maelstrom-calâ:
âWhen weâre young and reckless itâs nearly all we do.â He spoke without tone, something distant in both the words and his gaze while he stared into the depths of those pools such a shallow comparison to the endless deep of his ocean home. In darkest places, endlessly downward, his kind kept their secrets and pretended that they were too alien for the likes of those upon land. Just as those among the clouds were too lofty, the summer sun too scorching for others and the touch of winter too strong for those not of itsâ blood. And it meant nothing, split the skin and they all emptied themselves out with the same crimson. He tipped a glance to the owner of the voice in all her shimmering glory and sunlight shine, impossible to mistake one Court for another and she was a sliver of the summer. He envied them in that strange place that whispered of memories robbed from him in the back of his mind, because he had always looked to the light even as the sea flowed within him. In that place between Cal had dwelt watching one and finding comfort in the other. Still, they caught him off guard at times, the terrible loveliness of the summer children.Â
And now, even more, he understood how sharp their claws were, how powerful their rage and hunger when wronged. It evoked a mild terror, left him wondering if war were to spring forth how he would counter the fury of those he would have to stand against from that brightly burning Court.Â
That was not a though he cared to linger in, but it would not leave him easily. Her words took him by surprise, struck up a startling little swell of gratitude over such a simple expression so close to his own feelings at the time. He barely caught himself from agreeing too swiftly, because to voice that he was so weary of the bloodshed was hardly fitting for his position and, miserable as it was, it was more important than ever that he tried to reflect what he was meant to from his Court. Weaknesses would be exploited and Cal knew his own would carry repercussions if he didnât keep up that illusion of distance the Undersea held as a shield towards others. He couldnât choke them fully down, caught at the back of his throat, he coughed and shook his head to tug some resolve back together.Â
âThey wonât give you answers,â he finally spoke with a bare lift of his chin to chance a glance at the stars as she did as well; he had never held any faith in them. Had admired their beauty and the wonder of their presence but guidance? Where so many had turned to such things Cal had never been granted it; his path had not been set in front of him by charts and secrets the skies held but by the word of a Queen he still held a hint of fear of when she grew as angry as a hurricane. âThey wonât do anything but shine,â Cal added with a trailing wistfulness of that lost beauty on his tongue, âand at this rate laugh at us, Iâd imagine.â How he missed the glow of them, wondering when he would be able to see it once again, when it would be a welcome glimmer rather than only observation of the scurrying creatures below them.
Aurelia hummed in acknowledgement of his answer, having expected as much from an Undersea fae. All the courts had their secrets, but none quite interested her like the fae of the sea - each as mysterious as the abyss they called home. While the sun favored her brethren, the moon favored his. The decades of luring members of the Undersea Court under the false lure of her revels had proved useful, but not effective enough for her liking. With each layer she unwrapped about the sea, another appeared to greet her. One day, she would have the answers she sought. If her hunger for knowledge could ever be satisfied.Â
âWhen have they ever?â she countered drily with an arched eyebrow, slightly amused by his comment. Besides admiring their beauty, Aurelia didnât share her kindâs reverence for the stars. As a young fae, she was taught by the court instructors to identify the great fae of legend whose glory earned them a new home in the sky. Her former instructors would have her head if they heard her expressed disbelief in them, but the fae had turned her back on the stars for over two centuries now. The memory still made her ache, remembering the naive child on the eve of adulthood who still managed to act childish in the end. âI imagine we are all inconsequential in the grand scheme of life in their eyes,â she confessed, her eyes tracing out a constellation from memory. She was taught to find beauty and strength in their light, itâs what Aurelia wanted to believe at one time. However, fate was a cruel mistress and the fae had learned her lesson. Deviating from her fate in the stars gave her freedom, a peace of mind from the thought of her ancestors watching her sins.Â
âThe stars must had known the events to come, yet they did nothing to alert the astrologers. Surely, they know the identity of Cedricâs killer,â she pointed out, irate awakening itself from its slumber. There were many eyes on her court after what had transpired, which meant the continued armor of joyfulness and glee adorned on the Summer Fae. If there was one thing her court knew best, it was how to perform a role. Even now during her conversation with the Undersea Fae, she remembered her mask and pulled out a flask of faerie wine from the pocket of her gown to offer him some before taking a drink herself. Maybe, the loss of their own was meant to be a divine sign for the Summer Court. Or maybe, the stars sat in the sky keen to see crimson blood spill and tension erupt between the courts. Was all of this merely another tale for them? âDo you know the story of the Isidore the Noble?â she asked, spotting the familiar bow said to belong to Isidore in the sky.Â















