mysticcls

fantasy & dark romantasy indie rp blog, 25+ mun, semi-selective

[mysticcls]

𝓂𝓎𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒸𝓁𝓈 / original characters, multimuse, fantasy-based / semi selective / discord & dash friendly! inked by 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙. slow activity. mun is 30+. they/them.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ a study in . . . princes who wear crowns barbed with thorns, the wreckage & ruins of loving the wrong person, ancient curses & secret spells & malicious poisons, forgotten goddesses & selfish gods, bloodlines cursed and mates fated by destiny's own hand, velveteen nights coated in sweet lies, quiet obsession that only knows to consume, monsters so beautiful your heart has no choice but to tremble &&& break. ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

carrd. .✦ ݁˖ wishlist. .✦ ݁˖ memes. .✦ ݁˖ starters.

graphic cred. to sevenrph && @bornofthedawn. test muses under the cut.

xuanye - another spirit from the losian forest, a friend of hui xian and meigui. they are a manifestation of the forest itself, one of it's living, breathing parts. known as the lantern bearer, they guide mortals astray, and lead souls through the winding, twisting paths of the forest. many of the monsters within the forest will strike deals with them to barter for the best souls, and blood coats every part of their hands. fc: tba/accepting suggestions

yuekong - it has been decades since they traded their mortality for virtue. forever vowed to be a loyal disciple of 紫霄观 ( the violet sky temple ), they join a dozen others in maintaining the temple, practicing rites and rituals, and occasionally venturing down into the lower realms to gain knowledge and insight. yuekong has sworn his heart, body, and soul to the goddess patron 紫云天后 ( heavenly empress of violet clouds ) which they realize now is a condemnation for a lifetime of loneliness. they were only 24 when they took the passage rites for immortality and wed the goddess in heart and soul, but his mind wanders. the second youngest of 7 competitive siblings, he had always been afraid to speak up about his secret power of communicating and understanding dragons. instead, he keeps this ability secret, and helps tame the dragons around the temple, preferring to sleep with them outside under the stars. fc: cheng yi

[mysticcls]

hi guys!! i will be attending to my drafts slowly over the next couple of days. some muse has returned!! ♡♡

[mysticcls]

@rosesonbreeze -> 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒!

it was too late for any respectable reason for a visit, with the moon high and tian feng cloaked in all black as he skulked behind the bamboo screens. he'd waited, he'd watched, and the whole time his heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.

her name had finally appeared. midori, listed for death. the bounty for her removal enough to make a commoner feel like a king - not that tian feng cared for the money. or even, uncomfortably, the honor of it. or what he'd been taught was honor. now, he wasn't sure. only that war was coming, and the battlefield called once more.

tian feng didn't want to heed it's cry, and for the first time in his life, he hid there in the dark with fluttering heartbeats as he contemplated defiance instead of cold duty. when he sprung on her, the captain was sure not to hesitate, to seize the opportunity and be quick. he knew her tells, her schedule, the way her jaw would tick when she lied, and how she always kept an extra knife on her when alone. he could see the bulge of it under the stars, and knew the time was right.

silver pressed against her throat, another held with the tip pointed up into her sternum, and the wall was quick to come behind her before they both toppled over. the moment stretched in the dark, just eyes glittering from distant candlelight at one another, for a few tense, palpable seconds. she'd be dead, if he wanted her to be.

" marry me, midori. "

[runningmunson]

Ewan Mitchell as Aemond Targaryen in the House of The Dragon season 3 trailer

[slashcrz]

little update! i got a promotion at work which means my work schedule has changed. i now work early in the morning and have to adjust to that schedule. it is also summer now!!! and i have my kids full time when i am not at work, so. i may be a little slower as i get used to everything / might be dropping a few threads when i have the chance to sit down and review my drafts. xoxo thanks for your patience!

[mysticcls]

sorry all - still here!! hoping to be able to do some replies tomorrow!!

