𝚂𝙴𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚂 / eyes .

𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃𝚈 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻 ⸻ 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽.

[sibusisiwe]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .    the  continent  welcomes  sibusisiwe  thaumas  of  adriata  ,  the  lady  of  the  summer  court  .  when  the  high  fae  is  glamoured  ,  she  bears  a  resemblance  to  kylie  bunbury  .  the  30  +  555  year  old  cis  woman  is  reputed  to  be  nurturing  and  enterprising  ,  but  a  decade  of  war  has  left  them  rancorous  and  scathing  .  if  created  by  the  cauldron  ,  they  would  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  shards  of  sea  glass  embedded  in  the  depths  of  her  irises  ,  the  color  as  tumultuous  and  ever - changing  as  the  waters  that  surround  the  summer  court  ;  the  slender  figure  of  a  sprite  darting  through  the  crystalline  waters  warmed  by  the  sun  ,  milk - bone  white  locks  forming  a  halo  around  her  head  ;  that  same  sea  now  stained  red  and  littered  with  the  bodies  of  her  people  as  her  lungs  ingest  the  salty  sea  water  and  the  cooper  taste  of  blood  ,  now  linger  in  her  veins  like  a  steady  drumbeat  that  drives  her  towards  vengeance  .  whispers  throughout  prythian  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  the  summer  court  ,  where  they  conspire  to  ensure  that  the  losses  of  the  summer  court  are  paid  back  in  full  by  those  who  had  wronged  them  ,  present  allies  or  not  .

⸻    gdocs     ⸻    pinterest     ⸻    spotify     ⸻    tag    drop     ⸻

[speakingparts]

Tetsuo 1989 Shinya Tsukamoto

[ofwrxth]

War is nothing new to Leander. He was born for it, born to it and he has always felt more at home on the battlefield than off of it. Maybe it’s because one cannot show such brutal force in court. One cannot be all that they are in the midst of lords and ladies and courtiers but in combat, there are no masks. Just the unparalleled need to survive, to beat down those who might otherwise try to harm you. And he does. The Wolf of Winter. A name he’d received early on, his reputation for ferocity in a fight proceeding him wherever he went. By the end of the fight in the throne room, it felt like hours had dragged on, the fever pitch of it all still ringing in Leander’s ears as he makes his way down to the healing halls.

His ward, it seems, had been lucky, an ash arrow only skimming their leg. And though Lee is concerned about their well being, even if he loathes to admit it, it’s the blade in hand that draws him near. He’d heard rumors that the lady of Summer was lingering in the halls and he has something of hers. Already he’s been to see his ward once today and now, hours later, he returns. Sisi is easy enough to spot, sitting beside his ward with watchful attentiveness and a type of quiet calm that Lee’s never been shown. No…their interactions are anything but quiet or calm. A spark of ire igniting between them for no reason at all. He stands in observation for a moment, idly twisting the blade in his hand as he watches her tend to the younger fae, pouring over them with care, dark hair loose as she offers them water and a kindness Lee has never known how to show himself. After all, his hands are not meant for gentle things.

When she turns, a smile alighting golden features, Lee is reminded of the days spent in each other’s company during the war. Unwittingly or not, he’d sought out that smile over those days of travel and though five days is barely a drop in the ocean of their long lives, he can easily recall each of them. The way he hadn’t been able to leave her for dead, despite logic compelling him to do so, and the way he’d kept watch while pained and restless sleep overtook her. The way arms wrapped around each other in the dead of winter, clothed bodies providing heat and nothing else. And he can recall the way, after it all, she’d not given him a second glance. A curt thank you all he received before the walls went up again.

Now, as her smile fades, twisting into annoyance, his only grows, amusement quirking his brow as he looks down at her. Lee resists the urge to brush back a stray tress from her face and shakes his head. “Always so defensive, Sibusisiwe,” her name rolls off his tongue like a taunt and he nods at her shoulder, grin growing. “You must loathe that shoulder for how well you treat it.” He’d bandaged it once before, practical and without much gentleness, in part because they hadn’t time to be gentle, and in part because he’d found their proximity at the time uncomfortably disorienting. Each brush against warm skin had set cold nerves alight, a feeling he can recall even years later. 

