beneath a midnight sun . . .

[megtheestallions-deactivated202]

nobody:

me:

[rcsewatrs]

lupusrcx​:

Yadriel had bigger plans than tending to the horses tonight, all he needed was a proper in and he’d gladly abandon his workman post so that he could focus on the actual reason he’d even clawed his way out of Cloverwood Forest to begin with. He was sick and tired of this already—the pretentious Fair Folk and the way that they looked down upon the humans that they so gladly enslaved, it was no wonder he felt no real guilt for his role of lead interrogator for the Resistance. Or … well … he hadn’t before Sophia, at least, and that had only been because she’d shown him a startling glimmer of humanity that he’d not once seen before in any of the Fae that he’d willingly questioned and tortured on behalf of the Rebellion. It was the last thing that he’d expected to find, especially in a Nymph, and he blocked it out now as best as he could. 

He didn’t much care about who had approached him, just that he wanted them to fuck right off as soon as they were able to. He turned around, upper lip already curled back in a disdainful sneer, but it wasn’t the demanding, snobbish stare of one of the pretentious Night Court fae he’d been dealing with all evening, but rather … The soft, deep brown eyes of a vision in gold. She spoke to him in a voice that came out drenched in silk, with a captivating accent he could not recognize, and she somehow appeared to him as both a doe, with her large, velveteen eyes, and a noble lioness with the way that she carried herself, the refined regality of her strong, willowy frame that managed both feminine allure and empowered grace. She wasn’t a human, he knew that much, but she also wasn’t a member of the Nightmare Kingdom … she shone far too brightly for that. 

His guard had to be up. He’d been taken in by a pretty face before—it was why he was in this fucking mess in the first place—but as he watched the way the sateen-skinned woman interacted with the mare that he’d been untrussing, he found that he was drawn in by more than just her beauty. And that was the point of Fae like her, wasn’t it? Her wings were glamored away, providing him no insight into which court she might have hailed from, but somehow he knew that she wasn’t a Nymph, she lacked the deceptive fragility that the Garden-grown faeries wielded like a weapon when it suited them. Being called a stable boy brought a derisive scoff out of him, he levelled his dark, impassive gaze upon her immortal visage in the light of the Full Moon.

“Not troubled at all, my lady.” He has a role to play, even if he can’t quite muster the smile of a simple human workman as his voice comes out sounding low and gruff. With a firm tug on its reigns, he pulled the horse away from the woman stroking it so fondly—as if she shared an empathetic bond with the creature that had been utilized for nothing more than carriage rides throughout the evening. The mare whinnied softly in protest, brushing its finely polished hooves against the dusty ground as if to once again be near the Fae that had been doting it with affection, and Yadriel scowled, muttering an order to remain still before he turned to narrow his shadowed, glowering gaze towards the woman of golden bronze once more.

“You’re missing out on the party, all so that you can compliment my work?” he asked pointedly, with a meaningful glance towards the reigns of his horse. There was an itch beneath his skin, a sense of something prickling in his fingertips that he usually only felt before one or two things: a fired-up fight or a good fuck. “Surely a woman of your means would be better off suited back inside with the other higher-ups. Aren’t they meant to be fawning over your beauty, my lady?” He blinks at her, with the molten-brown eyes of a predator, slow and languid, he allows his gaze to trail from the top of her closely-shorn hair to the luscious curves left displayed by her ensemble. She wore not a fairy princess dress, like so many of the other guests he’d had the displeasure of ushering into carriages, but something else entirely … it almost reminded him of battle armor. “Or are you looking for directions leading to the mating cottages out in the woods?” 

-

The very moment he turns to peer at her, Ikora knows such an encounter will be unlike any other that she’s had before — at least, with a mortal that is. Since the moment she first went through the maturation rites of the Wild Hunt, the wolf fae had been accustomed to every manner of stare, advancement, as well as entrancement. She cannot count the amount of people she’s known across her lifetime, human and fae alike, and yet none had ever held such a presence as the male before her. “ Mm, I hope so. “ Even with a smile in her own right, Ikora can immediately see through the veil — once again, she found humans were filled with far too much pride in their own abilities, that of which included lying. Whether it was doted upon being a supernatural-tinted talent, or just her own pure intuition, Ikora had always been able to read the room well enough — regardless if it might be a war council, or a stable at hand.

“ Wakati mwingine, labda — another time, perhaps. “ She hums softly in passing departure as the male pulls the horse from her touch, golden eyes turning to fully peer across at the so-called stable boy — she had an inkling, deep down, that there was something in the air unseen and likewise preferably unknown about this mortal he did not want her knowing. Regardless, such a place was not a setting for an interrogation she might have alternatively conducted would this have been the Hunting grounds; she was a guest of the Night Court, and at the very least would anonymously continue to embody such. “ Let’s us simply say.... parties do not often agree with those who have little patience for chagrin politics. “ A smirk dances over her lips, her purpose in leaving her answers rather open-ended not one by mistake. His words however cause a flicker of humor to be set alight within Ikora, hand raising to rest against the column of her throat as she lets out a bout of bemused laughter. “ You tickle me, kijana. “ There is a danger to the way her stare returns to him, their actions reading that of unnaturally old friends, yet the metallic of her gaze pointing in a direction far different. “ No, I’m afraid they are too busy licking one another’s boots and praying to that pepo Beaument to witness any beauty of true substantial. What do I care? Let them dawdle, I have far greater things to worry about than men and women who break under the slightest of pressure. “ Unnaturally sharpened canines gleam almost threateningly against the darkness of her skin — but as much as it was directed towards the unknown stable-hand, it was precariously not one of malice either. 

As if on cue to her curiosity over his intentions, his words leave an inkling of want that grows under the hunger of his stare — she rarely bided her time in the company of mortals, not out of spite but merely safety; and yet, the boldness of his intentions (which hardly went unknown) left her interested far more than she’d like to admit. “ Mm, I suppose I might venture there.. “ Turning to peer off to the distance, a few moments of pointed silence rest between them before she speaks again in a far more inclined tone, the golden shimmer of her gaze flicking to watch him from the corner of her eye. “ ...if I might also have some company along the way. “

[rcsewatrs]

nymphcts​:

Théo was family, and always had been. It had taken nothing short of an entire village to raise Arielle - especially given her older brothers’ ineptitude when it came to child-rearing - and the role that Théo himself had played in her upbringing was perhaps the most important of them all. In the same way that Henryk Wolfe’s presence as a warrior fae was considered unusual for a court so known for their floral beauty and whimsical nature, Théo’s sheer size and rough, rugged demeanor was not what anyone had ever expected from a Royal Healer, of all things. He was a study in contrasts and contradictions, but to Arielle, he represented all things that were gentle and good. Who had been there for her, if not Theo, when she had flown too far and too high only to come crashing down upon the castle veranda, and instead of pointedly bandaging her scrapes and bruises and scolding her all the while, had taught her how to patch herself up with the sort of tender patience one could only have expected to find within a man known for his ability to ameliorate? The broadness of his shoulders and the long, towering length of his muscular body might have suggested a prowess for combat and battalions, but oh, his hands -

