed to set foot in a court again. 

[lobelianathair]

maehvc‌:

Maeve smiled brightly, clapping her hands in delight when Nathair said she could stay. She’d always admired the other Fae, unapologetically fierce and deadly, a power in her own right even when she stood underneath Declan’s shadow. Some part of her was also envious, the way many viewed them so starkly different; Maeve, a pretty, useless thing at Brín’s side, a pawn at most, as if her desire for vengeance, her capacity for cruelty, could not measure up to theirs, while Nathair, strong and deliciously savage, was regarded as a valuable warrior, a weapon.  

“Brin will find me when he needs me.” Maeve countered, tone mild, her body always in motion, - light, airy, in flight - as if the music had a constant hold on her. “Or I will find him when I need him. Ours is a connection that cannot be severed, after all.” She giggled, spinning, drunk on wine and her feelings of devotion for her beloved Prince. Oh, how she would go to the ends of the earth for him, spill blood so the rivers flowed, the seas rose with it. 

“And how is she, your Queen?” Maeve’s eyes glittered, a smile curling on her lips, stepping forward, closer, voice soft and intimate. “Is she as vicious as they say she is? Tell me, tell me, what life is like over there? How different is it?” Her eyes light up with a dangerous, consuming curiosity. 

She almost immediately regrets telling Maeve yes after the spill of laughter escapes the younger fae’s lips. Maeve was always one to gather attention, even when she didn’t necessarily mean to. She was Seelie to the bone, all sweet smiles hidden under vicious thoughts. Even now Nathair could feel a couple sets of eyes turn towards them, but when she looked she found they were all too enamored by her companion to even bother looking her way. If they did she supposes it wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing, the purpose of this ball was to bring the two courts together, which is precisely what she was doing conversing with someone like Maeve. 

“No,” Nathair shakes her head, “and I pray that day never comes.” And she was being sincere with the remark, the two relied heavily on one another, but especially Maeve. Nathair had grown accustomed to loss, knew it was always an inevitable, but she knew any such loss would break Maeve the day it came. For her sake she hoped that day never did come, or if it did that Maeve wasn’t alive to experience the aftermath. 

She rolls her eyes, at the girls’ next line of questing, a small smile etched across her lips. “Oh even more so,” they reply sternly before letting out a quiet chuckle, finding it difficult to keep their usual decorum around her. There was still an innocence to her that most of their kind had lost by now. Each step she took, and word she spoke, brought with it the air of childlike curiosity. To snuff it out would be cruel, and so she found herself complying with her more than fighting her. 

“It’s very much the same, yet completely different than the Summer Court,” she replies, with a shrug of her shoulders. “The Winter Court is just a little bit more forthright about their sins. It’s also cold,” they add after a pause, the small smile returning to their features, “very very cold.” 

[lobelianathair]

location: the stone circle

date: june 22, afternoon

status: closed to @bedlamroad​, @arowankeriran​

The news hits her harder than she expected that morning, as reports of tracks and blood near the Stone Circle- their circle, come in. True, there was no body, but that didn’t mean much to her. Someone still stepped into their sacred place and tainted it with blood her kind hadn’t spilled themselves. She took it as a warning, that whoever was doing this was much closer than she thought, and held no reservations in making such a bold claim in her court’s territory. 

She arrives earlier than the others, not wanting neither Thorne or Kieran to see her initial reaction to it all. Her breaths were unsteady as she closes in on the soiled earth. This place, where the war council would so often meet, was no stranger to her, but it felt like it that day. The air, normally charged, felt different- chillier than usual. Something unwelcome had crossed the stones threshold, and it wasn’t welcome. 

Thirty minutes after she arrives she can hear at least one of her two companions approach. Turning towards the sound, she immediately recognizes Thorne, and gives him a curt nod. Choosing Thorne and Kieran of all the Unseelie soldiers to accompany her was certainly a gamble given the two’s reputation, but it was that very reputation for violence and ruin that made her choose them in the first place. After all, who better to understand the mind of a potential killer, than the court’s two most prolific?