Leander clears his throat after a beat and huffs a laugh as he glances at his ward, fast asleep with the aid of healing drafts and magic. “Unfortunately.” He’s not sure what they are but he can’t deny the care he carries for the younger fae, even if he acts the opposite. A moment later, his gaze drifts from the sleeping youth back to Sisi with a playful glint in his blue eyes. Leander twists the blade in his hand expertly, before extending it with the hilt proffered to Sisi. “And I believe this belongs to you, my lady. It’s poor form to lose a weapon.” Because he can’t simply just hand it over. “Though, I suppose I should thank you.” He’d come across the blade in his ward’s hand when he’d found them injured. And he’d held onto it because…well, he supposes for this reason. His fingers still gripping the hilt to the point she’d have to make contact if she wished to take it back.

[sibusisiwe]

meeting  him  upon  that  small  spit  of  blistered  land  on  the  edges  of  winter  and  summer  had  shifted  her  entire  world  on  its  axis  ─  staggered  with  the  lost  of  her  entire  squadron  against  hybern,  the  sight  of  leander  kachrylion  standing  upon  the  hill  that  she  had  crawled  on  her  belly  to  scale  had  filled  her  with  a  sense  of  lingering  dread,  anything  stronger  smothered  by  the  exhaustion  in  her  limbs.  sibusisiwe  had  been  so  certain  that  she  would  rather  taste  the  cold  bite  of  death  than  beg  for  assistance  from  one  of  them  (  traitors  to  the  continent,  the  lords  of  night  and  winter  and  autumn,  no  matter  their  shifting  allegiance  in  the  middle  of  the  war  )  but  as  her  vision  had  blurred  from  the  lost  of  blood  and  a  lack  of  sustenance  in  her  body,  only  one  word  had  escaped  her  lips.  when  she  had  roused  next,  a  fire  had  been  built  and  her  shoulder  haphazardly  bandaged  over  her  leathers,  the  wound  healed  enough  to  cease  the  constant  flow  of  crimson,  but  she  had  not  shown  him  an  inch  of  gratitude  then,  hissing  at  his  offer  to  share  the  warmth  and  wedging  herself  against  the  furthest  corner  of  camp,  stubbornly  enduring  the  cold  rather  than  admit  that  she  needed  his  help.  (  once  had  been  enough  and  even  that  had  been  under  duress.  unfortunately  for  the  both  of  them,  sibusisiwe  had  been  lucid  enough  to  make  their  five - day  journey  even  more  difficult.  )

her  teeth  had  been  chattering  come  morning  and  to  save  him  from  uttering  something  smart,  she  had  begrudgingly  asked  for  assistance  to  tie  her  hair  up  and  away  from  her  face  ─  the  dance  had  continued  for  the  duration  of  their  lengthy  trek  towards  base  camp,  her  poisonous  barbs  and  his  casual  disregard  for  anything  she  had  thrown  his  way,  the  tension  between  them  as  tight  as  a  length  of  elastic  stretched  too  thin  and  just  about  to  snap.  the  nights  had  been  quieter,  though,  the  cold  dragging  her  closer  to  his  side  out  of  a  desire  not  to  freeze  in  her  sleep  and  the  panicked  dreams  of  finding  the  bodies  of  her  father  and  sister  amidst  the  carnage  in  the  summer  court  had  not  plagued  her  mind,  head  cushioned  against  his  arm  when  she  woke  in  the  morning.  sibusisiwe  knew  that  she  had  allowed  him  too  close,  had  become  too  dependent  on  him  after  just  five  days  together  so  cruelly,  she  had  pushed  him  away  when  civilization  had  been  reached  ─  that  had  been  easier,  safer,  compared  to  acknowledging  the  blossoming  fondness  in  her  chest.  as  she  stared  up  at  him  through  the  curls  that  obstruct  her  vision,  she  was  struck  with  how  much  she  had  missed  biting  at  him.  ❝  something  about  you  wintry  fuckers  always  gets  on  my  nerves,  but  you  know  that  better  than  most.  ❞  the  implication  that  she  disliked  him  the  most  out  of  his  family  would  hurt  had  he  not  known  the  truth  of  it.  leander  had  always  received  considerably  less  vitriol  from  her  than  most  others  and  it  was  a  fact  that  he  never  allowed  her  to  forget.  the  insults  rolled  off  him  like  water  upon  the  back  of  a  duck  and  unwillingly,  she  felt  the  corners  of  her  mouth  lift  at  his  nod  towards  her  shoulder,  almost  pleased  that  he  remembered,  that  he  was  acknowledging  that  time  they  had  spent  together.

the  cauldron,  the  mother  and  leander  too,  it  seemed,  knew  that  she  would  not.

