STARFORGED

SEREN Second of the Night Court Ancient One Starforged The devil once whispered in my ear, "You're not strong enough to withstand the storm." But today, I whispered in the devil's ear, "I AM the storm."

[xstarforged]

S E R E N - SECOND of the NIGHT COURT

‘The STARS created me, but I was forged by the NIGHT.’

BIO GOOGLE DOC  / ADVENTURES / PINTEREST / PRYTHIAN / STUDY

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .   the  continent  welcomes  SEREN  of  THE COURT OF DREAMS,  the  SECOND  of  THE NIGHT COURT.   when  the  ANCIENT ONE is  glamoured,  she  bears  a  resemblance  to  SOO JOO PARK.   the  32  /  ANCIENT  year  old  CIS-FEMALE  is  reputed  to  be  ANALYTICAL  and  DAUNTLESS,  but  a  decade  of  war  has  left  them  BLUNT  and  RELENTLESS.   if  created  by  the  cauldron,  they  would  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  ASTRAL EYES THAT BURN WITH THE FEROCITY OF A FALLING STAR; LONG WHITE HAIR THAT SPARKLES WITH THE ECHO OF THE CELESTIAL; THE WHISPER OF A BLADE AGAINST YOUR THROAT; PAINTED RED LIPS PULLED INTO HALF SMILES AND DAMNING SMIRKS; JUST LIKE THE MOON, HALF OF HER HEART WILL ALWAYS BELONG TO THE DARK; A MONSTER CONCEALED WITHIN A RAGING STORM THAT CLAWS AT BINDING TATTOOS; CAGED AND FORGOTTEN BUT NEVER LOST IN THE NIGHT; IF THE WORLD IS TO END THEN IT WILL FALL; STARLIGHT THAT BURNS.   whispers  throughout  prythian  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  THE NIGHT COURT,   where  they  conspire  to  PROTECT THE TREASURE THAT IS VELARIS AND ITS SURROUNDING NIGHT COURT TERRITORIES; & TO PERFORM HER DUTY, REGARDLESS OF THE COST, FOR THEIR HIGH LORD AND COURT.

[warbidden]

setting: amid the sudden chaos, the air turned fetid. monsters unmasked their red mouths like lacerated animals liberated of their collars of high fae skins. they howled and screamed while swiftly, they befell tragedy on man and faerie. in the carmine fury of a sea of warbringers were valerian and @xstarforged falling into the steps of the death waltz they were so used to. in the moment, they would discover the designs of the mother willed them as tentatively allies with @ofwrxth as their blades drew against each tide of resistance in synced, fluid motions.

“First to flay the naga buys the other a deer mount for their wall.” The quip fell naturally out his mouth. Had it not been Seren at his back, the banter would be the last thing on his mind. But because it had been Seren, there was no need for Valerian to specify who would likely be awarded the atrocious piece. Still, no matter how much he tried center himself, apprehension slipped into his syllables as he said to her, “How the fuck did we miss this?”

A loud screech of pain demanded the commander’s attention as he turned just in time to see two more nagas moving to flank the General of the Winter Court. While Valerian knew better than to come between a Lord and his kill, he also knew there was strength in numbers. With precision, he threw his sword up, effectively shielding other fae from the naga’s attack. Easily, the three of them fell into formation.

“Leander,” the acknowledgment was terse seeing as to how relations with the Winter court were…complex. “I truly hope this was not your doing.”

[ofwrxth]

Leander’s heart is a wardrum in his chest, pounding in a steady, forceful beat with each moment that passes. From the moment the mortal queen’s body hits the ground, time warps. It feels like he’s been fighting back all manner of dark creatures for an age, but also for mere minutes. He’s in search of his family and friends when a Naga nearly sinks its teeth into him were it not for an annoying familiar face. “Valerian,” he replies with a scornful smile, nodding at Seren beside returning his gaze to the Summer Court captain. “How astute. You know, it actually was my idea to unleash all manner of hell,” said as he moves to the left of an approaching naga, “while my entire court is still here.” Lee dodges an attack, both his blades crossed in a momentary shield as he snarks. “You’ve caught me out,” he rolls his eyes, drawing up his sword as another naga lunges towards them. “On your right!” The General calls a warning to Seren. @xstarforged​

[xstarforged]

“A deer? Really, Val?” Seren called out to Valerian’s earlier banter with a scoff and she rolled her eyes at the jibe. It may have been inappropriate to some for the old friends to trade quips in the middle of a battleground - yet, Seren welcomed it in the chaos. Valerian's dry wit, which she was long accustomed to and was inwardly fond of, helped soothe and distract her from the monstrous urges within. “That is one way to make me want to lose - how very cunning of you. I demand a much more predatory monster to hang on my walls when I win this game.” 