“You live close to here, right?” She asks, bypassing any verbal greeting. “You remember anything strange last night?” 

[empressarian]

why does everyone assume that angels must have fallen? some of them might have jumped

—right out of heaven (via empressium)

[lobelianathair]

unqueensorcha‌:

Maybe its cruel of Sorcha to find the two people in the Unseelie Court she manages to care for and set them against each other. Katurian had climbed into her good graces slowly, but so seamlessly that they had often been the first person she called for in times of trouble. She could send them to go, send them to do or fetch or carry or deliver messages, and trust that they would always succeed in whatever she had asked. They were so graceful, so sharp and efficient and curious. Those keen ears, those sharp eyes. She’d grown to care for them over the years, grown to hold Katurian in high esteem, a special corner of her heart reserved for the fondness. She liked them, despite any instinct that told her she shouldn’t.

She liked Nathair more. With a possessive fire that drove her to do terrible things. She’d liked them the first moment she saw them, recognised something that made her want. Sorcha had known, those years ago, that she would not be satisfied until Nathair followed her instead of Brín. It had surprised her, after the fact, that she still wasn’t sated. She wanted more, she wanted to swallow Nathair whole sometimes. To ruin them. To be the centre of their universe. 

A child would call it love. Maybe it could be. Sorcha found it more comforting to consider them a pretty plaything. A brave knight. She could trust Nathair, she knew it in her bones. Trust them to keep keen eyes trained on her, trust them to ensure her safety in the crowds, trust them to know what to say and when to say it. If Nathair told her to jump, she’d probably do it. That’s a closely guarded secret. God forbid someone truly understand the ways they can affect her.

“And here I thought you watched me so closely.” It feels easier to take her favourite toys and make them jealous of each other, play the sweet sweet song of possession and jealousy, make them want to best each other at every turn. Keeps them sharp. The narrow of Nathair’s eyes makes her smile, just the barest hint of it. Vicious glee. It pairs well with the minute shiver that overtakes her at their gaze, the searching nature of it as they look and come away empty. There was something wild there for a moment, something that made Sorcha wonder what it would be like to be possessed, to be hunted, to be the prey of whatever wild and feral creature could lurk in the corners of Nathair’s mind. Maybe she’d feel alive, in a distant and long forgotten way. But Nathair is in more control than that, a calmer beast.

“Nothing they didn’t deserve. Pretty words. Pretty touches. Our brave emissary is so easy to please. A simple kiss would send them to the stars.” A teasing lilt to it, a tilt of her head as she considers. There hadn’t been a kiss, but the statement of it was true enough. To be graced by such a thing would have been thrilling, no doubt. “Still, they promised me something far greater than a pretty trinket in the end. I’ve been trying to think of what I’ll give them if they truly do win me the world. Something grand, don’t you think?” 

Part of her always wonders if the things people offer her are true. If someone won her the world, would they actually hand it over to her? Does she have that sway, that level of love and devotion? Katurian could very well attempt to keep it for themself if it came down to it, might try his hand at crafting themself a throne and a crown. If they tried, Nathair would fight for her. She’s sure of that. Her eyes are warm and molten from the feeling of it, from some semblance of certainty that there’s someone at her back. 

“I do, when it’s necessary,” they reply, tilting their head to the side as they gaze down at her, their eyes studying her’s with an amused satisfaction. “I guess I just assumed you trusted them enough you didn’t need me watching. If you do though, “ they pause as their lips curl into a small smirk, “I’d be happy to step up the surveillance a little more.” If they were being completely honest, they usually did keep an eye on the two of them when they were together, not because Nathair suspected Katurian capable of regicide- but more so they simply preferred to know everything that was going on. 

Of course, the real reason why they hadn’t been watching that particular conversation, was that Nathair had been hidden away, talking with the adviser of an entirely different court at the time. It wasn’t their intention to hide that fact from Sorcha, they had nothing to hide after all. Declan was just more of an odd subject between them, a ghost that they both seemed to dance around but never really address was there to begin with. His weight in their lives was significant, for two very opposing reasons, but there all the same. Neither of them were prone to sharing such emotional baggage though, both preferring to keep such pesky emotions buried than out in the open. And so his ghost remained, haunting them both separately in their own self made cages. 