[mythshire]

°✧*:·゚  𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘 ··· a collection of regency drama, forbidden desire, reputation & ruin, propriety abandoned sentence starters. genre: historical romance, angst, scandal, duty versus heart.

You've been seen. We've been seen. Do you understand what that means?

I cannot marry you. My father has already promised me to someone else.

The ton is calling you ruined. What were you thinking, being alone with them?

You dance beautifully. Pity this will be the only waltz society allows us.

I saw you in the garden with Lord/Lady [Name]. Does your betrothed know?

Take off your gloves. Let me see your hands properly, just once.

The wedding banns have already been read. It's too late to change your mind now.

You've been compromised. I'm afraid I must insist on doing the honorable thing.

Mama says I'm not to speak with you anymore. She says you're a rake/ruined.

How dare you show your face here after what you did to my family's name.

I received your letter. I burned it, as I should have burned all the others.

The Queen has struck you from her list. You'll never receive a royal invitation again.

You think a country dance means I've forgiven you? How naive.

I don't care what the marriage contract says. I will never share your bed.

Your reputation precedes you. They say you've left a trail of broken hearts.

I saw the way you looked at them during the musicale. You're not as subtle as you think.

My dowry has been withdrawn. I bring nothing to this marriage now but scandal.

You were supposed to be my friend. Instead, you told everyone my secret.

The modiste sent your measurements to the wrong household. The entire club is laughing.

I cannot be seen arriving with you. Meet me by the rose garden in one hour.

Your brother challenged mine to a duel. Over me. What have we done?

I am with child. Unmarried. Do you comprehend the gravity of this?

They're calling me a fortune hunter in the scandal sheets.

You must marry someone suitable. I am neither titled nor wealthy enough for your family.

I heard the whispers. They think we're having an affair.

The settlement papers are drawn. Sign them and this farce of a betrothal ends.

You've had three seasons and not one acceptable proposal. Mama is beside herself.

I saw you leaving the library together. Was the door locked?

Your name is attached to mine in today's Whistledown. We're ruined.

I don't love you. I don't even particularly like you. But I need your name.

The Duke/Duchess has withdrawn their support of your debut. You're finished.

You kissed me in front of the entire garden party. What were you thinking?

I will not be your mistress, no matter how persuasive your arguments.

My chaperone fell asleep. We have perhaps ten minutes before she wakes.

You've been courting my sister while writing me poetry. Which of us do you actually want?

The marriage mart is closed to you now. No respectable family will receive you.

I found your love letters. Hidden in a book of sermons, of all places.

You're engaged to be married in a fortnight. Why are you in my chambers?

The scandal has reached the Queen. She's demanding an audience.

I cannot give you an heir. The physician confirmed it this morning.

Your gambling debts have bankrupted the estate. We've lost everything.

I saw you at that club. The one respectable gentlemen/ladies don't speak of.

You must choose—your family's approval or your heart's desire.

The wedding is tomorrow. Tell me now if you're going to flee.

I heard you refused three proposals this season. Are you waiting for someone?

Your mourning period isn't even over and already you're entertaining suitors.

The settlement requires an heir within two years. That's all this marriage is.

I found the annulment papers in your desk. You've been planning this all along.

They're saying you bought your title. That your wealth comes from trade.

I will not be paraded around ballrooms like a prized mare at auction.

[antoniettabrandeisova]

Still Life with Roses and Decorative Elephant (detail), Marie Nyl-Frosch 

[mysticcls]

𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 - currently accepting!