❝  hardly  intentional.  better  an  injured  non - dominant  arm  than  anything  else.  ❞  hungrily,  her  gaze  trailed  over  his  body  under  the  pretense  of  searching  for  any  healing  wounds  ─  while  she  was  concerned  for  his  well - being,  a  fact  that  almost  made  her  grimace  when  she  realized  it,  it  had  been  some  months  since  they  had  last  encountered  each  other  and  she  wanted  to  see  where  he  had  changed.  she  was  more  familiar  with  the  commander,  grizzled  and  no - nonsense,  but  as  her  eyes  caught  on  the  shift  of  his  muscled  arms  beneath  the  tunic,  she  could  not  help  but  admire  the  lord  that  he  was  as  well.  she  returned  her  gaze  to  the  slumbering  fae,  softness  gentling  the  defensiveness  in  her  features  for  a  moment  ─  in  the  heat  of  battle,  her  memory  had  recognized  them  as  someone  to  be  protected  and  it  was  no  wonder.  they  had  been  alongside  leander  during  the  war,  a  shadow  that  fixed  his  armor  and  polished  his  sword.  sibusisiwe  had  teased  him  about  needing  a  servant  to  do  such  things  but  even  she  had  seen  the  kindness  he  had  extended  to  the  younger  fae  when  no  one  else  had.  the  glint  of  the  dagger  beckoned  her  attention,  sea - blue  hues  watching  as  he  maneuvered  the  blade  with  ease,  prompting  something  that  seemed  too  close  to  desire  to  twist  at  her  stomach  in  response.  

❝  ...  that  is  right.  this  one  is  your  responsibility  ...  it  is  poor  form  to  lose  your  ward,  leander.  ❞  his  words  were  thrown  back  at  him,  a  wicked  smile  curving  at  her  mouth  as  a  plan  formed.  ❝  i  suppose  as  guardian  over  this  one  ...  you  owe  me  a  debt  for  returning  them  to  you  unharmed.  ❞  the  life - debt  that  she  had  owed  him  had  never  been  settled  ─  sibusisiwe  allowed  the  false  idea  that  the  tensions  growing  from  that  debt  had  connected  them  in  a  way  that  she  could  not  explain  but  she  knew  that  even  if  the  debt  was  dissolved,  she  would  always  be  drawn  to  him.  ❝  does  that  mean  i  no  longer  have  to  pretend  that  i  enjoy  your  company  ?  ❞  a  hand  extended  towards  the  blade,  warm  fingers  closing  over  the  hilt,  skittering  back  slightly  when  she  brushed  against  his  cool  skin  but  then,  growing  more  bold,  she  seized  the  hilt  entirely,  resting  her  palm  atop  his  fingers,  her  thumb  brushing  against  the  back  of  his  hand.  ❝  are  you  going  to  give  it  to  me,  lee,  or  should  i  wrestle  it  from  you  ?  ❞ 

(  mother  above,  was  she  flirting  with  him  in  the  healing  halls  ?  she  hoped  no  one  she  knew  was  watching  them  or  she'd  never  heard  the  end  of  it  from  her  sister.  )

[sibusisiwe]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞  …  the  healing  halls,  under  the  mountain  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  …  leander  kachrylion  (  @ofwrxth  )

if  there  was  one  thing  that  she  had  learned  after  enduring  a  decade  of  war  and  emerging  with  most  of  her  sanity  in  place,  it  was  that  life - debts  were  best  avoided  if  one  did  not  want  to  end  up  beholden  to  someone  that  might  one  day  prove  to  be  an  enemy.  she  had  made  it  a  point  to  resolve  any  obligations  that  had  been  carried  over  from  wartime  into  the  present,  offering  to  do  the  same  for  anyone  who  was  similarly  indebted  to  her,  but  sibusisiwe  had  not  expected  to  be  faced  with  settling  more  life - debts  in  the  near  future,  though  the  chaos  that  had  unfolded  in  the  throne  room  dictated  otherwise.  the  lady  of  the  summer  court  knew  better  than  most  that  the  high  fae  of  prythian  could  be  as  unpredictable  as  blades  of  grass  swaying  in  the  wind,  easily  persuaded  from  their  beliefs  if  offered  enough  power  or  land  or  coin  (  in  this,  the  fae  were  not  so  different  from  their  mortal  counterparts  )  and  something  as  brittle  as  their  ❛  shared  goal  ❜  of  peace  for  the  continent  could  be  very  quickly  dismissed  in  favor  of  a  better  offer.  she  was  almost - certain  that  those  that  had  gathered  in  the  sacred  middle  ground  in  a  genuine  desire  to  see  the  treaty  fulfilled  had  been  betrayed  by  those  that  had  received  a  promising  alliance  from  hybern  though  she  knew  that  tossing  such  allegations  around  would  sooner  earn  the  summer  court  the  ire  of  everyone  under  the  mountain.