The Second of the Night Court grasped her two curved blades, designed to mirror the curving arc of the crescent moon, and seized the chance for a much needed breather. However, Leander’s voice - yelled with a true general’s tone - stirred Seren to motion and she managed to lift her blades in time to dodge a rampant naga’s strike. “Thank you, Leander - that was too close for my liking.” Complex, glittering eyes flickered towards Leander and her crimson lips, bloodied from her own cuts and from the splattering of enemies, widened into a smirk. “If you feel like joining in our game of senseless wit, Lee, then by all means. It's a competition of our total downed foes and your inclusion would certainly make the competition more thrilling.” 

It was comforting - and eerie - how easily the three of them flowed into formation. Like the ocean's wild currents, they were fluid and relentless; adapting to every movement of eachother. Each manoeuvre was a waltz of agility and death; agile and fluid like the elements. But in the careless moment of their poor-timed banter, a naga’s claws ripped across Seren’s forearm and she immediately recoiled with fury. There was nothing high fae in the ancient’s features when she beheld the aggressor; her features twisted with the icy coldness of the celestial as stark, crimson blood dripped from the ripped leather.

“We’re getting surrounded,” she hissed and she retreated a step towards her two allies, “any wonderful ideas in those pretty heads of yours? @warbidden & @ofwrxth

[azraehl]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞  …  the  throne  room  under  the  mountain  𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡  …  seren  (@xstarforged​​  )  and  the  attor

a wet wine red warmth matts curls to the head,      his cranium cracked against the marble.      grey skin is pulled taut to hide its insides,      ribs protruding in sickeningly unnatural ways.      the attor is crouched in the shadows above him,     carving deep into his flesh and threshing from him sculpted muscle.      the blood blossoms hot and thick from his chest.      he bares his teeth.      everything was blood and pain.      the pain weaves into a garland the shape of a noose      —      chiseling into him,      cutting,      serrating,      begging him to disappear.      it is at his ear with a sandstone cry,      its gaunt mouth sharp with rows of whet teeth:      ‘ you will die,      lord of night. ’.      the pain begins to bend,      separating body from need as his anger is polished like a knife.      the sable claws of its atrophied fingertips scrape the long flat bone of his sternum.      he grasps for power that is now an arid well,       a phantom of darkness that was once vast and tangible,      thunderous like the roar of wild armies.      the cathedral null,      his head is used to bludgeon,      temple bashed against calcified tissue until his skin is split above the brow.      the creature rears back with a carnal snarl,      wresting back a haggard limb in an action which unsteadies its cadaverous hull.      it is enough.      pale light glints off a honed claw that is poised to pierce,      to ferry him through an arresting death.      half his physique free of its pin,      he drives his weight upward,      propelled by a push on the sole of his fine leather boot.      as he is carried by the motion,      a dagger is drawn from the sheath at his calf.     he sinks the blade betwixt the ribs,      silver pooling at the abdomen,      flesh rent and spilling feverish viscera.      slit through the middle.      dagger embedded to the hilt,      it requires a graceless jerk to loose the weapon from its adversary,      argent mist spattering marred attributes.      he rolls to his feet,      jaw clamped tight at the afflictive stretch of his wounds.      adrenaline coils high in his gut.      his eyes are like sinkholes,      like death tessellated into moonlight as the attor circles him,      staggering,      holding in its glistening entrails with a pair of keen talons.      a predator now hesitant of its beast of prey.

[xstarforged]

‘You will die, lord of night.’ Those haunting words whispered through her mind and the pulsating tether, linked to her soul and heart, suddenly snapped through her like a whip of flame. The surrounding world faded into obscurity as hot, scorching agony burned through her awareness and when a phantom wound screamed through the ever-night which connected them, she moved. I am coming. I am coming. Her words echoed through the burning, pained link which united them. And she repeated each word like a prayer to the rhytmn of her pounding heart.