@tiantangs sent -> ❝ THE  STAR:  A  lake  under  a  blanket  of  stars. ❞

on starlight itself, yuekong descended from the skies in the silence of the clear night. nothing but the thin mist that rose from the shore unsettled the water, a slowly rippling mirror of the star-speckled heavens. the citrusy tang of the meyer lemon bit the discipline's nose as they breathed in deeply, letting the scent and sounds of earth act as a soothing balm to aching nerves. against the tree line, the large white bulbous blossoms of the magnolia trees looked like little ghosts bobbing in the breeze, and yuekong smiled with outstretched hands and half-lidded eyes. they basked in the wonder of it all for a moment longer before getting to work.

in their satchel on their back, he brought with him various summoning and attracting materials. glass jars of salt, clay pots of incense and ashes, and an ornate hand-carved totem were carefully arranged in a large circle. there were other offerings, too. yuekong brought anything they hoped may attract a demon powerful enough for his requests. the most important offering, the ingredient that everything rested on, was their blood. so yuekong took the mirrored blade, and pressed it without hesitation deep into his palm. this would need a lot of blood.

ignoring the pain, yuekong drew half a dozen characters in dripping crimson, hoping it would be enough.

[gildedenvy]

the   laugh   catches   her   off   guard.   not   merely   the   sound   of   it,   though   that   surprises   her   too.   it   slips   out   of   him   low   and   unguarded,   rough   at   the   edges   like   something   real   escaping   before   he   had   the   chance   to   decide   whether   to   permit   it.   not   polished   or   measured   or   one   of   the   many   carefully   arranged   expressions   she   has   spent   the   last   six   weeks   learning   to   decipher   in   this   place   where   every   smile   seems   sharpened   for   political   use   and   every   silence   feels   choreographed.   amusement.   genuine.   aahna   knows   the   difference   now.   she   has   learned   this   court   the   way   one   learns   a   foreign   language.   by   immersion   and   observation   and   surviving   enough   mistakes   to   recognize   the   dangerous   ones   before   they   arrive.   she   has   learned   the   chamberlain’s   false   warmth   and   the   queensmother’s   elegant   cruelty   and   the   subtle,   shifting   architecture   of   conversations   built   to   mean   three   things   at   once.   she   has   learned   performance   but   this   was   not   performance.   this   man,   her   husband,   in   title   if   little   else,   actually   found   her   funny.   the   realization   lands   harder   than   the   knife   ever   could.   because   this   is   the   same   man   who   barely   looked   at   her   when   she   first   crossed   the   sea   into   his   country.   the   one   she   has   watched   from   across   long   halls   and   candlelit   banquets   and   council   chambers   thick   with   strategy.   a   warrior   king   assembled   piece   by   piece   from   distance   and   rumor   and   observation   until   she   thought   she   understood   the   shape   of   him.   she   finds   herself   revising,   rapidly.   like   a   student   whose   cheat   sheet   was   suddenly   found   lacking   during   test   day.   chocolate   hues   stare   at   him.   the   words   settling   strangely   between   them.   she   is   still   flat   on   her   back   in   his   bed.   tangled   in   sheets   she   did   not   intend   to   touch   tonight.

her   bodice   twisted   half   crooked   from   the   struggle.   hair   spilled   loose   around   her   shoulders   and   across   his   pillows   like   evidence   she   has   somehow   lost   control   of   herself   in   more   ways   than   one.   four   days.   four   days   of   planning.   of   refining   and   recalibrating   and   mapping   routes   through   corridors   and   rehearsing   what   she   would   say   when   she   finally   cornered   him   into   listening.   all   of   it   deposited   her   here.   a   knife   still   in   hand.   a   king   sitting   back   on   his   heels   above   her.   and   his   gaze   fixed   on   her   with   the   kind   of   attention   reserved   for   difficult   puzzles   and   battlefield   maps.   “i   didn’t,”   the   words   catch.   she   starts   again.   “i   wasn’t   certain   you’d   listen.”   quiet.   honest   enough   to   sting.   no   apology.   not   even   an   accusation   really.   just   truth,   stripped   bare   because   there   is   very   little   dignity   left   in   pretending   otherwise   while   lying   on   her   back   with   a   blade   she   is   no   longer   particularly   threatening   anyone   with.   for   a   long   second   neither   of   them   moves.   then   aahna   sits   up.   slowly,   carefully.   still   cataloging   with   the   same   instinctive   precision   she   observes   every   political   shift   and   dangerous   silence.   the   allowance   of   movement.   the   lack   of   resistance.   the   simple   fact   that   if   he   wanted   her   pinned,   she   would   still   be   pinned.   the   knife   lowers   into   her   lap.   she   cannot   quite   bring   herself   to   set   it   aside.   cannot   quite   surrender   the   weight   of   it.   but   intention   drains   out   of   her   grip   all   the   same   until   it   becomes   less   a   weapon   and   more   an   object   she   happens   to   be   carrying.   her   free   hand   lifts   to   sweep   hair   from   her   face.   a   practical   gesture.   also   three   seconds   of   borrowed   time.   enough   to   look   at   him   properly.   valor.   king.   warrior.   the   name   spoken   through   these   halls   like   weather.   inevitable   and   powerful   and   requiring   preparation   before   arrival.