though  a  small  part  of  her  longed  to  take  some  vindictive  sense  of  delight  in  having  her  pessimism  validated  by  what  had  occured,  she  was  only  filled  with  a  sense  of  dread  as  the  bodies  were  gathered  and  the  dead  were  identified  ─  she  had  squeezed  her  siblings  close  to  her  side  in  the  days  that  had  followed  and  when  she  had  been  given  a  clean  bill  of  health,  she  had  lingered  in  the  healing  halls  to  speak  to  the  soldiers,  left  arm  still  wrapped  in  a  sling  to  keep  from  jostling  her  shoulder  unnecessarily.  sibusisiwe  had  come  across  a  familiar  young  fae  during  those  visits,  recognizing  their  waned  features  from  when  she  had  pulled  them  away  from  certain  death  and  pressed  one  of  her  remaining  blades  into  their  palm,  instructing  them  to  stay  down  and  stay  safe  before  she  had  moved  to  confront  the  naga.  though  her  father  would  disapprove,  she  waved  away  any  mention  of  the  life  debt,  choosing  instead  to  keep  them  company  for  most  of  the  morning  while  they  waited  for  the  healers  to  release  them  from  the  sick  tents.  

the  younger  fae  had  just  drifted  off  into  a  fitful  rest,  their  brow  furrowed  with  dreams,  when  a  shadow  darkened  her  view,  looming  from  behind  her.  ❝  here  to  check  on  them,  healer  ?  they  just  fell  back  to  sleep  but  i  made  sure  that  they  had  enough  to  drink  before  that.  ❞  assuming  that  it  was  the  usual  healer  that  attended  to  the  injured,  sibusisiwe  turned  with  a  small  smile  that  faded  as  she  recognized  the  man  that  stood  behind  her,  surprise  coloring  her  features.  leander  kachrylion  was  one  of  the  only  fae  that  she  considered  herself  indebted  to  after  he  had  happened  upon  her,  stranded  somewhere  between  their  two  courts,  and  had  aided  to  bind  her  fractured  shoulder  (  the  same  shoulder,  coincidentally,  that  now  ached  with  a  faebane - laced  wound  ),  guiding  her  to  back  to  the  base  camp  over  the  course  of  five  days.  

❝  ...  kachrylion.  to  what  do  i  owe  the  displeasure  ?  ❞  after  all  they  had  shared,  the  blood  they  had  spilled  and  the  lives  they  had  both  taken  and  mourned  together  during  the  war,  he  deserved  a  warmer  greeting  but  sibusisiwe  knew  better  than  to  let  him  near,  unwilling  to  rehash  what  had  transpired  between  them  in  the  war - torn  countryside  as  he  sought  to  keep  them  both  alive  in  spite  of  her  stubbornness.  ❝  does  this  one  belong  to  you  ?  ❞

[ines-montalvan]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 : closed ! @sibusisiwe​ ( sisi & tristan )

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : aggressively strumming for his life, tristan broke down his lute wiping in an epic performance which sisi catches - tossing this bard a sword so he might survive to play again ( on what who knows bye bye lute )

The Black Flame had saved his life, chaos swirled with sputtering deaths, screeching birds and high fae pummeling themselves against a line of dark beings that smelled of foul stench and heavy iron, flavoring the air with sharp notes of gore mixed among sweat. Still, Tristan played. Was it some how that he was magic? It sure as this shit was not the case, Tristan thought ironically trying to strum his prized lute aggressively across the field of battle in this confined space under the mountain. Get to safety, get free grab whoever was smart enough to escape and avoid the beings that would either eat him or attempt to throw an innocent human into the large pot of death water. Was that here? If it was you would not find the mortal anywhere near it if it could be avoided. He liked his bits where they were and the thought of supposedly dying and being reborn was not pleasant. If he wanted to die he would not be playing so hard and in time to the rhythm of the fighting to be some form of distraction and still remain unnoticed. “It’s alright Wynstan, just keep down, i’ll stop as soon as we can slip free.” He said between chords praying to the mother a string wouldn’t snap, sending a sharp chord of disharmony to snap attention to him. A little head, still white having hidden early in the pack Tristan wore popped out to look around the bedlam. Tristan played and the small ferret made little squeaks as the bard avoided death. Yet, incredible luck always ran out for a Hao. It had been his father’s luck to try and pick pocket the wrong human noble that landed him in chains, his mother arguably had the worst taste in men and Tristan once before had made an awful bargain. Things had been looking up, he’d kissed a night court mercenary and enjoyed it, had encounters with a terrifying woman and gotten smacked in the head with a flying book. Alright fine, Tristan while strumming, plucking and smacking his lute for dear life had not had the best of luck or recent experiences his life was not flashing before his eyes yet. This was a win. This was a win and what the absolute - cauldron boil him.! 