Seren weaved through the chaos and surrendered to every primal feeling inside her fleshy prison, channeling speed and haste through her body. Blurring across the chaos, it was as if she was formed from the light between the stars; a comet, trapped in the flesh, plummeted through the carnage and charged towards its target with deadly focus. Long white hair, sparkling with moonlight, flowed behind her like the streams of a war banner; it signaled her approach and there was nothing ordinary in her otherworldly eyes as she locked onto the monster. They glowed with a lethal promise. And deep within them awakened a herald of something older, yet her ancient powers of starflame laid out of reach, and she was forced to rely on the physical fury which surged through her glittering, ethereal veins. That was fine to Seren. She preferred a personal touch. She wanted to taste the monster’s fear and rippling agony. Dragging the weight of her two blades from her back ignited every sense in her cold fury. Because within her gaze was the promise of an icy death - not from the coldness that belonged to the natural ways of winter - but the numbing ice that existed between the stars. The icy grips of a power born from the abyss. As the wounded attor circled, seemingly unsure and visibly weakened after Azrael’s skilfully punishing response, Seren rushed forward to take advantage. She skidded across the marble floor, accelerating to a blurring speed, and lashed out with twin strikes - mirroring the arc of the crescent moon - and sliced across the attor’s lower back. She ceased her momentum with a carefully positioned flip and landed by Azrael’s side, swords stained with the monster’s foul stench.

Her gaze, unfaltering and relentless, briefly flickered towards Azrael and studied the bloodied brands which wounded his features. She reached out with a phantom touch and brushed a comforting warmth through their united threads. It demanded all of her willpower to resist the urge to reach out and brush a lock of his dark, thick hair from his eyes. She craved for his closeness. To feel him. But when the scent of his pain slammed into her, her crimson lips curled back, and she growled out a low snarl at the attor. Her entire being trembled with loathing.

“There will be nothing left of you when we are finished with you, fiend.”

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Under the Mountain; random sitting room/lounge.

TARGET: @wnterstcrms

DETAILS: Current timeline. REMADE and continued from ongoing thread due to tumblr formatting. <3

“I was wondering when I would have the pleasure of your company, Clove.” She purred out each word in a soft crooning voice, full of amusement and surprising warmth, as she trailed the other’s movements with a raised eyebrow. 

The ancient - usually motionless and unmoving, reflecting the void of darkness beyond the stars - seemed to uncoil from a heavy, burdening tension when her friend entered the vicinity. Becoming fluid, mirroring the changing faces of the ethereal moon, Seren visibly relaxed. No doubt the burden was from another day of frustrating politics, yet the evening was beginning to look brighter with the arrival of an old friend. There were definite benefits to the mountain’s summons - a chance to reunite with allies and reforge those solid, special bonds. 

“You are correct - I have never known you to shy away from anything extraordinary,” a genuine smile stretched across Seren’s features as she remembered the numerous events where Clove had proven that her knowledge, and her fascination with mastering knowledge, would triumph over common sense. Seren had always deeply respected Clove’s commitment to the pursuit of understanding and knowing more. When immortal, why not pursue that level of expertise? After all - knowledge will always be power. “In fact, I am sure you would keenly study any ghost or spectre that should cross your path. They would regret attempting to haunt you as you would make it an experiment.” 

The word ‘haunt’ prompted Seren to remember a distant memory - a beaming image of Clove’s marriage and of her late husband. An unusual feeling tugged at the ancient’s ethereal heart - remorse and compassion for Clove’s loss, and admiration for the strength she had portrayed over the centuries. Brushing those terrible thoughts away, Seren huffed out a chuckle at the other’s compliment, but a vain pleasure sparkled in Seren’s complex, cosmic eyes. “Why thank you, Clove, and you are looking as radiant as ever. Of course you may stay here - you always can with me,” she paused to study the other with a more intense scrutiny and dropped her voice to a softer tone - like the whispering touch of a caress; full of twilight's mysteries and the promise of an embrace, “and how have you found the last few days?”

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Under the Mountain; random sitting room/lounge.

TARGET: @stcrfrost

DETAILS: Current timeline. REMADE and continued from ongoing thread due to tumblr formatting.