His hands had never done anything but heal. The moment Arielle heard the familiar sound of Théo’s voice coming out from behind the door, the impressionable young princess couldn’t help but beam with anticipation. She had already been excited as it was when Ares had granted her permission to attend the Beaumont-Wren wedding as a representative of the Spring Court, but her bunny rabbit heart had begun to race tenfold the instant she learned that she would be doing so on the arm of her Théo. It was almost inconceivable, to the half-nymph, that he had even been available to escort her in the first place. As far as she was concerned, Théo was one of Astralis’ most eligible bachelors; even if he wasn’t at all aware of it, there was no missing the way that almost all of her ladies-in-waiting simpered and preened at every opportunity when they were in the presence of the Royal Healer, and as deserving of their admiration as he might have been, Arielle had never been able to stop herself from whisking him away from them with a pout.

“I think that even my brother would merely appreciate your dedication to our theme, silly,” Arielle teased in response, her dainty hands clasping impatiently behind her back as she all but bounced up and down on the balls of her feet in anticipation. His confirmation that she had been right in suggesting that he don himself in shades of aurelian gold brought a delighted little smile to Arielle’s angelic nymphet face. All the while, the songbirds fluttering in wait at the trailing hem of her dress chirped out their own eager little sounds, and by the time Théo finally opened up his door, it couldn’t have been a moment too soon. For a man of his size, his movements were still so strikingly gentle and soft-footed, and as he stood before her in the entryway, a gilded circlet resting upon his brow and the dark overcoat she had insisted he wear draped fetchingly over the burnished gold of his suit, Arielle felt a startled little gasp tumble helplessly past her lips. 

But she did not have time to properly react, to fervently exclaim just how handsome he was in the finery of the ensemble she had convinced him to wear; Théo had always been so painfully modest, so unaware of his own inherent appeal, and so she shouldn’t have been at all surprised when he chose to focus on her instead. So awestruck by his appearance, she had almost completely forgotten about the dazzling ballgown she wore now, as well as her hopeful little girl wish that he would find her even half as lovely as the garment itself. Tentatively, she met his gaze, and she found that he was - speechless. He looked at her, seemingly at a loss for words, and when he finally spoke, it was in a soft, stammering voice that sent a sudden rush of teeming warmth into the bottom of Arielle’s stomach. Beautiful. He thought that she was…”Thank you, Théo,” she said sheepishly, breathlessly, tucking an errant blonde curl back into its silky pink ribbon, and she felt the apples of her cheeks flush with rosy heat as she looked up at him.

They needed to get going, lest she end up fumbling over herself in the corridor as she replayed his earnest words of praise over and over again in her mind, but she couldn’t refrain from stepping forward, birds tittering in her wake as she used her small, graceful hands to needlessly smooth out the front of his cloak. “The gold brings out your eyes,” she sighed softly, with a little tug to his lapel, and it was then that she found herself straightening even the gilded body chain he wore draped over his well-built shoulders; eventually, she was standing on the very tips of her toes to inspect his regal circlet as well. “I always knew that you’d look good in a crown! You really should just let me dress you every day, you know.” Her springtime-green gaze turned mischievous, then, and she offered him a coy, playful smile, as her fluttering little hands fell to rest sweetly upon either side of his broad chest. “Especially if it means that I’d get to hear you say those three wonderful words on a daily basis: Arielle. Is. Right.” 

-

His attention is lost in the gentle serenity of Arielle’s very presence, as if time had stilled and created a very utopia that surrounded only them. For as long as Théo had known her, she’d been little bird first, princess second ― albeit something she had ushered forth, and to the chagrin of his descending status. No matter the fact that he’d known her since she was but a blooming flower, Théo had always held the utmost respect for the Deerling family, that of which he fought against each time she insisted on dropping formalities. “ I do hope he would, though I will say... “ The healer trails off, eyes lifting into gentle crescent moons as a smile breaks over his face. “ Every guest shall be left wanting once their eyes land on you. That, I have never been surer of. “ As if to prove his point, Théo’s gaze drinks in the princess’s sunkissed skin as he gets a better look at her dress. Between the twinkle of her eyes and the tittering of the birds hovering above her train, he felt as if he might take flight that very moment ― albeit his wings had been glamoured and the very last thing he would want would be to leave Arielle’s side. In fact, Théo’s attention is so enamored that he misses her response to his stammered reply, blinking momentarily before sheepish heat flutters through his skin. “ You’re very welcome, little bird. “ His voice seems so far away, throat tightening under the weight of her gaze as the healer’s adam apple bobs uncertainly ― he had never been this nervous before her, never.... and yet then again, he’d never seen Arielle like this either.

And above all else, Théo knew he would hardly cease to forget it.

His eyes widen on instinct as she steps forwards, the distance between them unbearingly close as he peers down quietly towards her. She smells like... “ Spring. “ Théo murmurs quietly barely low enough for either of them to hear, unable to stop his thoughts from forming into words. “ You... you remind me of spring. “ Humor at their court nationality aside, such a thought causes honey skin to redden with a blush of slight embarrassment. As if on cue to heighten such, Arielle’s compliments rise to Théo’s ears and cause him to suck in a breath of apprehension, sea-glass stare flickering towards the dainty motions of her fingers that pressed into his cloak. “ The pink.. “ He trails off, stare falling to the details of her outfit that captivated him even with such minimal space between them. “ It makes you look... ethereal. “ 

Théo swears he’s never acted as such before ― for a fae of not only his age but aptitude and approach, the healer normal held a gentle yet calm stance when dealing with things. The only person, to the very day, who had managed to crack such a visage was none other than Princess Arielle herself ― and it both terrified Théo as much as it did leave him in awe. With hope of keeping such a realization secret, he turns his attention to the additive garment upon his head; he never thought he’d see the day where he might wear such a regal item, though how could he say no to the very proposition? Even especially, one that came from her? The pleading stare she never ceased to present left Théo with cracks in his heart only she could fill. “ You forget, m’lady, that I don’t have as varying a wardrobe as you do. “ Laughter bubbles forth from the male as he raises his touch, fingers curling around Arielle’s to take her hand in his own. “ Though I may have to give in, considering how good you made me look. “ He hums whilst running his thumb endearingly over her knuckles. The matter-of-fact tone she beckons only earns a roll of Théo’s eyes, playful if anything as the healer tugs her slightly closer. “ Perhaps, but only if I get a smile in return. “ Rosy tiers pull back into a bemused grin as he tilts his head to the side, his gaze never leaving Arielle’s save for when he fells his head, pressing his lips warmly to the back of her hand. “ We should leave, lest the carriage departs without us and Ares becomes more irritated than what Monsieur Beaumont can give him. “>