There was a roaring, a blood curdling, spine chilling snarl - and the shrill cry and sudden frantic movements of the pet he kept in his pack. Somewhere between a bar of the immortal tune from an ancient spring court bard and the battle cry from the bards plant & page, wynstan scrambled for dear life out of the bag. Some vicious, salivating creature that appeared as if it had crawled free from a nightmare cleaving its way out into reality thought to make a quick meal out of the talented little creature. At the sudden scurrying to leave what was a protected place concealed from the battling, at Wystan’s panicked movements to flee scaling Tristan with desperate shrieking sounds it was instinctual. Fingers stopped hurried plucking abruptly cutting off the ballad, choking the melody the moment Wynstan dipped into the front of his tunic swinging. Foul beast descended and with great force and a blinding rage the bard’s lute slammed soundly into the cranium of the monster sure to have ended wystan if given a chance. If there were a more rational, cognitive moment than to purely protect his dear pet, Tristan would’ve screamed at the utter obliteration of the instrument that had been so finely crafted, paid with good money that earned him a pretty penny and a place within the autumn court. That was a part of himself. Still he saw red, fueled by most natural response of the man he used to be when sword was in hand. The dark creature stumbled back dazed with pieces of wood and string embedded in it before Tristan charged it stabbing what was left of a neck to his instrument through the soft parts watching it die, dropping it to the ground in a heavy thud. feeling the terrified shuddering from the poor animal that hid in his shirt now. 

“Get in the pack, Wynstan.” He sharply chastised the the animal who obeyed immediately scurrying back to the pack as Tristan swore, the spray of blood from dark beast covering him, wiping it away from his face. “That was my best lute and nearly the best performance of my life and no one saw it. No extra nibbles for you now we are going to die. Who will put up with you then, ferret?” He stated moving to pull the sharp piece of wood from the neck of the creature. Here as hoping he’d survive to deny the pet anything or afford a new lute. What good was a bard without it - now all he leaned back into was his training and a lot of good a sharp stick would do.

[sibusisiwe]

the  contradictory  tune  had  first  been  noticed  as  she  had  faced  one  of  the  puca.  the  desire  to  find  her  younger  sister  had  been  bubbling  beneath  her  skin  and  had  made  her  an  easy  target  for  the  dark  fae  but,  as  she  was  nearly  entrapped  in  the  illusion  spun  by  the  creature,  a  disharmonious  chord  tugged  at  her  hearing,  forcing  a  grimace  to  her  features  and  breaking  the  false  imagery  of  her  sister,  arms  outstretched.  (  she  knew  her  sister,  had  been  there  when  their  mother  had  swelled  with  life  and  labored  in  the  water  until  izara  had  been  born,  had  been  the  first  after  their  father  to  hold  the  baby  in  her  arms  and  had  been  there  ever  since.  she  knew  her  sister  and  the  creature  before  her  was  not  the  youngest  daughter  of  summer.  )  with  a  snarl,  sibusisiwe  had  squeezed  her  eyes  shut  before  thrusting  her  spear  outwards  in  warning,  grateful  that  the  puca  had  chosen  to  run  rather  than  pursue  her  because,  even  with  her  iron - will,  she  knows  that  she  could  never  raise  a  weapon  to  something  that  bore  the  face  of  her  sister.

with  a  coppery  warmth  on  her  features  and  a  tremble  in  her  fingers,  sibusisiwe  turned  to  locate  the  bard  who  had  been  foolish  enough  to  bring  a  lute  to  the  fight,  catching  the  moment  when  strong  arms  swung  the  instrument,  connecting  wood  with  the  ugly  features  of  the  enemy  ─  once,  to  confuse  the  beast,  and  then  again,  ending  the  life  of  the  attacking  creature  with  a  vicious  stab  that  brought  a  brief  smile  to  her  features,  half - impressed  with  the  bard.  senses  narrowed  in  on  the  male,  blinking  slightly  as  his  rapid  heartbeat  and  scent  marked  him  as  a  mortal  rather  than  another  fae  and  as  he  whispered  something  harsh  to  someone  (  a  rat  ?  a  flash  of  white  darted  from  the  front  of  his  shirt  to  the  pack  quicker  than  sibusisiwe  could  decipher  what  type  of  rodent  it  was  ),  she  strode  forward,  breaking  in  stride  only  to  pick  up  a  sword  from  one  of  the  fallen  before  she  called  out  to  him.