“you’ve   been   absent,”   she   says   at   last.   “since   we   arrived.”   her   eyes   hold   his.   “your   court   speaks   for   you.   your   chamberlain   speaks   for   you.   everyone   seems   to   have   a   very   clear   opinion   about   what   this   marriage   should   look   like   and   what   role   i’m   meant   to   play   in   it.”   her   jaw   shifts   faintly.   “and   none   of   them   have   asked   me   anything.”   the   frustration   in   the   words   arrives   quieter   than   anger.   something   colder.   more   precise.   she   watches   him   carefully.   “so   i   didn’t   know   what   you   wanted.”   a   breath.   small.   controlled.   “i   didn’t   know   whether   you   were   going   to   be   a   problem   i   needed   to   solve   or,”   the   word   dies   before   she   can   finish   it.   or   something   else.   someone   worth   trusting,   she   might   eventually   choose.   aahna   does   not   let   herself   say   any   of   those   things.   instead   her   thumb   drifts   along   the   flat   of   the   blade   resting   across   her   lap,   familiar   steel   beneath   skin.   a   nervous   habit   disguised   as   practicality.   something   to   occupy   her   hands   while   her   thoughts   race   faster   than   language.   “i   want   to   know   what   you   expect   of   me.”   the   room   feels   strangely   still.   fire   crackling   low   in   the   hearth.   moonlight   pale   against   stone.   the   faint   rustle   of   fabric   every   time   either   of   them   shifts.   and   aahna   lifts   her   eyes   to   his   and   stays   there.   steady.   unguarded   in   a   way   she   has   not   allowed   herself   since   crossing   the   border.   “i   want   to   know   who   i’m   actually   dealing   with.”   then   something   almost   wry   touches   her   mouth.   brief   enough   she   could   deny   it.   “i   would   have   asked.”   the   knife   lifts   slightly   between   them.   a   subtle   acknowledgment.   dry   humor   wrapped   around   a   weapon   she   still   refuses   to   relinquish.   “eventually.”   her   gaze   flicks   from   the   blade   back   to   him.   the   faintest   tilt   of   her   chin.   “the   threat   was   simply   faster.”

[mysticcls]

she was beautiful. he hadn't quite noticed it until now, as she pulled herself from him and sat up. there were flecks of golden honey in her eyes, when they fluttered to land on his for a split second. as she spoke of his weeks of absence, and how it appeared to her outside eyes, his stomach churned, and a frown formed.

valor was never supposed to be king. he'd never wanted to be, either. just a bastard son, forgotten and raised well away from the palace. maybe he'd have picked up a trade, if he hadn't of picked up a sword first. maybe he would be artisan now, with a wife and children already nestled away at home. maybe then, he'd be happy. " they don't tend to ask me much of anything i'd want either, if it's of any consolation. "

but this wasn't a land of imagination, it was a realm of brutal reality. the thawing war put a strain on everyone, and valor handled it worse than some. the pressures of the crown, especially returning from some time away, often made valor wish he could take sick to his bed most days and avoid the whole court. he never did, though. so his kingdom rebuilt, and survived, and worshipped the generous throne moreso than any predecessor. valor, though not raised for it, made an excellent king. it came, apparently, at the cost of being a decent husband.