[valtsv]

*slowly removes my heart-shaped sunglasses* i beg your fucking pardon

[rcsewatrs]

thenxghtwemet​:

“That’s your job. But if it’s too difficult a task to keep track of our King and Queen, I can relieve you. I always thought I would make a superior spymaster.” Unlike most of her remarks, Jacqueline’s words lacked any true bite. There was no limit to her viciousness, or the chaos that resulted from her prickled senses. Though her actions were always in service of Gabriel and the Jeweled City, her wounded ego produced many incinerated friendships in her wake. But of the many she felt in competition with (her brothers, the nymphs, and the endless politicos of rival courts), Zol was not among them. They were opposite sides of the same coin, sharing in their values and dispositions, while varying widely in their execution. The spymaster preferred the shadows, unearthing secrets through his stealth and defense. The advisor, in contrast, favored the light. She lived in the middle of life, pairing her doe eyes with a timid smile to foster closeness. Her competitive nature may spur instances of taunts and jests, but Jacqueline knew (just as Zol did) of the truth. Nether could excel, without the other.

At the center of the historic union, it was of great importance that the Nightmare King’s inner court be in attendance. Their absence from the scene, however unwitting, would only prompt speculation from their enemies. Did Gabriel’s inner court disapprove? The reputation of the Night Court fae as naturally suspicion was not unfounded. But proving it right, even if it was coincidental, was neither wise nor forgivable. The High Lord bequeathed his matrimonial bed in exchange for the Jeweled City’s protection. The least his loyal fae could do, was prove his strength through compliance. For Zol, in particular, Jacqueline knew it required a firm hand. But he stood by her, epitomizing the reservation and mystery of their ranks. Cold, he may be, but the spymaster earned his title through his ability to conform. It is only in the privacy of their interlocked arms and quick feet, that his ire comes to the surface.

“They act quick. The nymphs already have their claws in our court.” Jacqueline scowls, covering her expression by lowering her head against his shoulder. “My brother, Jacques, is in attendance with one. Pitiful.” She gripes, her grip on Zol’s hand tightening at the irritation it caused her. The Thorn and Jacqueline were friendly, seemingly friends, but she knew their kind were built to learn the secrets of the Night Court. “Though I question her taste, more than his.” Jacqueline peers up from his shoulder, meeting Zol’s equally disdainful expression with her own. “Still, its effective. The Spring Court seems to be unnerved by our new alliance.”

Her words do little to quell his simmering aggravation, a rolling of his eyes blatantly presenting such as he glances down towards her. “ We both know the minute that you’d try, you’d end up getting yourself fed to one of those hormonal beasts of the Hunt. “ The mere thought earns the crinkle of his nose, coupled with the passing presence of two Wolf fae whose scent he was not particularly fond of. It wasn’t as if it didn’t amuse him ― part of Zol would find humor in watching his childhood friend swap places; but if there was one thing he’d never disregard, it was the truth that they both had varying strengths and weaknesses of which happened to compliment one another.

As well as prove one of the Night Court’s greatest assets, and most terrifying defenses.

He plays into her movement, arm wrapping further around her waist as the two twirl almost effortlessly ― it was easy to see why some might assume they were more, but those that dared utter such thoughts often found their tongues cut when the shadows were darkest. “ C’est vrai, and yet it is but a beautiful illusion they hopefully cling to. “ The corner of his lips tilt into a coy smirk, fingers pressing into her back almost in reassurance. “ I have no concerns that Gabriel might kiss and tell.... we both know how he is. As for Sophia... “ His smirk grows ever so slightly, eyes narrowing as if in thought. “ She may think that a crown gives her power, but the truth is far from different. I will not keep my eyes off of her for a mere second, non. “ Knowing Zol, such was both metaphorical and literal ― it was natural for him to hold suspicions of every person, and the High Lady was no different. He’d already had his Eyes watching her every move, confident in the mere fact that no matter what she did, he’d come to learn of it regardless. “ Elle aura l'impression que c'est une prison avant longtemps. “ He whispers in Jacqueline’s ear, a cruel glint in his eyes.

Still, his attention is shifted with the notion of her brother, leaning back to peer down at her with a cocked brow of interest. “ I would question any Nymph’s taste, though it always seems to revolve around one thing. “ He huffs in a demeaning manner, knowing either of them understood the meaning behind is prodding. “ Any day I am able to see Monsieur Deerling bite his inner cheek is a day well won, ma nuit. “ He hums at the childhood nickname, a twinkle of sadistic teasing rising to his eye. “ And the day I get to see him writhe in his throne is a day I hope to become a court holiday. “

[covrtofnightmares]

GABRIEL &&. ZOL + @rcsewatrs​

The ballroom was a kaleidoscope of colors; a couple from the Winter Court, decked in shades of powder blue, were waltzing across the gleaming marble floor, laughter filling the air as they glided past the High Lord, their snowy owl wings tittering behind them. The perfect portrait of happiness, Gabriel observed as he stood from his throne and made his way down the dais and away from the dancing. A member of the Wild Hunt stood before the large, glittering table that housed the impressive croquembouche display, reaching for one of the decadent pieces of pastry and licking the amber-colored honey and powdered sugar off the top, a light laugh spilling past their lips as they shared it with their date for the evening. As he gazed at the splendor and marvel of his wedding reception, people joyous and merry as they entertained one another, the King of Nightmares knew the event had been a success among the courts.

Still, Gabriel was discontent.

Turning away from the glittering lights and infectious laughter that invaded his ordinarily-silent home, Gabriel pushed open a set of wide French doors, spilling out into the inky blackness that cloaked the high castle like a cocoon. The chill of the autumn evening breeze lifted his hair, causing strands to flutter about his face. The moon hung high above him, its full, warm glow illuminating the Night Court’s lush royal gardens, as Gabriel took a hesitant step down the winding stone staircase and out into his gardens. He was a High Lord; he was expected to keep his guests company, to mingle with other rulers, to gather intelligence on what they were planning. And he had, hadn’t he? He’d won; he’d gathered the greatest alliance of them all and had procured a beautiful, intelligent mate to rule by his side. But the world was too colorful and bright; the room was spinning, and as Gabriel quietly descended the steps that led into the quiet tranquility of his gardens, perfectly tended to and cultivated by the royal gardener, he felt…lonely. Heavy, unbearable loneliness pooled in his stomach, as tangible as the ring that now graced his third finger.