❝  bard  !  ❞  catching  his  complains,  she  grinned,  turning  the  sword  in  her  grasp  until  she  could  throw  it  to  him,  hilt - forward.  ❝  i  might  not  have  witnessed  it  with  my  eyes  but  your  tune  saved  my  life  against  a  puca.  ❞  rather,  it  had  been  a  bad  chord  that  had  startled  her  out  of  the  stupor  but  there  was  no  need  to  tell  him  that.  ❝  the  summer  court  needs  a  new  bard,  as  it  happens,  and  i  will  be  more  than  pleased  to  put  in  a  good  word.  ❞  a  distant  growl  grew  louder  as  one  of  the  possessed  reached  them,  sun - kissed  skin  marking  them  as  someone  from  the  summer,  spring  or  autumn  courts.  ❝  if  we  get  through  this  ...  you  need  to  introduce  me  to  that  rat  in  your  bag  if  it's  worth  ruining  your  lute  over.  ❞  her  spear  raised  to  neck - level,  pointed  at  the  approaching  enemy.  ❝  look  sharp,  bard.  let's  see  what  you  can  do  with  a  proper  weapon.  ❞

[1042]

we return to each other in waves this is how water loves!!!!!!!!

[acvdemias]

“It is hard to stop loving the ocean, even after it has left you gasping.”

— Sarah Kay, The Type (via wordsnquotes)

[dcybrck]

closed for @sibusisiwe ! | deron han finds sisi during the attack.

the rage boiled heavy within his veins, each spray of blood felt intoxicating in a way that he spent so often repressing - locked away somewhere deep inside him. monstrous beast that resided in his chest, sternum and ribcage designed to be a prison to contain it, relished in the freedom deron granted it. the nymph had never needed magic to leave a path of bodies behind him. feral river creature rejoiced in the way he swung the steel in hand, a mimic to when he once swung hammer against the anvil. deron forged a path through the creatures that had separated him from the tether that kept him afloat, searching for brown eyes he knew would haunt him till the end of his days. but every time deron caught a glimpse of someone, it was never her. each lost chase was another rush of rage, another spray of blood left in his wake. 

from a distance, sea blue eyes catch a flicker of all too familiar stark white curls. sets direction for them like a ravenous wolf heading for a patch of sun bleached bones in hope that their may still be meat to scavenge. something protective rattles against the beast in his heart at the sight of sibusisiwe , as if reminding himself that she is never a foe. of the way the water had always welcomed her as if she was one of it's own children. teeth barred at the naga that attempts to harm her, using the distraction she unintentionally provided to slam the hilt of his blade into it's back. other hand stabs the dagger from his hip deep into his arm with a near feral snarl of teeth. his gaze lifts from the naga, chest heaving as his unsteady breath comes out in brief pants. eyes meet hers, soften instinctively a bit at the sight of her like this. a far cry from the young fae that dipped her feet in the water, laughing at the jokes the wraiths would whisper to her.

" you're welcome," he manages to say, blade removed from the naga and steps taken to close the distance between the pair. " you shouldn't stay here. unless you desire to become a feast for these serpents?" the jest is easier to manage in this moment than any poetry he may attempt to foolishly wax in concern for her. words would not save her from the jagged maw of a creature, but his steel raised in her defense may instead. 

[sibusisiwe]

the  summer  court  had  been  blessed  with  centuries  of  peace  since  the  high  king  fionn  had  passed  and  the  lands  had  splintered  into  the  seven  courts  now  known  to  fae  and  mortal,  and  it  was  into  this  peace  that  sibusisiwe  had  been  born  and  raised,  knowing  no  strife  beyond  petty  court  politics  and  the  occassional  unrest  from  local  water  wraith  colonies  until  she  had  travelled  to  hybern  as  an  emissary  of  the  summer  court,  bearing  witness  to  the  barren  conditions  and  the  archaic  traditions  still  practiced  when  it  came  to  mortals  and  the  fae  that  they  considered  lesser  than.  her  time  in  the  west  had  only  served  to  strengthen  her  appreciation  for  the  summer  court  and  the  understanding  that  had  been  shown  to  both  mortals  and  the  ❝  lesser  ❞  fae  but  because  of  their  tolerant  stance,  hybern  had  chosen  to  make  an  example  of  them,  turning  the  seas  red  with  the  bodies  of  the  summer  fae.  