aahna looked smaller now, without her teeth bared and knife against his throat. " your questions are fair and well overdue. maybe if i hadn't had my life threatened minutes earlier, i'd apologize for my delay. " his eyes shone with that gleam of amusement, but he didn't speak for a long moment. instead, studied her curiously, taking the time to see her now. and to realize what she was to him, what they were. of course he understood on paper, the legality of it, but now that they were close enough he could smell distant florals on her... valor really understood.

" you are dealing with a king who expects little. i desire your happiness, and you are welcome to matters of the court if you desire to meddle with them. in honesty, i care little what you do, so consider the palace your playground. just stay loyal, and you will have no issue from me. " but there was more, and it hung there on the air between them like a held breath, waiting to exhale. " and... " his eyes held hers. " i do expect for us to have a child. ideally two or three or four. "

[chenfordsbee]

“The two of them almost bagged a stag on our trip to the country.”

[zinhuan]

muse: shen hanyan (she/her, former physician, current demon possessed physician ig - please read pinned post) open: anyone (m if romantic) preferably fantasy/supernatural coded? setting: historical / ancient china & fantasy / supernatural / xianxia maybe plot: when she dies from exhaustion after desperately trying to save a dying patient aka y/m, her weakened, fading soul becomes an accidental vessel for a wandering demon seeking refuge just as her heart stops. and when it starts again, she is no longer the physician who's tried to save y/m's life, as she is now complying to the demon's wishes, including feeding on mortals' souls. feeling a sense of responsibility, now y/m is the one who tries to save her

the annoyance that arises in shen hanyan is undeniable when she senses the other has found her again — likely having tracked her down after she sneaks out of their temporary residence. she forces herself to pause, exhales slowly, then turns. by the time she faces them, her expression has shifted into something soft, innocent. "couldn't a lady go anywhere on her own now?" she asks, tilting her head as she feigns defeat. her tone is light, teasing even. but they both know why the other is wary. after all, she needs to feed on souls to keep her lifeforce intact.

[mysticcls]

someone had cursed the fates against him, luochen was sure. how could the irony exist without foul play that the man blessed with the power to hunt demons was haunted by one himself? one he cannot bring himself to harm, one he cannot bring himself to capture. one who is deserved her freedom, a demon to which he owes his life. even if the deeds were committed by a mortal girl he isn't sure is real anymore.

there was a healer in there. a soul so dedicated to her work she would give her life willingly for a stranger. it was his fault she was cursed to be tethered to a creature of hell.

" you know i will never be far behind you. " he answered, arms crossing and sighing deeply. they played this game, danced these steps, and followed this script every damn time.

[sundersfate]

if only it were as simple and easy as tianfeng made it sound.

all at once, méiyǔ saw why she'd been chosen for this arrangement: an ill-favored concubine given to an embittered prince. just another in a long list of slights she was sure they both had suffered. within the silken sleeves of her robe, méiyǔ's hands tightened into fists, her nails digging so deep into her palms that they drew blood, her humiliation palpable.

"why do you think you're the only one dying in this court?" she asked, a wan smile showing itself. a breeze passed through the courtyard, making her hanfu dance around her body. she began to pace slowly in a short circuit, her movements delicate but precise: the only sign of her agitation, not towards tianfeng, but at the situation.

she'd heard whispers about him, of course: the eldest son overlooked in favor for another, disinherited from the throne and forced to show his worth. she'd always felt empathy for him as well as a level of kinship, though they had never met. she, too, had been victim to the fickleness of the court, to the manipulations and machinations of others. too many allowed themselves to be swayed by the opinions of others, and ruined lives in the wake of it.