He had the world in his hands, and no one who wanted to share it with him. It was a lonely climb to the top, and though Gabriel had fought and clawed his way to this position, he now sat in isolation. His bride surely did not want him after their earlier exchange; if she grew to understand his gnarled, blackened heart, she would flee this place and never return. As Gabriel stalked the winding cobblestone path that led through the heart of the Night Court gardens, shadows spilled from his hands like ink, curling around his feet and trailing behind him like the train of a cloak. His magic wished to protect him from the outside world, but did it not sense that it was the world that needed protecting from him?

“Leave me,” he demanded to a servant who was tending the small garden of black dahlias, and the creature was quick to gather their belongings and scurry away as Gabriel moved towards the stone wall that enclosed the gardens, pressing his hands up against the top of the wall and gazing up at the stars, crashing into one another millions of miles above his head. Perhaps, if he stared long enough, his eyes would become constellations, and he’d float to the heavens and return to stardust.

[rcsewatrs]

For as long as Zol has known him, there was one fact about the High Lord that was as blatant as any — he liked his privacy. Meager amusement was found in the plethora of times the spymaster had witnessed nosy servants be berated by Gabriel, all too often mortals that carried with themselves a sense of entitlement — like ants to a boot. Still, as with most things, Zol was hardly deceived by the sharp glances and deterrent answers his Lord gave to others; with privacy came loneliness, and practically every manner of Night Fae understood that. The spymaster and his High Lord had known one another since childhood, and aside from the likeminded similarities, there was only one blatant distinction between them in their miniscule differences;

Zol embraced the loneliness, while Gabriel was haunted by it.

It is for this exact reason that he decides to follow, spotting the elder slip away rather inconspicuously from the reception hall for reasons he could already guess. No one in their right mind would ever think of tagging along after the ruler of the Night Court especially — but Zol hadn’t been in his right mind since he was a boy, and regardless of his job the importance of his presence wouldn’t be missed.

So, he follows.

Down the chilled corridors and out into the the moonlight, the raven-haired male hangs far from Gabriel’s figure in essence of observation, eyes peering at him intently even as the attendant rushes like a scared rabbit from the vicinity. He was distressed, that much was clear — if Zol could count on anything, it was that the elder knew to keep up appearances when able; and right now? That shell was cracking, and the spymaster strangely felt worried by it. Very rarely did such emotions rush forth, and even rarer did Zol opt to act on fixing them — but Gabriel, above all others, was a friend and as much family as someone of his broken caliber deserved. Zol had never been well-versed in solving such situations, but he knew one thing; whatever Gabriel needed, even if it was simply the silence of his presence, he would try his very best to provide.

“ Fatigué des festivités déjà? “ Zol’s voice holds a slightly more humoring tone than those he normally converses with, figure barely illuminated by the moon whilst leaning almost precariously against the wall. “ I heard the prosecco was to die for... albeit I haven’t confirmed such a rumor for myself. “ Though his expression didn’t give much away of his concern, the unnatural lightness of his voice is enough to rise suspicion of such — the darkness of Zol’s eyes seems just a tad bit warmer than normal, settling on Gabriel’s figure for a few moments before he speaks again. “ You were always horrendous at keeping things from me. Tell me, what’s wrong. “

[wickedgxmes]

@rcsewatrs​

“We really weren’t kidding when we said we’d let  just anyone in, hm?” Nate let out a low whistle as he stepped up beside the spymaster. A deep chuckle escaping his lips as he took one look at what one of the foreign faes had thought to be acceptable attire to wear. The Captain of the Guard had always adored parties. In fact, if today’s ceremony had been one of the Night Courts typical lavish events, Nate would have probably been half bottle deep already or more. But, alas, the Captain was on duty. His eyes scanning the room, drifting from one horrendous outfit to the next, as he kept an eye on not only their ‘welcomed’ guests, but that of his own guards and the Wild Hunt among them. Nate was in full support of their high lord’s arrangement to marry the young nymph, but that also didn’t mean he trusted the outsiders. Alas, he’d have to wait till the next open bar, but at least the man could get some entertainment off of poking fun of the Court’s visitors with a dear friend to pass some time.

[rcsewatrs]

“ Unfortunately, it seems we have to. “ If the disdain in Zol’s tone wasn’t evident enough, the expression on his face surely was; signature steely-eyed stare burning into the backs of every mortal and fae that passed through the entryway, if looks could kill he’d have slaughtered half the guests already. Between fluttering around with coupled mockery by Jacqueline’s side, to  eavesdropping for some rather interesting details pertaining to the Alliance, Zol had also been shackled to the duty of screening the arrivals alongside the Captain. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy it— well, actually, that was a lie; he tended not to enjoy much at all —but more so took it as an opportunity of sorts to at least fill in the gaps of his boredom and disinterest. Unlike him and Jacqueline, Nate was not on the ‘opposite side’ of the coin at all; in fact, the two were very similar in many regards, just with very, very different personalities.

“ If I see one more garment the color of pink— “ He rolls his eyes, teeth gritted as if offended by the very brightness of such a color. “ Ils ressemblent à des singes. You would think our esteemed guests would understand the meaning of Night. “ He grunts, glancing towards his friend before his stare jumps to an approaching couple. 

[lupusrcx]

It was shaping up to be one hell of a night already. Sure, he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place, he’d been put on the same goddamned list as Raymond fucking Holloway due to his … prior relationship with the feminine half of the newlywed couple in question, but there’d never been much that was capable of stopping Yadriel Demir from doing exactly what he wanted. Was he faithful to the Resistance? Of course. Did he trust Noa and Santiago to make decisions that were the best for their ragtag bunch? Sure. But was he going to sit his ass back at the encampment while the only woman that’d ever gotten under his fucking skin married a bloodsucking leech from the Night Court? There wasn’t a snowball’s chance. Raymond, perhaps, might have been content to remain in the woods with Alexander and Lilianna as they babysat his mangy ass, but Yadriel had no intention of keeping them company. Instead, he’d waited until the rest of the Rebellion was well on their way to the wedding, clad in their various disguises, it was only once the sky had been sheathed fully in darkness that Yadriel began a trek all of his own. 

For all the power the Fair Folk supposedly held, it was almost shockingly easy to weasel his way into the infamous Beaumont Castle, he donned an everyday ‘workman’ ensemble and all it had taken was a shamelessly dishonest claim that he’d been hired on as a stableman for the evening to be granted access to the event. Fucking carriage rides—was this the sort of entertainment that interested the Fae when they weren’t too busy gouging out the eyes of human children?