“Perhaps it’s better that you string them along then,” they nod, their eyes darting from her’s down to her lips as they step another inch closer. It would have been so easy then to give into what they wanted, rather than what they knew they should do. Part of them wanted to rationalize the decision, to shrug off their responsibility and give in to the temptation. They were so far from the others after all... Lips hovering over her’s, their frame loomed over her as they stood before her. 

“Let them fight a little more for your attention, until they have nothing left to offer” they breathed. They had officially stepped into dangerous territory, should someone happen across the two of them right then, there was no explanation they could give as to the nature of the conversation other than the reality of it. But they had no plan to follow through with path they’d appeared to set themself on. As much as they wanted to do otherwise, their desire to not become a weakness of Sorcha’s for someone to exploit outweighed any other. 

Just when it seems they’re finally going to close the achingly small distance between the two of them, they glance back up at her, a devilish look in their eyes. Ducking their head to the side, their lips now hovered over her right ear. Although the distance between them is still much closer than was safe, the only part of them that touches her is their own breath against her earlobe as they whisper, “Let them promise you the world with trinkets and pretty smiles, all in order to win your favor, “ they pause, their voice even lower as they add, “but I know whose form you watch for as you stare at your bedroom window in the dead of night.” 

[lobelianathair]

katurianonyx‌:

There was a reason that they both had the positions they did, a reason that they were able to metaphorically sit on either side of Sorcha without threat of one ousting the other; they were different. Their approaches were nearly opposite when it came to how they undertook their responsibilities, their strengths complimentary, when it came down to it. Both were beneficial. He was intelligent enough to see that from the moment Nathair had come into their court, lucky as he was not to be a slave to his emotions like some other fae were. 

Friendly rivalry, that was what it was that made him poke and prod, something that came with an underlying respect and acknowledgement that he knew they were stronger working together than against one other. That would never stop his amusement, though. And he’s fairly certain that they feel much the same.

“Can’t someone want to check on their lonesome friend without ulterior motive?” Katurian asks with mock offense, putting a hand over his heart. The grin on his lips betrays amusement. “My lips are perfectly smooth, thank you for your concern, though, my dear. There’s no need for me to waste sweet words on unworthy parties when theres’s sweet wine flowing freely.”

Katurian mimics their shrug himself, looking back to the crowd.

“Nothing unexpected, I would say. Plenty of plans being hatched for the coming storm, alliances made, heads huddled together in clandestine bargaining. I wouldn’t want to bore you even further rehashing it all,” he says with a vague wave of his hand. “But don’t you worry, I’m putting in the footwork for both of us.”

“I’m trying to figure out which part of that I was supposed to take offense to- you calling me lonely, or you calling me your friend,” they reply dryly before taking another sip of their ale. Sad as it was to admit, he probably was the closest thing they had to a “friend” in the Unseelie Court. Most of the others were the violence gluttons they’d always heard about back when they were with the Seelie, too interested in fighting and fucking to worry about court politics. Katurian was different though, he had a clearer head on his shoulders, usually thought before he acted. Sure, Sorcha delighted in setting the two of them against each other, but if anything he was the most competent rival they’d had. 

“I wouldn’t beat yourself up too much,” they reply. “Drink enough of that sweet wine and I’m sure you’ll start to find plenty of suitable parties to chap those lips on.” Breaking their focus on the crowd for a moment to give him a pointed expression. 

His report was exactly as they expected it to be. Parties like these were always full of of lots of uninteresting conversation between interesting individuals. Coups weren’t plotted within a group of hundreds, but rather in small back rooms outside the wandering eyes and ears of those like their’s and Katurian’s. The only chance they had of really getting any good dirt, would be if someone made a slip up due to that night’s wine. 