"if i turn this down, i condemn myself to an eternity of languishing where i'm neither wanted nor safe, unable to leave or see my family. i'd rather face down your enemies on the front than that fate."

pausing in her step, méiyǔ turned to finally meet tianfeng's dark gaze, assessing him with her own. he was tall and handsome, almost in spite of the fatigue that hung over him like a cloud. it was clear he was trying to scare her off with these warnings; unfortunately for him, she'd stopped being frightened a long time ago.

"your father thinks to slight you by sending one of his unwanted concubine. i know my worth and i need a way out, so perhaps we can be of some use to each other."

[mysticcls]

" you think here you might be wanted? " the sneer left him before tianfeng had a chance to stop it, reacting to the amounting pressure on her shoulders as she spoke. send her a damsel in distress, another person to disappoint, another cage to suffer. it wasn't her fault, but she was here, and she was unfortunately in the crosshairs of his rage.

guilt was an immediate pang, a piercing arrow to the heart, when she mentioned him. his father. the man who had, somehow, made them both feel as small as grains of rice. or was it just him? because she stood tall in front of him, unyielding to his misery. like there was some fire that still crackled in her heart, a flame not yet snuffed out by the whims of the emperor.

" oh. i see. " he breathed out, lips pulled tight and his eyes lowered in regret. how cruel now it seemed, to intentionally try and push her away. telling her she'd never be wanted here, either. that because of his father, maybe nowhere would ever be safe again. it wasn't what he said, but it had echoed in the words that were muttered. he knew it, because he lived it, too.

even if he felt bad, he wouldn't cower. curious, and trying to feign that he hadn't entirely given up and accepted whatever fucked up fate his father threw his way, the prince nodded slowly. " you have my attention. "

[sundersfate]

it wasn't often that a mortal found themselves amongst the fae folk, let alone invited to a lavish party thrown by the royal family. this moment had been borne of a lot of work behind the scenes. starting with a missive from king emich lorraine of the mortal realm to queen mab, ruler of the winter court. then there'd been the months of careful negotiation, punctuated with agreements and concessions on both sides. if josefina devereaux, high advisor to the king, was anything else, it was shrewd. she'd made sure to have it in writing that pasha wouldn't fall victim to any trickery, that her name was to remain hers and that the food given must be enchantment-free.

the invitation came as an olive branch from the winter court, symbolizing a concord being reached.

and so, laden with gifts for the royal family and a list of dos and do-nots, pasha was sent to the lands of the winter court as the emissary of the human king to continue building the alliance between the two kingdoms.

underneath a black velvet, fur-lined cloak, a strapless, dark blue dress shimmered under the chandeliers, the skirt swirling around her feet. a smile graced her features underneath a black lace fox mask, belying the fatigue she felt deep down. it'd been a long night of dancing, making sure she wasn't accepting any gifts without anything in return, and choosing her words carefully while still being gracious. pasha had always been a social butterfly, able to make the most of any gathering, but the novelty of being a human amongst the unseelie had quickly lost its excitement. everywhere she went, eyes followed and others vied for her attention with lechery on the mind; she'd hit the dance floor so many times that the faery steps were becoming muscle memory.

hearing her name, pasha turned towards the figure in the raven mask, taking a moment to stare into dark blue eyes before she flashed him an inviting smile. after all, she was still a guest and the fae could be fickle: turning him down could have consequences, regardless of tact. and besides, he was the only one out of many who hadn't immediately tried to corner her the second she'd gotten within his line of sight, and seemed to want her to enjoy herself. maybe that said something, maybe it meant nothing at all. she'd take it nonetheless.

