#lepinedoree

[thenxghtwemet]

@lepinedoree​

The spymaster took pride in seeing what others could not. His was an observant eye and an intrinsic instinct, one he had instilled into each of his spies. But there was nothing subtle or nuanced about the events that unfolded. The pain afflicted to the Night Court’s lord spurred bloodshed. There was nothing sensible or thoughtful about it. Instead, it was the anger that simmered beneath the surface, coaxed out by a speck of a human looking to make their mark. His breathe barely caught as the fight began, slowly and then all at once. His companion for the evening, rushing away from his side. Calliope was as dutiful to the Spring as he, and her ability to heal would support Kuzey and his troops well. Noel pushes aside the concern, instead following the sights to the defenseless residents of Avalon City. The nobility would have their support and their power. But the spectators and competitors, some of whom had never seen battle, would surely need help.

While Noel wasn’t much of a swordsman, his training under James’ tutelage allowed him to hold his own. His movement was slower, as he dove into the belly of the beast, but precise and thoughtful. A great number of innocents appeared lost, simply wishing to avoid the fray. He attempted to shepherd a good few out of the line of fire, but the sound of a distinct scream stops him cold. His chest tightened, as a hardened expression turned towards the sound. It was Calliope. Even from afar, the color of her blue and purple dress was unmistakable. As was the sound, so terrible in its wake. Noel moves to the fray, avoiding the combative swings of Spring’s enemies. The memorobilia of the Spring Court, doing little to disguise his allegiance. His heart pounds as he finds his way through, stopping just short of Calliope as he watched a glaze in her eyes. Lost and entrapped, in something he could not understand. Yet his eyes look past hers, as he spots it -- the unmistakable blood and the curb of her leg. “Calliope,” he whispers at first, before dropping to is knees as he grasped her shoulders. “Calliope!”

[thenxghtwemet]

@lepinedoree​

It was everything he imagined the Duchy’s home to be. A sun-soaked, expansive estate with intricate greenery that could rival the Deerling’s epitome of an English garden. There’s a meditative calm, being so far away from Avalon City and the hardships that lingered within the palace walls. It was not easy coming back from Highwinds Glen. The terror and brutality that ensued, ridding them of great men and women alike. The turbulent few weeks, only reinforcing the political unrest. And yet, somehow, there was nothing but a macabre silence between the courts. A silent understanding that the events were too gruesome, to sully with politicking and the like.

There was hesitance in accompanying Calliope to her estate. The plan was made long before the chaos, and he felt compelled to remain in the palace. But truly, what could he do? It would be unwise to release his spies into rival courts, after all that occurred. Not to mention, an act of disrespect. All Noel could do, was bid his time and help Calliope on her journey. The travel took a day’s time, with the first two days filled with uneventful tasks. It was calming, to simply be. And yet, there was a tension that hung heavily in the air. The matter of their kiss, when the world was going to proverbial hell, left unaddressed. Of course, they still spoke; about the books they were reading, matters of the estate, and even about the friends that remained in the palace.

But not once, about what had transpired. It was late into his third evening at the estate, and sleep was out of reach. He wasn’t a fae of the Night Court, yet he always took to the evening. There was a comfortable solace to it. The spymaster left the guest bedroom, wearing his sleep shirt and trousers, as he turned into the drawing. A roaring fire, not yet snuffed, and the glasses of wine they had sipped on prior to adjourning to bed. He pauses, promptly, as he hears the gentle footsteps coming from behind him. The perfume and oils hit his nose, and he can sense Calliope lingering at the door. “I thought I’d find something to read. Can’t sleep, I’m afraid.”

[thenxghtwemet]

@lepinedoree

There was an art to knowing what others did not. In great part, it was a skill honed over decades (if not centuries) of trial and error. But there was a component to knowing that could not be taught -- intuition. An observant nature that was so in touch with the hearts and minds of its subjects, it bordered on perverse. Be it a close friend, or the subject of a duplicitous con. Within the spectrum, the Duchess Bisset fell somewhere in the middle. A closer confidant than most, but not one he would consider entirely innocent. The spymaster had witnessed the rise and fall of her romance with the High Lord. Although neither was the subject of his pursuits, it could not be helped. Ares was his trusted King, while Calliope had become a cornerstone of the inner court herself.

