❛ and i fell for the promise of a life with purpose. but i know that's impossible now. ❜
🐝 * ― 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑨 𝑷𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑬, 𝑴𝑶𝑴.
❛ That's usually how it goes. ❜ Muses Cardan with a slight tilt of his head before bringing the silver goblet filled to the brim with Faerie wine to his lips and taking a strong sip from it.
Whether the terms of the bargain require something as small and insignificant as someone's sweetest dream, or bloody and gruesome like a bucket of fresh, human skin every other week for a duration of time set by the Folk themselves, one thing is for certain; one way or another, it becomes more than the mortal can chew and said mortal is, near always, rendered in the Fae's service. He has seen it play over a thousand of times, like a broken stereo repeating the same tune. It is, after all, how most ― if not all ― of the mortals have come to occupy Elfhame, particularly in the Unseelie territory where they take special joy in first tormenting them, and then eating them. It is hard to tell which one they enjoy more.
Cardan had warned Gen about the dangers of bargaining with the Folk, and yet, they went ahead and did it either way. Mortals, he thinks with a scoff, it doesn't matter whether you show them the end result of their actions for they will scurry toward their demise like mice.
❛ And I suppose the reason why you're here is because you've come to discover that the hard way. ❜ States the Prince as soon as his goblet is empty of wine. A manicured brow raises towards them and he releases a long, drawn sigh before he continues; ❛ It would be pitiful of me to say that I warned you against it, but alas, I am very petty amongst other things and therefore I will say, as the mortal say goes, I told you so. ❜