to @luneblush ( for ultan )
he knew that the world would be different when he finally shattered his bonds and clawed his way out of the dirt. time passed strangely in his prison; minutes that felt like lifetimes and centuries that ended in the blink of an eye. but he knew it had been a long time since they put him here, even before he saw the mortal realm.
it’s unrecognizable. filthy, polluted, crowded, a twisted mass of metal and hatred. where were the spring fae now, protecting nature and harmony and all the other shit they preached about? he can only sense a sliver of magic, a lifeline he follows, stumbling down stone-paved streets until he finds the source of it.
there are faeries behind this door. of which court, he doesn’t know, but does it matter? will anyone still fear him in this age? and most importantly—does he have any other choice? he pounds on the door until it swings open, relying on his last shreds of strength to stand straight and lift his hands peacefully in the air. "i mean no harm," ikki says, voice dry and raspy after millienia. "i only ask for shelter."