The pair found themselves seated in the wild gardens of the Deerling’s castle, with hot beverages served and a tower of immaculate sandwiches. There were few joys from his upbringing, but his enjoyment of silence and good food remained. The two had fallen into a pleasant discussion of the latest court gossip. Nothing too scandalous - a few ravenous affairs, newly-unearthed grudges, and the occasional deceit. Par for the course for nobility in Astralis. He considers his words carefully, lest he speak too abruptly. It was the curse of knowing -- it wasn’t an easy feat to reveal without cruelty. “Calliope,” Noel addresses her in finality, completing a sip of his hibiscus tea. “As much as I enjoy our chats, and I do... I think it’s best we speak of what’s truly important.” Leveling his sight with hers, he cannot help but smile in knowing amusement. “Shall I speak of it myself, or would you like to steer the conversation yourself?” He inquires courteously, a gesture few were privy to. But for the Duchess and her strained heart, he would make an exception.

[thenxghtwemet]

@lepinedoree​

"If I am to endure another loud-mouthed champion yelling in my ear, I might just fly into the nearest tree and do myself a favor.” It was a dramatic take, far from Noel’s typical short quips. But there was a comfort in Calliope’s earnest smile, and open disposition It welcomed an almost theatrical and emotional response, from the most contained of men. The day of the tournament was a frenzy, filled with endless fae looking for a chance at glory. Or, at minimum, to watch the daylight knocked out of fearsome competitors. But unlike the Beaumont-Wren wedding, the festivities lent itself to secrets. After all, it was not a diplomatic event, but a gathering of citizens and courtiers alike. The spymaster took the corners, unleashing his squadron of spies, and relegated his priorities. In the span of time, he unearthed many curious rumors; some true, some false, and some wildly exaggerated.

But when he found the Duchess, sitting primly under one of the tent canopies, with her fingers interlocked in needles... Well, it was an invitation for superior company. And after enduring the most profane and ridiculous of constituents, sorely needed. He settles in the seat beside her, examining the needlework. “Is that meant to be an English rose?” His brows fuss together quizzically, before reaching into the bowl of fruit and plucking a grape. With an impatient sigh, he adjusts himself in his seat, his eyes instinctively roaming the tournament sight. With a huff, he turns to Calliope pointedly. “Ares is relentless in his talk of my impending marriage. To who, and for what purpose... I have yet to discover.”

[thenxghtwemet]

@lepinedoree

The presence of outsiders on the sacred grounds of the Night Court felt peculiar at best, and disconcerting at worse. The highly private court shielded itself from the presence of the riffraff, save for trading days where their presence provided a substantial benefit. Tonight; however, centuries worth of tradition was broken in the name of a historic alliance. Change, it appeared, was inevitable. The presence of nymphs, wild hunt, and outer courts alike reminded Jacqueline of the new frontier that lay ahead. True to speculation, the Solstice was already invoking change. Whether it was good or bad, remained to be seen. The royal advisor flitted from one end of the room to another, acting the part of the gracious lady. Her cheeks were pink with flattery, on the heels of a concerto on the grand piano. The brunette spoke words of sweetness, gushing about the union’s fruitful gifts to the Night Court. She sang the praises of the new High Lady, whilst speaking highly of the Garden and Wild Hunt’s friendship. The act of deception was instinctive for her, to be certain. But even she sought relief, and circled towards the bar.

The familiar sight of Calliope Bisset sparked something akin to a knowing smirk. For centuries, the two women existed in the same circles. As the daughters of prominent Dukes in their respective kingdoms, it stood to reason that the pair would become acquainted during balls and festivals alike. There was little in the way of commonality between them. Calliope was all rose, and seemingly no thorns. With an endearing bright smile, a softness to her tone, and a kinship for plants -- she was the living embodiment of her foil. Their shared affair with High Lord, Ares, only solidified that. And yet... She could not bring herself to loathe her. At least, no more than she did most outsiders. Perhaps it was their shared upbringing, or intrigue towards a man for whom such an affair was doomed from the start.

“Lady Bisset,” Jacqueline coed, her smile sweet as she clicks her champagne flute with hers. “Lovely as ever. Are you enjoying the festivities?” It was not a friendship, yet Jacqueline felt herself more prone to honesty in her company. Or, at minimum, the simplicity of being direct. “It shan’t be long before the Spring Court hosts is own wedding, hm?” Taking a sip of her drink, her eyes are lit with a chaotic humor. “I imagine we’ll need a stronger drink when the time comes.”

[fatedfvllen]

the autumn court / a court of pumkins & bros

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more ...

             -To Autumn, J, Keats

{ @sangue-e-luce / @wickedgxmes​ / @lepinedoree / @gvldntrbl / @ocean-eyesahq }