Time: 12th of May, dusk Place: Undisclosed @princebrin
The hour grew late, the last vestiges of sunlight fading into the quiet stillness of the evening. To the few souls that passed her, she was nothing more than an indistinct shadow, a hazy impression, hidden beneath a cloak heavily inlaid with glamour. It had been a gift of an old suitor, an arresting, distinguished Seelie nobleman. He claimed it would trick even the most discerning eye, that it would bend unwanted, covetous gazes away. She had not been informed of his fate when her mother had deemed him unsuitable.
Whispers within the Court had been loud for the past few days - a secret meeting, an illicit rendezvous, a council of impending war. The promise of it burned like a flame inside her, a spark igniting in her veins - the promise of death, of retribution, of just comeuppance. A hundred variations of the truth had already reached her ears, but she only gave importance to one.
As if summoned by her thoughts, there he emerged from within the thick woods, a figure she would know even in the throes of death. His beauty was so vivid it stole air and sight, the light of the moon shining down on them a pale mimic of his true resplendence.
“Brín, my Prince!” Maeve, bright-eyed and eager, rushed up to him, clinging onto the sleeve of his shirt, expression glowing.
“Tell me your news. Are we off to War?”