It was impossible to ignore the impressive female when she entered the room. There appeared to be a confidence in each of those strides that prompted a small, appreciative smirk to tug on Seren’s crimson lips. Perhaps Veila’s degree of poise was forged from experience - the experience of a long, exhausting life - yet wisdom also seemed to grace her features. A cold wisdom. The rumours surrounding the Winter Court’s Second were positively intriguing. A ruthless killer. The previous High Lord’s ‘executioner’. And what was her function now as Second to the new High Lord? She was a worthy adversary, and no doubt, a worthy ally as well.

The ancient tracked each of Velia’s movements and openly studied her as she settled into the opposing armchair. Seren schooled her features into mild amusement, yet her strange, ethereal eyes were relentless in their scrutiny. Unashamedly open.

“Mm,” she hummed in response and angled her head to the side, allowing long strands of white hair to fall forward, “well - we all need to keep some company. Perhaps ghosts will suffice, yet I feel they would be poor conversationalists.” She paused to lift the glass to her lips and seized the opportunity to watch the other with further investigation, as she tasted the strong, maroon wine. “Ghosts haunt the damned; the more remorse a lost soul feels, the more they are haunted. So I have read in useless prose, yet you do not seem so lost to me.”  A wider smile spread across her features as she leant back into the chair. “How are you adjusting to your new High Lord and duties?” A simple question but layered with purpose.

[xstarforged]

location: night courts inner circle secret lair 

status: closed @ofthycourts

time: morning & set a week prior to 'the last act of war'  ( @ )

other: continued from original thread due to my tumblr formatting being bad

A small smile tugged on the edge of her lips at the sound of Malik’s soft chuckle - a sound that may seem out of place to the usually quiet and stoical shadowsinger; yet it was a prized sound to their mutual family and a sound she privately delighted in hearing. Laughter was too rare nowadays. He deserved to laugh; especially since he endured the burden of power, and remained the constant companion to those complex shadows he was so carefully explaining. A fearsome gift. Enigmatic, even to her, and always a curiosity. She bored a heavy, yet tender, gaze at the attentive shadowsinger she considered a brother.

“Danger?” She quoted the word, tasting its foulness, and her body instantly snapped to a straightened position. Every fibre of her being was alert as she focused in on that word and Malik’s troubling report. “Then we will be prepared for whatever danger may lurk in the unknown.” She growled out each word. As a witness to countless millennia of both war and chaos, Seren had always been a soldier - a strategist - and she secretly pondered if her ancient identity was of similar origin. Forged from warfare. Yet those early, cosmic memories were too distant now to truly decipher. 

Cold calculation honed Seren’s features into unyielding sharpness. Ancient eyes, full of an otherworldly cunning, narrowed at the faraway wall as waves of strategies and possibilities rushed through her thoughts. Who - or what - did this mysterious danger belong to? Her jaw tightened as she contemplated the shadowsinger’s words and she started to drum her long fingers against her folded arms; a telltale sign that the Second was entering a haze of calculation.

“Your concerns bring valid points, as always,” her voice was softer, yet still held some steel in its tone, as she considered each angle, “it is possible that if we are unprepared, then more will be lost. When faced with a mysterious threat like you are describing, it will be difficult to predict when it will strike. Perhaps we should try and predict its motivations - its target.” She tilted her head and thinned her lips into a hard line. “Perhaps it wishes to disrupt the plans for a victory or a ceasefire? Or perhaps it wishes for vengeance or chaos? All of these are possibilities.”  Gradually, Seren dragged her attention away from the wall and directed it back to Malik. Her features- previously cold and alien; which were sharpened with an ethereal isolation - now softened and returned to something more present. More alive and with warmth. “Is there anything you need of me, Mal? I am always willing to help.”

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Velaris & the most recent Starfall event

TARGET: @azraehl​

DETAILS: Flashback (recent). Continued from previous thread, remade for tumblr formatting purposes!

Cosmic eyes openly indulged in him; unashamedly memorising every angle and shadow when he coolly turned towards her. It was a prevailing habit to sweep over his impressive stature, scrutinising for any sign of injury - especially since those sinister moments threatened to invade and to torment. An urge to protect ached through her veins, igniting them with an ethereal light which webbed across her skin like the fracturing of a star’s heart. She wanted to carve out the souls of their enemies and obliterate them into nothing more than dust between her ancient fingers - not even the gods were permitted to harm him again. 