she  had  never  forgiven  deron  for  disappearing  from  her  life  but  as  she  pulled  the  corpses  of  her  friends  from  the  waters  to  give  them  proper  burials,  she  was  grateful  that  he  was  spared  from  the  slaughter.  no  such  gratitude  shown  through  her  gaze  now,  however,  as  their  eyes  met  over  the  cacophony  and  if  she  twisted  her  spear  a  little  more  forcibly  into  the  gut  of  the  dark  fae  that  stood  in  her  way,  sibusisiwe  hoped  that  deron  would  take  that  as  a  warning  of  her  conflicting  emotions  upon  their  rather  unceremonious  reunion.  she  had  believed  herself  too  old  for  such  feelings  of  abandonment  but  the  treacherous  burn  of  salty  tears  at  the  corners  of  her  eyes  betrayed  her  even  as  she  faced  down  the  naga,  lips  curling  up  into  a  wicked  grin  as  deron  planted  his  dagger  into  the  arm  of  the  beast.  the  smile  remained  as  he  approached,  pushing  aside  the  desire  to  yell  at  him  for  not  bothering  to  write,  for  abandoning  her  for  the  night  court  of  all  places,  and  she  lifted  a  brow  in  amusement,  levelling  her  spear  towards  the  naga  as  it  made  a  threatening  move  forward.  ❝  and  leave  you  to  handle  it  alone  ?  your  old  bones  would  not  last  a  minute  without  me.  ❞  

(  so  much  unsaid.  she  hoped  he  could  sense  her  relief  at  seeing  him  well,  beneath  the  hurt  that  twisted  at  her  heart.  ) 

❝  come  on,  beastie  ...  we're  just  two  harmless  fae  with  only  our  blades.  where  are  your  other  beastly  brothers,  huh  ?  ❞  her  elbow  nudged  deron's  side  gently,  a  subtle  greeting  in  place  of  the  hug  and  walloping  she  wished  to  give  him  ─  cauldron  willing,  there  would  be  time  for  that  later.  the  naga  made  a  swipe  for  her  then  in  response  to  her  taunt  and  sibusisiwe  snarled,  jerking  forward  with  her  spear  to  lodge  the  tip  of  it  into  it's  side  before  pulling  back,  frowning  when  her  weapon  did  not  leave  the  flesh  of  the  creature  with  the  ease  she  had  expected.  the  naga  grabbed  onto  the  end  of  the  spear  skewered  into  it's  side  and  tugged,  intending  to  make  a  meal  of  her  if  it  was  going  to  die  by  her  blade.  ❝  der  - - -  ❞  a  frightened  whimper,  death  looming  ahead  as  she  turned  to  look  at  him  even  as  she  dug  her  heels  in,  determined  to  stay  alive.

[georgesofyork]

for: @sibusisiwe​

location: hall of arts

   Sixtus dearly liked to hear what Sibusisiwe had to say about books or paintings; for without the pretension of attempting to be a connoisseur, she always spoke with fresh clarity. She listened to his own thoughts in turn, kindly, sweetly. When she communicated her reply in turn, she spoke with lucid intelligence which afforded her words clarity, leaving them graven on memory. The snug comfort of such familiarity, of a companion so cheerful and friendly gave Sixtus a novelty thrill - small moments such as these, possessed a peculiar, exhilarating charm. “Do you find my latest commission a triumph, dear one? Afford your father an avenue for the sin of pride - I confess myself, its humble servant.” A portrait, as high as their sprawling ceilings, bore the visages of junos unrivalled in their times - marks, for all eyes. His daughters, in need of no ornamentation, met the gaze of all who viewed them with sweet sympathy; Sixtus’ believed them blessed with the divinest light. A hundred such paintings, would yet still compel him to commission a hundred more. 

  “Though it grieves me to envision such a future, I take great delight in the prospect of fashioning a gallery in the honour of children to come – are your interests in a mate still middling? I know you find more delight in thrilling ventures, which I neither fault you for, nor seek to dissuade; merely I plead for you to indulge me, in my romantic whims this evening. It is my pride in your present, which prompts me to meditate on your future.” 