"a dance for you and the pleasure of your company for me." quid pro quo, as it were. nothing was free in this world.

pasha dipped into a curtsy, the low neckline of her dress revealing soft, dark skin, and took the man's hand. almost immediately, a pulse of magic swept over her, the taste of it on her tongue reminding her of a crisp winter morning when the snow is still beautiful and untouched.

curious. the fae had their own brand of enchantments, but this was different from what she'd detected throughout the night. in so many ways, it reminded her of her own. all at once, pasha's fatigue melted away, her interest piqued at the mystery presented before her. pasha placed a delicate hand on the stranger's shoulder and let him lead her into the dance.

"it seems you know my name, but i haven't had a chance to hear yours. with whom do i have the pleasure of dancing?"

[mysticcls]

the faery folk thrived during a good party. when drink flowed free and the tables stayed piled high and the music never wavered, the folk could go well on into the morning if left unchecked. the stamina of such frost beasts was built from eternal winter, skin leathered and thick against the cold. lesser fae with gnarled faces mingling about the high fae, with their angular, long lines and delicate limbs. lines blurred when the frost palace opened for a gala. when masks came on, the rules turned off, and titles fell to the wayside.

here, tonight, the faery folk were gathered as one. and when a kind comes together as such, the outlier becomes the main point of attraction. peace treaty be damned, court was as overjoyed with the prospect of their human guest as it had been about the prospect of pending war. all but drooling to get a moment of her time, fighting to claw back into her eyeline, and yet caspian strode up like it was his place to do.

like her hand was always meant to find it's way into his that night. it was, after all, his scheme from the beginning.

yet he, too, was clever and cunning and quick. a woman wise enough to hold high advisor would be informed enough to well warn her daughter away from the royal fae. a twisted, wicked, cruel bunch, led by the maddest of them all in all her fading bitter glory. terror followed their names through the whispers of lesser fae, even as they gazed with hungry ambition to find favor within the frost crown.

all faery politics were here in the unseelie court was games. silly, trivial, competitive little games. entertainment was far to come by in the white blight against the realm, an outcropping of stone-carved, snowcapped blizzards. the castle became stage to a host of political performances and endeavors, each one as meddlesome and self-serving as the last. no wonder pasha was so careful - it would be her death, not to be, he was sure.

if she sensed his magic, one that came from blood instead of taught knowledge of enchantment spell work, she gave no hint towards it, and caspian's shoulders relaxed. of course a human wouldn't be able to detect such complex forms of sorcery. " my name is jack. " blue-tinted lips enchanted dusty pink twitched into a smirk. he knew of the human fable of jack frost, and found himself all too clever for inserting the reference here. prince of frost, jack frost. they even sounded well on the tongue. maybe caspian had been misnamed.

" and, lady pasha, please don't be alarmed, but everyone here knows your name. " caspian's voice dropped conspiratorially low. " they're taking bets on who gets to mark your dance card tonight. " he stepped in slightly, slowly pulling his hair over a shoulder as he spoke. " do you want to make some rich faeries cry their money? "

[and-my-sword]

a princess who only has her hands to entertain herself in the night and the knight who shares a bedroom wall with her and is being tested by god

[mysticcls]

i'll try to make my way over here for replies tonight ♡♡

[okultists]

hui xian's delight unsteadies the maiden, frightens an instinct woven deep into bone and flesh, an ancient understanding about spirits and what danger they promise. a shiver crawls up mingyi's spine, like a spectre reaching out a finger to trail upward, but she maintains a brave face through careful deliberation. moonlight catches her earrings, sparkling with luminescence, vibrant petals linger on her person. not quite the otherworldly beauty hui xian embodies. she lingers on the fox's canines, a sliver from the very moon that hangs above them. "the purpose of my journey is to win your approval, isn't it?" there's a twinge of sarcasm, but she's mostly truthful. it would be especially unwise to offend a fox spirit. the comment on their arrogance was merely a slip of her tongue and she's relieved it was taken in pleasant humour. it's like the aurora around hui xian touches them in a light unlike any known celestial source — mingyi's not certain if she imagines the almost prismatic glow from their robes, but it's wondrous.