“Well, once you find someone for me to hit and or kill, just let me know. Surprisingly neither has been done yet, but the night is still young I suppose.”  

[lobelianathair]

tourmalinecrown‌:

He is proud of Nathair, truly. Though he sees her so infrequently, these days, he remembers it every time that he does. Managing Sorcha is different than managing Brín, as similar at their hearts as the two may be, and he knows that Nathair’s hands-off approach serves her better with the queen than it would the prince. 

     ‘Distracted,’ he answers simply; it’s the best word he has for the multitude of things Brín is, the easiest way to express the Prince’s behavior as of late. He is in a kind of acute distress, most of the time, about the deaths in his court, those they have lost, and while he covers it, as usual, with bright laughs and loud smiles, with holding court and pretending as if he doesn’t give a care, it is easy to see in him, for those who know him. And he has been absent, more than is appropriate, running off almost nightly with that changeling masquerading as a human, irresponsibly abandoning his responsibilities for the follies of something Declan refuses to call love. It isn’t the first time Brín has let affection pull him away from court, but the last time he disappeared for years and years to watch a human grow old, his mother was still here, keeping everything running smoothly, and there wasn’t a murderer out for fae blood. ‘As he so often is.’

Still, this was what advisors were for. Brín could be distracted and Declan could keep him moving in the right direction all the same. As long as he was here, as long as he was present when he needed to be—and there were others, Brín would listen to, even when he wouldn’t listen to Declan. Ailis had been a boon, in keeping his head on straight, since she’d returned to court, and there were others he was working to recruit. 

     ‘Uncertain times are trying on us all; everyone responds differently to it. It is only my unlucky stars that mean my prince is running off to consort with changelings while your queen plans parties to gather support.’

She simply nods to his response, not being surprised in the slightest by it. For a being nearly 1,000 years old, Brin was still like a child in so many ways. When life got hard he was more prone to run and hide until it got better while the grownups sorted the mess out for him. The few fights she and Declan had almost always included Brin as a common denominator. She blamed Declan for so much of it near the end- for holding Brin’s hand too tightly, all but giving him permission to do as he pleased. The prince was a child, and how she once saw it he was going to remain as such as long as everyone took up the responsibilities he fled from. 

Time and distance have now wizened her some. Looking at Declan right then she no longer felt a resentment towards his actions, but rather a newfound understanding. Declan didn’t want Brin to fail as much as she couldn’t bare to let Sorcha. Love and loyalty bound him to Brin for better or worse, no matter how worse it did get. And could she not now say the same for herself? 

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it luck. She's done this longer, and mostly on her own,” she speaks up, can’t quite believing she was the one making an excuse for Brin. Excuse or not though, it was in fact true. Sorcha had built a better plate of armor for herself over the years, because she had to in order to survive the life that’d been given to her. 

“It does try on her though,” she confesses, lowering her voice as she does so. Talking about Sorcha like this made her feel like she was betraying her in some way, despite the fact the fae she was talking to was the Queen’s own father. Still, she knew he’d want to know. For the first time in centuries he finally had a lifeline to his daughter. She was loyal to her queen, but to him as well. “She hides it well, but it does weigh on her more than she lets on.” 

[lobelianathair]

fae-aoife‌:

This party was exhausting. Aoife hated it. She really, really hated it. Oh, it was important and necessary, but it was so distasteful. Frankly, she’d rather spend the night at Loophole – and she didn’t care for Loophole, beyond the funny little humans she could sometimes coax out of it. A few hours in, she was feeling, quite frankly, a little sulky.

Naturally, she didn’t want anyone else to know that. Canaan knew, but he knew everything about her. It was still too early to leave; Aoife didn’t trust the Seelie, and the fact that they’d allowed the Winter Court to hold a summer solstice party struck her as suspicious. But she did want to slink off into the shadows for a bit. One of the Seelie had been eyeing her, and she’d a terrible feeling they might be thinking of asking her to dance. It would be better for both of them if she left before that mistake could be made.