He wouldn’t be focusing on that tonight though. Instead, the head interrogator was briskly removing the saddle from one of the horses he was alternating back to the stables for the rest of the night, he’d missed the wedding ceremony in full but planned on sneaking into the reception as soon as he was able to. He needed to see her. It’d been nearly a year since Sophia had escaped from the Resistance and now here she was, about to spearhead the most powerful alliance that Astralis had ever seen. It ate away at him, gnawing at the muscle of his already torn-up heart, and it would have taken as much self-control as he possessed not to rip the head off of Gabriel Beaumont himself if given the chance. 

For now he tended to the dark-haired mare, animals were so much fucking easier for him to understand than any being—mortal or otherwise—had ever been. With the sleeves of his shirt pushed up onto his strong, toned muscles, and his thick hair pulled back with a bit of leather cord, he appeared every bit of the stableman he was pretending to be, so it was no surprise really, when he felt a presence approach him from behind. “This one’s done for the night,” he grunted without turning around, with a light swat to the horse’s flank as he finally undid the last of its trussing. “Carriage rides are still being offered near the castle courtyard. Go find someone over there to bother, aye?” 

@rcsewatrs​

[rcsewatrs]

In every sense of the term, Ikora was a midnight sun amongst a sea of glittering stardust — her skin shimmered with the twinkling of a thousand lights, golden attire seeming to melt into her very figure. She appeared a goddess of sorts, one that looked almost equally as intimidating beside Lucien in her own right — where as he caused passers to train their eyes on the floor, she commanded their attention. Even without a sword at her hip, there was something about the way Ikora’s eyes peered at others that made them feel.... vulnerable; as if she was staring into your very soul. Everyone knew that the war advisor was anything if not decisive in mannerisms as well personality — but tonight, just for tonight, she supposed she’d try to enjoy feigned company with the other guests; for Lucien’s sake, as well as the newly-founded alliance’s.

Subtlety was not an art Ikora found herself well-versed in, apart of but a singular few vices that clung to her character. She had always been the type to get straight to the point, yet she was hardly blind to court politics— that of which was said in her mind in the snobbiest voice possible —and knew to keep even more of a lid on as usual.

Tonight they would be expecting mama simba — mother lion. And for once, Ikora would play perfectly into it.

Aside from the miniscule chatter she humors with the other fae, she’d spent most of her evening shadowing Lucien’s embellished figure; he was more than capable of handling himself (of which Ikora enjoyed teasingly reminding him the opposite of), she just felt increasing exhausted with each passing conversation not directed by the nymphs or her packmates. Eventually, it became all too much — Ikora swears she’s close to chomping the nearest waitstaff’s head off, and to save face in the light of impressions, her feet whisk her away from the reception and out towards the nearest entryway. She’d always felt more at home beneath the moon than any other sort of abode, and that evening was hardly an exception — the canopy of trees, and even mountains, was far more of a home to her than any sort of roofing might be. Regardless, Ikora had to owe it to the impending cycle for her agitation of sorts; the fullness of the moon had yet to fully fall center, and only the gods know how she would choose to spend it. As if plagued by the thought, her eyes trail fleeting from the path she takes, heels clicking against the carven stone staircase that leads she knows not where. Ikora chastises herself for not taking the opportunity to admire the Night Court’s environment sooner — unlike the dainty High fae that could hardly stand looking down, the war advisor always took a liking to the unknown; after all, there was adventure in discovering it, yes? The approaching attitudes of the twilight creatures and coldness aside, there was a beauty to the mountainous region that seemed so detached from the trifling of the valleys and forests.

And yet how humoring it was that they seemed to have wormed themselves in regardless.

As was customary towards Ikora’s mannerisms, she finds it difficult to focus on any one thing when alone with her thoughts; such a fact changes however as the echo of miniscule muttering graces the fae woman’s ears, turning the path’s bend to reveal one of the many stables housing the carriage equines for the night. She expects to see a human, yet does not in the slightest foresee someone of such.... loathing — it droves off of the male in waves, so much so Ikora is sure even a mortal could feel it. She’d known particular fae often mistreated the mortal races, and despite never dwelling on the mere thought of raising a hand against such, she’d felt such anger far too many times before — Ikora only grew more concerned, if not curious, as to what made him feel this way too.

Before she can even turn herself away, the war advisor steps forward and into view, velvet eyes peering intently towards the back of the male. His dismissiveness earns a slight laugh from Ikora — typical mortals, always so caught up in their own vices without a care for the world around them. Still, she supposed they had reasons for such things; and her interest drove her to find out his. Footsteps echo as Ikora steps up to the horse, gentle fingers taking hold of the mount’s head to softly stroke its glimmering fur — though her eyes are on the mare, her attention was acutely pertained to the human near to her. “ Yeye ni mrembo— she is beautiful, is she not? “ Humming, she glides a hand down the expanse of its neck. “ You have taken good care of her, stable boy. You should be proud. “ Flicking her darkened gaze over towards him, there’s a humorous smile that laces across her lips. For a few moments she seems to study him, drinking in not only the sight of his... figure, but more so the mannerisms of which he utilizes — one could learn everything there was to a person just by observing. “ You seem troubled. I take it it’s not simply working on a night off? “ 

[nymphcts1]

@rcsewatrs​  ♡ ; théo & arielle!! 

Arielle had very few friends. The truth of the matter was that, for as sociable and affectionate as she might have been, the Spring Court was not nearly as opening and welcoming as it appeared at first glance, and her upbringing had reflected that. The small amount of people she had grown up with had been carefully selected by both of her older brothers, but especially Ares, and as a result, Arielle had learned to seek solace in the castle staff instead - even if they were only there because they’d been hired to be there. As a child, she’d often found herself clinging onto not just her many governesses but even the royal chefs as well; Apollo was so often away leading the Valkyries, and Ares had an entire kingdom to run. Her father, of course, had exiled himself far away in the mountains, and it wasn’t until Arielle was older that she was able to visit him freely.

But there had always been one constant. Before bodyguards, before a best friend in the form of a neighboring princess…at the very start of it all, there had been Théo. Chosen specifically by the High Lord himself to bring the role of Royal Healer to life, the dark-haired, brutish-seeming fae wouldn’t have been granted the position on looks alone; as much as Arielle might have admired his rebel angel eyes and rough and tumble appearance, there was no denying the fact that a Healer at first glance he did not resemble. Still, despite his warrior-esque frame and dark deposition, there was nothing about Théo that was meant for fighting. Big, but gentle - strong, but tender-hearted, Théo had spent as much time bandaging her scraped knees as he had teaching her how to hone her powers, and it was only thanks to him that she had managed to wield the skills and abilities granted to her by her bloodline that her dearly-departed mother had once so effortlessly commanded all on her own. More than that, he had become her friend.