in nature's absence she stills, holding her breath with the forest and straining to listen for something — anything, beyond the mechanical beating of her own heart and whispers rising from the sword, like a snake's hiss, only available in the back of mingyi's mind. the forest's collective pause is unsettling for a multitude of reasons. "are you doing this?" she's disoriented, chancing an uneasy glance around the landscape as the fox stalks onward. "i'm disappointed, then. it's beyond a mortal's measure to eliminate a curse, but i seem to have held the spirits in a regard that's much too high for them. i've heard tales about how powerful they are, how they can manipulate nature on a whim and change the fabric of reality. i can see now that my hope was misplaced — the spirits cannot aid me, if they cannot completely destroy this curse."

it was the maiden's misunderstanding. the sword was not a curse, nor could such a foul artifact even be compared as such: it's a fragment of something more powerful. history soaked in rage, and crimson, and ash. mingyi believes it's a curse, but it's so much more. she crosses her arms, lavender hues meeting obsidian. "if a spirit ever made a deal that hasn't served to benefit them, it's never been spoken of, because i've never heard it. they always want something. don't act modest. if we're going to do this, i want your word that you'll do everything in your power to whittle this curse down, the closest down to nothing you can get—" mingyi's eyes are pleading. "—i'll agree to your terms, once i have your word."

mingyi flinches when hui xian touches her adornments, merely from surprise, then stands still once she realizes what they're doing. it's a thoughtful gesture, she would like to assume, but now her cheeks burn with a touch of embarrassment. the contrast from before and after makes the maiden overly aware to how filthy she looks. "i appreciate that," she mutters and grabs her skirt, turning it over to admire how clean it now looks — like it's been freshly made, never worn in the first place. hui xian's hair catches her eye, silver or pure white depending on how the moonlight came upon it, fresh snowfall upon the earth. it reminds her of home and it's extended, almost eternal, winters. how the sword was concealed in a thick layer of snow before she discovered it and inadvertently cursed herself with a mere touch. the fox's tresses seem smooth and soft, and she has to fight the urge to reach out and fiddle with them. mingyi braves a deep sigh and wanders away from hui xian a little, tilting her head skyward. "the person i'm saving is myself. so yes, i could live with it." she looks at them now, "indulge a mortal's curiosity. what's so appealing about seity?"

[mysticcls]

there was a ripple of sound again as the spirit frowned, tails twitching in a fluttering around them. overestimating spirits and placing them on the pedestal of godhood was one of the more common mistakes mortals brought into the losian forest. the second, was misunderstanding that the help a spritit can offer is often just as helpful, if not more, than their original request of impossible proportions.

" yes, perhaps a god could unweave a curse, and make it cease to exist, i suppose. but why would that be what you desire? there is power to be found in wielding dark spells. good to be rid of, but better to use as a weapon. is it not? " their eyes glinted on the sword, straining to listen for any murmurs of it's magic. it didn't smell cursed. she must be carrying it around so gingerly for another reason. or this was very advanced magic at play to leave without a trace.

selfish souls were the most likely to achieve power, the spirit had come to learn. hui xian smiled, a wicked sight, twisted into fangs and cracked lips and needled edges gleaming under the wintery moon. " i will do what you ask, and more. you will need to tell me all you can about the curse, and how it came to be. knowledge is everything, pet. it's how to achieve in life. and it take strength to take it, but even better when given freely. "

they smirked. " the more important the knowledge, the better. even something like your favorite color is intimate, personal, reflective of your being. even seity as small as that is invaluable in the scheme of the universe. "

though it wasn't favorite colors they were after. tight lipped, vague, and curious - it mattered more when you were afraid of what you'd lose. those emotions, swirling up, fear and wonder and something else. it fed the forest. it fed them, all the creatures within. the fox spirit sighed, and tilted their head. " but what is seity to you if your curse kills you first? "