Yet there was a newfound distance to Azrael after the war. It felt as if a veil shrouded his innermost sanctum; carefully weaved from obsidian winds and fierce darkness. She wondered whether the isolation was designed to shield the world from his sacrifice -  to forever keep his people safe - whilst he bravely, yet tragically, faced his inner torment alone. But she was also there. Immovable and patient. Her soul ached to envelope him in soothing starlight, cocooning him from the agony that pursued him. In the deep night, Seren heard the cracks splintering, and the howls of his roaring screams echoing from those sleepless dreams. Unable to retreat and rest, seemingly hounded by the traumatic tempests which unleashed hellish nightmares. Visions which she shared in and would cradle him through, whilst reminding him in a gentle voice that he was safe and their enemies had been punished. Destroyed. Eliminated. Rendered into nothing. The bitter poison of hatred would always still coat her tongue - at the reminder of his treatment at the hands of those monsters.

Yet no barrier or wall could conceal his mighty strength from her - a peerless power that seemed to wield the midnight touches of a legacy born before life itself. It roared with the force of night’s dominating shadows. She had witnessed it eradicate enemies into nothingness within a blink of an eye. He was captivating and unconquerable like the sky above them. Indomitable. Unyielding. Where there was chaos, he brought order - tempests stilled, torrents stemmed, and thunder stopped. His will came manifest, where he so chose. Some called him a monster for the power that raged within him. But they did not understand the vast complexity of his very soul. He may be the manifestation of midnight and all of its fearsome secrets; but even darkness could breathe with a gentle, cooling touch. They both echoed the enigmas of the eternal night; the dark side of the moon and the light of the stars. Unfathomable to most, but not to eachother.

When an easy smirk appeared on his lips - a sight which she delighted in seeing - Seren bathed in that answering surge of joy. Everything else faded into obscurity as she focused on him. Everything he was and ever will be. There were no beginnings or endings, simply the present, and the thread which bound them together. “Such a wicked High Lord for asking me to predict your secrets,” she purred slowly in response. When his voice echoed in her mind and she felt his presence embrace her inner thoughts, a wider smile tugged on the edge of her lips and she dared to take a step closer.

His scent seized her; grounding her with the sensation that this - him - was home, and she tilted her face upwards to indulge in the closeness. A dangerous line they had been balancing on for too long. I would wish for a selfish dream, her voice - low and intense - echoed through the bond. To hear his laughter again. To chase away his demons. To secure the night - his legacy and birthright - to only bliss, and not to torment. To take his place in shouldering those burdens. All of those wishes rushed through her mind with a burning, painful ache. Because even if she was bestowed with a boon - a wish - for anything in the vastness of reality, she would still wish for him. Let her be condemned to the consequences of selfishly choosing him over the world. Tell me. What would you truly wish for, Az? Her breath whispered across his skin, challenging every ounce of her immortal patience, yet she remembered that they had the power of time. To heal, to build, to forge. Sensing the possible vulnerability that lurked beyond the shadowy ocean, she tugged on the bond with a teasing tone. A playful distraction, followed with a huff. And she raised a single, curved eyebrow in amused defiance. But every High Lord must have its secrets. I might forgive you for your silence if you indulge in my request for company. Our beloved family has already raided far too many bottles of my favourite wine.

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Under the Mountain.

TARGET: @dcybrck​

DETAILS: Current timeline. Continued from previous thread, remade for tumblr formatting purposes!

Amusement tingled through her immortal veins, humming with a quiet and welcomed warmth. It was a stark contrast to her controlled features - usually contained in a stoic coolness - yet her eyes, the windows to a soul, were always more expressive and untamed than her impenetrable countenance. An annoyance for Seren. But perhaps her true cosmic soul - a strange, ethereal being; sometimes labelled a monster - found the eyes to be a crack in her High Fae shell. An opening to view the world. However, all was calm in Deron’s presence; after all, she appreciated their long friendship with genuinity. 

She tilted her head, allowing a wave of long hair to fall past her shoulders, and raised a single, arched eyebrow in his direction. His dry humour was always a favourite.  “Mm, you thought that was the reason for my absence?” She crooned softly; her voice full of quiet amusement. “I am sorry to disappoint your theory but I am afraid sobriety would not be a wise method for surviving this political chaos. I think the wine helps.”