And so, the young princess had been beyond delighted when Ares and Apollo had informed her that Théo himself would be the one to escort her to the Beaumont-Wren wedding. It was meant to be the event of the century, and the spirited little blonde had spent the last three months preparing for it as a result; there were outfits to be planned and sent to the royal seamstress for creation, diamonds and gold to be crafted into the finest jewelry prepared solely for the Deerlings and their inner circle, and Arielle absolutely refused to spare even the tiniest of details. It wasn’t just Apollo and Ares’ ensembles that she had placed herself in charge of, but Henryk and Calliope’s as well, and she had even managed to have a say in her bodyguard’s outfit, too. And then there was Théo - she’d asked, begged, and outright pleaded that he clothe himself in a bit of gold, if only so that the Spring Court’s inner circle could appear as a united front, but if she had truly had it her way, he would have worn a grandiose crown befitting of the king that he was.

There was no time like the present, however. Having spent the entirety of the afternoon getting ready for the ball with the help of Calliope and Tatiana, Arielle was now excitedly fluttering up along the spiral staircase that led to Théo’s quarters; Ares and Apollo had already gone ahead in the first Pegasus-led carriage assigned to them, but the rose-petaled princess had insisted upon waiting for Théo so that they could make the journey to Night Court together. Privately, she also wished to show him her dress prior to leaving, when it was only just the two of them. Completely unlike any of the pretty sundresses and springtime frocks she’d worn throughout her adolescence, the ballgown she donned now was nothing less than extravagant; she’d meant to embody Aphrodite in all of her Venus-borne glory, and with a crown of gilded seashells and freshwater pearls atop her resplendent blonde head, and a team of twittering songbirds happily chirping away as they lifted the gossamer trail of her dress, she felt truly - well, beautiful.

And she could only hope that he felt the same. “Théo!” Sir Cinna to others, he’d been Théo to her from the moment he’d first given her permission to drop the honorific, and as soon as Arielle managed to reach his door, she was knocking fastidiously on the heavy wood with one of her daintily impatient hands, calling out sweetly, melodically, insistently, for him to hear, “Our carriage is arriving any minute now, and we really shouldn’t be late. I’ve never visited Night Court before, but I have heard the rumors claiming that they feed their unwanted guests to the hellhounds, and as confident as I am when it comes to my skills as an animal empath, I’m not so certain that I’d be willing to risk it just so that you can have a moment longer to fix your hair in the mirror.” She was teasing him, of course, and had to pause to bite down on one rosy bottom lip as she fought back a mischievous little grin from spreading across her heart-shaped pixie face. “Or are you fretting over those big arms of yours bursting out of a tuxedo jacket? If you had just gone with the outfit I had originally suggested - the one that left you bare from the waist up with nothing but a bit of gold paint - then you wouldn’t have to worry about that at all, now would you?” 

[rcsewatrs]

The night was of something no less than ecstasy ― Théo hadn’t often been a guest at weddings of high esteem, even more particularly those of the royal category, despite being considered apart of the ‘inner circle’ of sorts to the Spring Court. While the familiarity of his home was something he was far more keen towards, Théo couldn’t deny the eagerness of adventure of sorts; the inky black sky and shadowed mountains were a far cry from the lush forests and bubbling streams of the Spring domain, though they offered a new experience he couldn’t say he’d ever been apart of. Truth be told, aside from fleeting advances to foreign markets and the like, he’d never readily visited any other court with sight-seeing intentions in mind ― this time around however, he hoped to change that. Diplomatism had never been Théo’s strong-suit, and silently the healer was grateful he wouldn’t need to put on a show of sorts to present to the additional fae invited. No, Théo was genuine ― something he couldn’t exactly say for those around him.

But if there was one person he was more than sincere in his affections for, it was Arielle ― princess to most, family to some, and friend to Théo. If one had asked him if he’d see himself in the future growing a bond with a daughter of light itself, he’d call them insane ― but the truth of the matter is that the royal family was as much as a family to Théo as by blood, and in some ways the only one he’d ever truly need. At the forefront of such? The one he warmly doted on as little bird; and how right he was with such a name.

Swan wings glamoured for the evening, the last thing Théo wanted was to keep the princess waiting; and yet, then came his own personal urgency to look the best he possibly could for her. He couldn’t lie ― when he was asked to accompany Arielle by his High Lord, Théo nearly broke the skin of his palm in an effort to keep from leaping straight into the sky; and gods know he might never come down if it had happened. In personal truth, he’d expected her to go off with some other manner of suitor, anyone with greater standing than the title of Royal Healer. It seemed albeit that reality, for once, had tilted in his favor ― as it had been for as long as Théo had known her.

It is almost humoring to the male when his thoughts of her are dissipated by the incessant knocking on his dwelling’s entryway, the muffled twinkle of Arielle’s voice bringing a smile to Théo’s face that he refused to rid himself of. “ Coming, princess! “ He calls back with a bit more eagerness than he would have liked. Tucking a few loose strands of hair in place, he gives himself a once-over in the full-length mirrored dawned opposite his bed ― he never thought gold would really be his color, but once again Arielle had proven herself well-versed as always in such manners. Théo thinks back fondly on the past few months, their alternations between usual lessons and spurs of excitement over potential outfits sticking warmly to his mind. Truly, Théo does not think he’s ever met one who personified the very sun as much as Arielle did; and he was more than grateful for her presence.

Quickly slipping back towards the main room, he suddenly pauses in realization he was missing the one item she had been oh so insistent on him wearing ― his crown. They’d spent many a meeting going over potential designs, with Arielle bringing her creative spark to light and Théo being more than shy with such attention. It was a fact that he’d never been greedy over holding others’ focus, though he knew he couldn’t escape it when such came to the Princess ― there were many he called friend, but none as important as her. As expected of such, he listens with a glimmer in his eye as the healer quickly rummages throughout his quarters, searching for the item in question as quickly as he possibly can. Arielle’s notion of going bare, albeit only halfway, blatantly sends heat flooding his face in a way he swears only she can do ― and yet, internally, Théo doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. “ Yes, yes, you’re correct in that... but then again, my Lord probably wouldn’t want me escorting you if I had, now would he? “ Humor laces his tone as he calls back towards her, chuckling at the thought of Ares’s insistence that she most particularly end up alone with any other man of high esteem. “ Besides, this jacket is growing on me. You were right that gold suits my complexion- “ Smiling to himself, a small ‘aha!’ echoes from past the door as Théo manages to finally acquire the crown in question ― a rather whimsical and golden item, made to fit in all the right places. Situating it atop his head, he comes to the conclusion that to keep Arielle waiting any longer was more of a vice than a virtue.