[sibusisiwe]

the  softness  of  girlhood  had  long  since  melted  from  her  limbs  ─  in  place  of  that,  sibusisiwe  had  been  made  lean  and  weary  by  the  pains  that  she  had  witnessed  and  experienced  during  the  decade - long  war.  harshness  had  been  beaten  into  her  features  to  match  the  unsightly  and  still - healing  scar  that  stretched  from  her  left  brow  to  the  middle  of  her  cheek  and  though  she  had  assured  her  mother  that  the  rarity  of  her  smiles  was  to  keep  from  irritating  the  wound  further,  the  lady  of  the  summer  court  knew  that  there  was  simply  less  things  to  smile  about,  even  with  peace  slowly  trickling  back  into  the  continent.  still,  as  she  lingered  in  the  space  by  the  side  of  the  high  lord,  she  endeavoured  to  try  for  his  sake,  softening  her  sharp  gaze  as  he  invited  her  to  judge  his  latest  addition  to  their  hall  of  arts.  ❝  when  have  you  ever  known  failure  when  it  comes  to  matters  of  beauty,  papa  ?  ❞

be  it  in  art  or  in  music  or  even  in  the  preservation  of  their  temples  of  treasures,  sixtus  had  enriched  the  summer  court  throughout  his  long  reign  as  high  lord  and  had  instilled  an  appreciation  for  beauty  in  his  children,  each  harbouring  a  pride  in  their  home  that  bordered  lines  of  superiority  that  sibusisiwe  would  never  admit  to  possessing.  this  was  what  they  had  fought  so  hard  to  protect  ─  the  crystalline  glory  of  their  court  made  even  fuller  by  their  tolerant  viewpoints  and  open  borders,  inviting  an  influx  of  fae  and  mortals  with  their  beliefs  and  cultures.  (  this  was  why  hybern  had  decided  to  make  an  example  of  them,  storming  through  their  borders  from  the  seas  and  setting  fire  to  their  waters,  killing  their  people  by  the  thousands  all  while  the  high  lords  of  prythian  sat  idly  by  until  it  was  convenient  for  them  to  act.  )  swallowing  a  grimace  at  his  words,  she  turned  away  from  the  depiction  of  the  daughters  of  summer,  her  painted  features  unblemished  by  the  scar  that  now  marred  her  features.  ❝  if  i  seek  to  find  a  mate,  father,  it  would  not  be  from  the  night  court  as  you  so  ardently  wish.  i  could  not  find  happiness  there.  ❞  never.  she  had  been  willing  to  give  her  life  for  her  people  during  war  but  she  would  not  barter  with  her  morality  just  to  ensure  the  high  lord  of  the  night  court  remained  their  ally  ─  there  must  be  another  way.  

❝  ...  i  wish  to  remain  here,  by  your  side.  do  you  tire  of  me  so  quickly  that  you  would  see  me  sent  so  far  away  ?  ❞  it  was  an  attempt  to  soften  her  rebuttal,  turning  her  gaze  to  entreat  him  with  a  softness  that  few  others  could  invoke.  ❝  my  visions  for  the  future  do  align  with  yours,  papa,  but  i  do  not  believe  i  will  ever  be  ready  to  leave  home  or  you.  ❞  she  was  his  natural  heir  in  skill,  never  mind  that  she  had  an  older  brother,  so  how  could  she  marry  another  high  lord  and  leave  the  summer  court  ?  cauldron  willing,  her  father  would  live  to  see  his  grandchildren  and  great - grandchildren  but  if  the  unthinkable  happened,  then  sibusisiwe  would  not  sit  idly  by  while  her  older  brother  brought  ruin  to  their  court  with  his  incompetence.  ❝  besides  ...  our  alliance  with  the  night  court  needn't  be  cemented  by  my  marriage  ...  he  has  an  unmarried  sister  and  you  have  an  unmarried  son.  ❞

[unpunishablewoman]

i've never felt young lol i was 14 feeling like a three times divorced woman

[sounddesignerjeans-deactivated2]

when I was born my grandfather reportedly saw me and said “she’s been here before, and she’s not happy to be back”

[paulfrankjuliusthemonkey]

i want to scream very bad but i am being so normal and calm about it

[thirteenwrites]

ALL AMERICAN Season 1, Episode 10: m.A.A.d. city

[vickys]

Kylie Bunbury as Suhad in Tut (2015)

[sibusisiwe]

tag  drop    ⸻

𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐒   ⎈ ˚ 　· 　　 .    [    tag    ]    .

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𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐒   ⎈ ˚ 　· 　　 .    [    inspiration    ]    .

𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐒   ⎈ ˚ 　· 　　 .    [    aesthetics    ]    .

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