Aoife didn’t mind the couples fucking. It was, at least, natural, which was more than she could say for the length of time she’d spent smiling glassily at the Seelie. She wasn’t interested herself, it just seemed to be the quietest place at this party. Nobody wanted to be disturbed; the others for different reasons to Aoife, presumably. She sat in the grass, enjoying the cool touch of shadows across her skin as the moon crept its pale way towards the stars. With eyes half shut, she didn’t realise Nathair was close until they spoke.

Aoife immediately shifted a little straighter, keen to appear alert, as though she’d not just been staring aimlessly at the sky. What was Nathair doing here? Had they been patrolling? Damn – Aoife should have thought of that. They didn’t look displeased, but Aoife was displeased with herself. She hungered for Nathair’s approval; she should be taking the initiative to go above and beyond.

“Please, I’ve got some dignity. What brings you this far out? Party not to your taste?” She wanted to hear Nathair say that it wasn’t, so that she’d feel a little more vindicated in her own ill temper.

“It’s less their dignity, and more their lack of common sense I’m worried about,” Nathair sighs as they rest against a nearby tree. Eyes still scanning the area, they don’t spot any of the couples, but can still hear their muffled moans in the distance. They weren’t one to judge what others did behind closed doors, the only problem was they weren’t behind a closed door but instead in a patch of woods in the midst of a large gathering of the two courts. That fact alone would be enough for Nathair to call them stupid, but with a killer still on the loose, they wandered if some of them truly had a death wish. Fae may have been creatures led by their desires, but surely they couldn’t be so blinded to them. 

The point was a mute one of course, what’s done was done. They were very unlikely to successfully dissuade another fae from doing what came naturally to them. All they really could do was what they were doing now, keeping their ear out for any possible threats that loomed in the darkness. 

“No,” they shook their head before adding, “which isn’t a critique on the Queen’s party planning abilities, just more so my distaste for them in general.” Before Declan, back when they were still just a feral fae in the woods, they’d never even been around as much as three people at once let alone over a hundred. Much may have changed about them over the years, but they still felt every bit an alien when it came to having to socialize amongst a thick crowd. 

“I was just doing some border control, figured at least someone out here should be keeping an eye out.” Looking back down to the blonde, they remember she hadn’t yet said why she herself was there. Giving her a quick once over they see no signs in the state of her clothes that she’d been dragged out there, so she was likely there of her own accord. 

“How about you?”, they ask, tilting their head to the side as they look down at her. They may not have known Aoife well, but they knew her to be perfectly capable of handling herself. It was more curiosity that drove them into asking over her, then concern. “You taking a break from the party? Or just curious to see what you’d find out here?” 

[maurawrites]

Cara Gee as Kat Loving in ‘Strange Empire’

[lobelianathair]

unqueensorcha‌:

Her eyes are keen and sharp like weapons. She’s crafted herself well, honed every blade to a perfect point. It’s a small talent to know what people want, to glean that information off the surface and keep it for herself. Nathair is a deep well of wanting, in so many different ways. That was how Sorcha knew them best, how she had played some hand in lulling them away from the Seelie Court. Oh, she isn’t delusional enough to think it was all because of her, but the weight of her influence is there none the less. 

Nathair was an endless curiosity, back then. As enthralling to Sorcha as someone could be. All these buttons she didn’t realise people could still really press. Sorcha is still enthralled with them now, still curious and wanting and waiting to dive in more deeply. She can sense the wanting, but there’s a strength that comes out and prompts them in to hesitation. 

She lets a thoughtful noise play out, a soft little thing in the air, settling in amongst the sound of the crackling fire. “Yes, you do have that look about you. It can be off-putting.” A sigh, then, lofty and drawn out. “Well, it’s no matter. Not everyone finds danger as enticing as I do.”

And Sorcha doesn’t need Nathair to look at her. Their gaze may be fixed on the flames, but Sorcha knows where their attention is settled. If Sorcha is in a space, after all, all attention is usually on her. They’re no exception to the rule.