And yet nothing would prepare him for the moment he opens the door.

To say Théo is in awe is an understatement ― life was but a fairytale to him, and yet right now? It was something straight out of his most beautiful dreams. Eyes widening akin to a deer caught in headlights, sea-glass eyes shimmer as they travel over Arielle’s figure; he was caught dead in his tracks, that of which was a stark understatement. “ Little bird, you... “ Stammering softly, Théo manages to collect himself somewhat enough to a smile ― brilliant and shining, conveying the warmth in his tone as well as in his chest. “ you look beautiful. “

[thenxghtwemet]

@rcsewatrs​

The symphony of sound echoed through the grand hall of the Beaumont Castle, while the champagne flutes clinked and the chatter diluted the sound. Of the many tragedies taking place on the Night Court’s grounds that evening, Jacqueline discerned this as one of the worst. The musicians of the Jeweled City were superb, boasting more artistry in one note than other faes in their extensive lifetimes. Jacqueline, a virtuoso through and through, relished in the melody. But the surrounding company did not. At least, not in the way she did. Most would prefer to speak of the unholy union, or the beauty of the vile nymphs. She puffs her lips, a breath of irritable surrender. It was pointless to fight the clashing sound, or the foul mood the presence of other faes gave her. Outside her court, Jacqueline portrayed the doe-eyed and nimble role with ease. But she watched in petty anguish, as her home was overrun with simple-minded fools and giddy usurpers. It was another reminder of the changing tides. Though the brunette was adaptable, she was not inclined to enjoy it.

As was customary, Jacqueline and Zol made the rounds as members of Gabriel’s inner court. In events like these, she preferred to call the spymaster as her escort. It brought ease and mischief, to an otherwise irritable event. After their fair share of warm wishes and obligatory small talk, the two found the tower of champagne glasses, helping themselves to a drink. But neither the bubbly, nor their shared eye rolls uplifted her mood. To top it off, the chatter above her favorite symphony made it impossible to enjoy. “How much longer before Gabriel and Sophia emerge?” Jacqueline mutters impatiently, cleansing off the remains of her champagne flute. After another moment of pause, she loops her arm with Zol’s, tugging at the raven-haired man firmly. He was a man of many defenses, but history proved his manner of dance to be an elegant feat. If all else, it would salvage the remainder of the melody. “Shall we dance, mon ami?” She leads him to the center of the ballroom, one hand placed on his shoulder and the other looped into his hand. The baby blue dress moves along with her, as the childhood friends danced with ease. Since their youth, it felt as if Zol and Jacqueline were linked in movement, always knowing when one would turn right or left. “I suppose we must get used to it. Our doors are open now. Shan’t be long before our new friends bring plebeians through our city gates. Dragging with them, their lack of grace and taste, no doubt.”

[rcsewatrs]

Zol can count on a singular hand the amount of times he’d ever willingly ventured into a party, all of which involved some manner of outside influence the spymaster unfortunately couldn’t ignore. If he’d had it his way, he’d be surveying the mountainside for rather illicit beings ― as a head of security of sorts, Zol knew for a fact the entirety of the fae world had its attention painted with scrutiny on the day’s union, that of which unfortunately included mortal attention as well. Failure was not apart of his repertoire, especially on his High Lord’s wedding of all nights.

And yet, even while dressed in the most formal of wears he could produce, Zol stood out like a sore thumb. Within the crowd of preening fae that jumped at the chance to present themselves, his only solace was found in the accompaniment of practically the one person aside from Gabriel he might call friend ― Jacqueline. Together, the two of them appeared akin to some sort of beautiful nightmare, stared pointed enough to melt glass at whomever dared to cross their path. Zol could not lie in the fact that he enjoyed seeing her like this ― too often and especially as of recent had they been forced to masks their true identities, even in the presence of each other. Still, they had the advantage of having the ball in their home court as of the moment ― this was their domain, and no manner of ditzy doe-eyed approaches would deter them from protecting it.

While his occupation never ceased, particularly with the looming conflict on the horizon, Zol supposed for once (at Jacqueline’s insistence) that he at least try and look like he was enjoying everything. A fake smile that barely reached his eyes clung to the corners of his lips, flicking in the absence of any stares that trailed over to the duo’s placement ― if looks could kill, half the envoy would be dead by now. “ you ask me as if i know everything. “ Jacqueline’s tone earns the cock of an eyebrow, smirk trailing over his features as Zol’s steeled gaze flicks towards her. The humor lay in the fact that he most definitely did ― well, to a certain extent that was. Would he ever be blatant about such? Absolutely not. The spymaster’s pride was one that pertained to his very court, and any manner of personal weakness as he saw it mirrored itself in the presentation of his home. His thoughts however are dismissed by the pulling of his arm, barely managing to set his glass away before he finds himself guided into the midst of the crowd. The centerfold had never embraced him, always preferring to keep to the outskirts when possible ― and yet however cold he appeared, awkward he was not. Almost naturally in a way, Zol takes hold of Jacqueline’s smaller frame and begins to gracefully whisk through the room; they were two moons in a sea of unfamiliarity, the darkened velvet of his coat blending with the fluttering blue of her dress. “ Unfortunately it seems we may have to. “ He was not a man of many words, but as with most things it was easy for her to know what he was thinking simply by the look on his face ― though Zol was grateful for the ease of focus he pertained to the woman before him, the manner in which his gaze steeled intently on those that passed ceased to go unheeded. “ Je ne leur fais pas confiance― I do not trust them, nor do I hold care for the stench of a mockery they call elegance. “ 

[rcsewatrs]

― 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 #𝟏

𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦, albeit thanks to his lord’s decree that he ‘branch out’ it seemed easier said than done. zol had a tendency to blend in rather than stand out ― yet in a crowd full of those keen on doing quite the opposite, any attempts at being minute would have a stark reaction. he supposed, for the sake of the event at place, that he might once be civil ― and rest assured, however, his purpose there was for secrets and nothing more.

[rcsewatrs]

― 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 #𝟏

𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘥. celebration was unending for the golden court, and théo had never been an exception to such. while his high lord had a rather... interesting approach in diplomatic tendencies, he’s always been one to share his warmth with other people. accompanied by the princess herself, théo made note to give his well wishes to the bride and groom whilst also appreciating the unique serenity the night court had to offer ― after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he would be sure to make the most of it.