A dry chuckle escapes her, genuinely amused. “Darling, I think i’m made of stronger stuff than that. You’re confusing me with our dear Katurian. They’ve been enjoying the libations greatly.” Her smile turns into something savage, then. “They gave me the prettiest little gift, did you see?” 

Her gaze is a heavy one, felt even with their eyes diverted away, focused on the fire crackling in front of them and not the one burning at their side.This is precisely what they meant earlier when they told Declan they were better able to watch over Sorcha from afar. Far enough away from her, her pull on them had lost its intensity. They could better focus on the potential dangers hiding behind the Queen’s back, rather the Queen herself. Now, with her barely a feet away, they’d almost completely forgotten about the party that was still humming at the bottom of the hill. 

This was a dangerous game they were playing, although perhaps they were merely a participant in her’s. They’d fought against it in the beginning, pushing aside every carrot she dangled in front of them, knowing the only end it’d bring them was a bloody one. Carefully and steadily she wore them down, like a droplet of water carefully eroding away a piece of jagged stone. Her plays and tricks began to grow more personal, more bound to touch a nerve Nathair thought they’d either overcome or didn’t know they had in the first place. 

Somewhere along the line she’d come to know them without them ever really having to tell her a thing. It scared the living hell out of them, but more so it made them more willing to participate in the game she’d already long ago started. They had found they’d begun to like the attention she afforded to them, craved it even. After all, who else had ever paid more attention than a passing glance to the shadow that always hung behind Declan. 

The moment Katurian’s name is mentioned, they knew where she was taking it. They could almost feel her hands reach out and graze over each individual nerve she’d long ago uncovered, seeking out the one she desired. The smile they can feel radiating off of her tells them she’s found it, as she yanks at it unmercilessly with her next words. 

Possessiveness once hadn’t been a trait they carried, but they’d grown all too familiar with the beast now as it rares its ugly head. Snapping their head in her direction, their eyes reveal for a moment the wildly primal little fae Duncan had once domesticated all those years ago, eager to devour all that crossed its path. The moment soon passes, as they gain back control of their emotions, although this time they leave their gaze settled on her. 

“I didn’t,” they confess. Narrowing their eyes, they flash her a small smirk before glancing down the length of her form, curious to see if she was wearing the gift. Finding no evidence of it, they meet her gaze once more. “And what about you? Did you give them anything in return?” They ask, oddly just as curious as to whether she gave anything to them. 

[lobelianathair]

maehvc‌:

“Is that how you greet an old friend, Nathair?” Maeve spoke, tone filled with amusement, a single delicate brow arched in inquiry. To claim Nathair’s friendship was somewhat of a stretch - though the two interacted often enough in their times at the Seelie Court, respective shadows of Brín and Declan alike. It struck her then, momentarily, how this was possibly one of the few instances she got to interact with Nathair on her own, apart from anyone’s interference or scrutiny. Ah, how ironic, for they now stand on opposite sides ( for now. )

“You speak already as if I have ill intentions. Must you doubt me so?” Maeve spoke airily, flicking her hair across her shoulders, lips quirking up at the corners. Oh, she felt no offense truly, but such banter came easily to her, the teasing lilt in her tone tried and true. “I’m just here to enjoy the festivities, in celebration of the Solstice.” Her gaze flickered towards their surroundings - loud-voiced carousing, any signs of temperance and sobriety drowned in honeyed wine and reckless decisions. How fun. 

“I do not often see you in events like these.” She turned her attention back to the other Fae, eyes slowly taking her in, studying her as if she truly had never seen her until this moment. “Care to accompany me for the time being? Though I have no ill intentions, perhaps a steady hand like yours might keep me in check tonight after all.” 

“It would be my honor.” 

“Well I don’t exactly have a secret handshake I can resort to, so yes generally,” she replies dryly as her eyes dance around the crowd surrounding them. The party was meant to be a gathering of the two courts, where those from both sides could speak and make merriment freely with one another. That still didn’t put her mind at ease though when it came to conversing openly with ones she’d once called friend and not foe. It wasn’t that she thought Sorcha would so readily doubt her true allegiance, but the other Unseelie were a different matter entirely. 

“It’s not doubt if I already know it to be true,” she replies, casting a faint smirk in her direction before glancing away again. She didn’t necessarily suspect her of anything too nefarious, but she also knew better than to underestimate the girl. Nathair had spent enough time around her to know here was more going on behind those doe eyes, than most gave her credit for. 

“That’s because I usually make a point not to come to them.” Following her gaze, Nathair subconsciously tugs at the black coat that was nearly a permanent fixture to her ensemble. She had made some effort to clean it, the brass buttons shone a little brighter, and the dark wool was easily three shades darker than usual, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb against the sea of lavish silks and satin. “I can for a little while,” she nods, as she takes note of the crowd once more. No eyes seemed to have noticed them, and those that did quickly moved on to something more interesting. They were safe for now, but she wasn’t willing to tempt fate for too long. 

“I’m assuming Brin has since left you to fend for yourself?” She asks, still curious for news from her old life. Clasping her hands behind her back, she moves in the direction of a less crowded area of the party, figuring that would be the safer bet for now. 

[irisharchaeology]

A magnificent old beech tree surrounded by wild garlic in Wexford, Ireland. Hollow inside, it must be a couple of 100 years old

[lobelianathair]

tourmalinecrown‌:

He had been wondering when Nathair would find him. 

The ruse of their parting had made his conversations with her few and far between in the years that had passed since she had studied at his side. It would have been inappropriate, for his role, for him to have openly shown the relief he felt knowing that she would be at Sorcha’s side now—and that Sorcha would be at hears. Relief, and joy, and hope that the spread of like-minded individuals like him, who held little value in the artificial separation of their kind into two, holding positions of power, might help them move towards some kind of healing. Nathair had been sharp, and quick, and focused; by the time she left the Seelie court she had rivaled him easily in her ability, if not yet in her ambition. And she had known, from her years wild and free, like him, that the only value the courts had was community, that their rules and divisions weren’t keeping anyone safe. 

The ladybird found him at Brín’s side, but he quickly made his excuses—not that the Prince would have noticed, likely, had he simply stepped away. The small beetle resting, still, on his fingertips until he wound his way through the crowd to where it had come from and found Nathair waiting there for him and it opened its wings once more and fluttered away. 

      ‘Happy solstice,’ he greeted them, warmer than his usual tone if not as overly-familiar as he once might have been. ‘Interesting place, for an advisor to be, sitting on the sidelines. Where’s your Queen, then? In the bushes?’

Seeing that he’d received her message, she slipped a few steps further into the shadow. There were plenty of Seelie and Unseelie socializing out in the open for all eyes to see, but her and Declan had no longer become just any fae from two rivaling courts. Their shared history was a well known one, and the division that now separated them even more so. Should any one see the two of them together carrying on like all was well, suspicions would definitely be raised on both their accounts. 

Resting her back against the nearest tree, she waited quietly until she saw her mentor’s familar form emerge, freeing the small beetle back into the world. She has to fight off the urge to embrace him, which she found odd given the fact she could hardly think of a time she’d done it before. When she left the Seelie, she knew the hardest part would be leaving him behind, but knowing it didn’t make feeling it any easier. 

Guilt soon eclipses all other emotions though, the moment he mentions her queen. He’s right of course, this is the last place she should be, chasing memories within the shadows. She should be doing what he’d asked her to do the last time they had a moment to themselves- watching over Sorcha. 

“Probably not for a few more hours yet,” she chuckles with a shake of her head, hoping she was managing to hide the swirl of thoughts racing through her mind. “She’s back at the party, talking with Katurian though,” she adds, joking aside she wanted him to know she had been doing what he’d asked her to do. Sorcha was generally much easier to watch over from a distance, where she was far enough away not to distract her from her duty, but close enough she could intervene should something go wrong.  

“Speaking of passing out in bushes, how’s Brin?” she asks, curiosity getting the better of her. Her relationship with her former prince may have been a strained one at the least, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d been fairing during the chaos that was the last couple weeks.