[rcsewatrs]

― 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 #𝟏

𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, at least not of the regal sort. clambering around a bonfire with arms linked had always been more ikora’s style, but how could she say no to a night of drinking, dancing, and celebrating beneath a full moon? ever the opportunist, for once the military advisor decided it was a good time as any to forget her troubles for the duration of the wedding ― though the same could not be said for after.

[rcsewatrs]

―MEET 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙊

&&. cauldron above, ( théo cinna ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is/are affiliated with ( spring court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 322 ; appears 25 ) year old ( high fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( alex høgh anderson ). ( he ) has been said to be ( gentle & compassionate ) but also quite ( passive & stubborn ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( the royal healer ).

              ― ❝ they say the honey of his eyes is a blessing of its own. ❞

Keep reading

[astralisgossip]

why do i get the feeling zol is secretly a kinky bastard...

“I get the feeling you aren’t wrong. Why don’t we ask Jacqueline? Those two seem to be thick as thieves, I’m sure they’ve swapped cum shot stories.”

( @rcsewatrs / @thenxghtwemet )

[rcsewatrs]

[ocean-eyeslnrp]

@ahqstart​

In a circle of trees, where the starlit sky above was framed perfectly by the branches reaching out, Mahina sat in the center staring up at them with her brows drawn together. Counting the stars and searching for the different constellations but her eyes would wander to the moon. How the trees stretched and reached for it but never quite made it. She sighed sitting up bathing in the beams for a moment of clearing her mind and thoughts. The silence around her nearly deafening.

The silence amplified the twig snapping along the perimeter of the circle. Her brows pulled together in concern. She hadn’t heard anything moving and now her concentration reached out further than it just the circle itself. Movement in the trees or any where on the horizon around her. Probably not the best idea to be out alone and she knew that, but she needed a moment to herself. 

“Whose there…” She forced out trying to hide the fear in her voice. “Show yourself right now.” She said searching her surroundings for any kind of weapon she might use that had been left to the flat dense earth below her bare feet. Well shit… she could always find herself in a shitty predicament and this was definitely not going to be the last time. When the figure finally stepped out she sighed, holding a hand to her chest. “If you were wanting to scare someone to death you accomplished it. I’m pretty sure my heart jumped out into my throat and out of my mouth and took off toward the nearest sea border.”

[rcsewatrs]

there hardly was a night ikora ever didn’t find herself making a head count of sorts, and all primarily thanks to one person ― mahina. for as long as she’d known her, the healer had been galivanting off on whims ikora often found herself mirroring, albeit the roles being reversed in exactly who messed with who. normally the wild hunt’s third would find herself on the receiving end of any manner of pranks, enjoying them all the same as she mulled over how to get back at mahina. this time however? she’d finally managed to snag an opportunity at scaring the ever living shit out of the other woman ― something far too good to pass up, if she pulled it off right.

the only problem? ikora was many things, yet sneaky was not one of them.

from the moment she spotted mahina attempt to slip out of view, she’d practically dropped her conversation with lucien and bounded off towards the tree line as quickly as she could. grateful that fall had yet to fully descend upon the land, the absence of leaves created ample opportunity for ikora to pick up her pace ― by the time she arrives at the small clearing mahina seemed to be settling in, she was already debating on how exactly to get back at her.

still, ikora’s plans are somewhat foiled in the midst of it; pondering whether to approach from above or the side, a single misstep upon a fallen branch echoes a snap throughout the area and immediately draws her own regrets and mahina’s attention. freezing on the spot, ikora silently curses the heavens for her unluckiness in such a manner, before sighing gently and stepping out of the shadows. “ bravo, you got me- “ raising her hands as if to clap in feigned appreciation, her eyebrow cocks with a glimmer of interest at the notion ― at least she had done something right, even if it wasn’t exactly her plan to a point. “ ikora: 1, mahina: 0. “ snickering playfully, she pumps her fist against her side before leaning against a nearby tree, motioning towards her with her chin. “ consider it payback! “

[rcsewatrs]

―MEET 𝙄𝙆𝙊𝙍𝘼

&&. cauldron above, ( ikora reid ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( she ) is/are affiliated with ( the wild hunt ). ( she ) is a(n) ( 422 / appears 31 ) year old ( wild hunt fae ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( lupita nyong’o ). ( she ) has been said to be ( courageous & protective ) but also quite ( headstrong & vengeful ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( third in command / military advisor of wild hunt ).

                       ― ❝ she is a lion in a wolf’s body. ❞

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 .

full name ; ikora reid

age ; 422 years

birthdate ; july 19

allegiance ; the wild hunt

species ; wild hunt fae

occupation ; third in command / military advisor

sexuality ; bisexual

𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 .

bellowing dust and laughter — that is her life from the moment she is born, no room for dainty figures or pleasant curtsies when ikora is a wolf among sheep. the youngest of three siblings, she fights for her right to succeed as competition surrounds her at all sides; but she don’t shy away from it, no, she relishes in it. they soon learn that despite her being born last, ikora is far from weak — outspoken and independent even from an early age, she allows nothing to stand between her and her prized destination; regardless if it is a battle, or something more.

she is young and full of life, the sun’s flames seeming to drive her very life force, her heartbeat pounding against the timid fluttering of others. her pack is her life, the only ones who ever could truly match her brazen spirit, and ikora finds it humoring at the mere fragility of so many other fae — how could they be content akin to glass? that with the slightest flick of a finger their house of cards might come tumbling down? she is a blatant woman, hardly one to sugarcoat despite the occasional cruelty of the truth; after all, to lie to one’s self is to live without honor — and honor, as ikora had learned, was merited by actions.

still, lack of experience renders her pointed and often headstrong to a fault — mercy was hardly given to those who threatened her found family, and it was difficult to convince ikora to ever turn away once she had a plan in mind. yet how humoring it was that all it took was a boy to alter her course — a boy with eyes the color of sea glass, a boy destined for the throne. lucien. for her usual bright attitude, often did ikora hide feelings of loneliness that plagued her; and yet it was if this boy, figuratively and literally, held out his hand for her to take. they were kindred spirits, fueled by their willingness to succeed in their roles in life, and to bring their pack to greatness. for once in ikora’s life, she found someone who could match her next to none — and it felt amazing. growing closer as time went on, the two were practically inseparable at the hip at any moment the boy wasn’t away studying or the like.

it was idyllic, it was peaceful, it was home.

lucien’s ascent to the throne did not come as a surprise to ikora, and she swears there has never been a moment filled with more pride in her entire life. his most staunch supporter, it still comes as a surprise when he appoints her his third in command and acquired military advisor — she’d never been a fan of court policies and the game of secrets most nobility seemed to play, but war? war was her utmost forte, and above everything she’d see her pack to victory.