The mirth in her gaze humbled into curiousity and she swept a broad look across the crowds, attempting to locate the target of Deron’s conflict. She would respect his privacy and the right to locate that old acquaintance. But his words - repay a life debt - forced her lips to straighten into a hard, inscrutable line. “And how would you repay such a debt?” Her voice shifted into a lower and hardened tone; an echo of the seriousness which she now addressed to the situation. And a quiet concern. “I did not realise you still had a debt to pay.” Was it borne from a sense of duty towards the mentor’s actions? Had he felt indebted to the mentor for all of these many years? It seemed like a terrible, weighty burden to endure and Seren bored an unblinking gaze into Deron, probing his reaction. But her features softened at his consideration for her own wellbeing. She huffed out a noise that was caught between a laugh and a sigh, and folded her arms across her chest. “I am fine. It’s just - difficult - to be around so many we were at war with. I do not easily forget or forgive.”

[fxerily]

seren. something sparked inside of naiyana upon seeing one she disturbed by wandering around the open rooms of the mountain. she was still trying to familiarize herself with the outline of this cave system, but in truth found her long found and lost friend.

“ it is as though you did not know, but you were waiting for me, ” naiyana spoke and walked towards her, joining her in the armchair. though her wings were glamoured out of her way, she sat on the edge of the soft furniture, glancing over to the mentioned bottle. “ i fear that will not be enough though. the night is too young. ” and she had a feeling their conversation as previous ones would be lengthy and wondrous.

“ i do not feel surprised. i can not give you the pleasure of absolutely destroying the regiment of my sleep schedule since it is long doomed, ” the female smirked and locked eyes with seren. “ what’s meant will happen. there is very little i fear these days. do you also feel that way or have i simply grown reckless ? ” she asked pouring herself a glass. “ care to share what is that you were reading ? ”

[xstarforged]

Delight sparkled in otherworldly eyes as they tracked Naiyana’s approach. Seren’s attention was drawn to the mentioned bottle, prompting a wider smirk to drag across her features. “Ah, I believe you are quite correct; that singular bottle is definitely not enough for our conversations,” and then Seren gestured to one of the surrounding cabinets with long, fair fingers, “but I do believe there is a stockpile of good wine in there. That's why I carefully selected this room - in case of emergencies.” She crooned the last word in a humming voice, full of mirth and mischief.

Raising a glass to her lips, the ancient seized the opportunity to coolly observe her old friend. She slowly studied the other female and scrutinized every detail; in case of injury or exhaustion. Once satisfied, Seren nestled more deeply into the armchair’s comforts; surrendering herself to a rare evening of friendship and laughter.

“Mmm,” she hummed in thought and continued to study the other with a raised eyebrow, “and what has sparked this fearlessness in you, Naiyana? Has the recent war prompted you to ‘throw caution to the wind’?” Sometimes war could inspire that in people - to live in the moment; to not forsake any chances to the rules of the unknown.

The ancient glanced at the dusty book and a positively wicked grin beamed upon her features. “Ah, this book?” Her voice deepened into a low purr and she smoothly raised the cover in her friend’s direction. “Something I found buried beneath a layer of dust. Some sort of anonymous diary - they have lived quite a dull life and regretted it. A fate you will not have to suffer, by the sounds of your growingly impulsive nature.”

[xstarforged]

Delight sparkled in otherworldly eyes as they tracked Naiyana’s approach. Seren’s attention was drawn to the mentioned bottle, prompting a wider smirk to drag across her features. “Ah, I believe you are quite correct; that singular bottle is definitely not enough for our conversations,” and then Seren gestured to one of the surrounding cabinets with long, fair fingers, “but I do believe there is a stockpile of good wine in there. That's why I carefully selected this room - in case of emergencies.” She crooned the last word in a humming voice, full of mirth and mischief.

Raising a glass to her lips, the ancient seized the opportunity to coolly observe her old friend. She slowly studied the other female and scrutinized every detail; in case of injury or exhaustion. Once satisfied, Seren nestled more deeply into the armchair’s comforts; surrendering herself to a rare evening of friendship and laughter.

“Mmm,” she hummed in thought and continued to study the other with a raised eyebrow, “and what has sparked this fearlessness in you, Naiyana? Has the recent war prompted you to ‘throw caution to the wind’?” Sometimes war could inspire that in people - to live in the moment; to not forsake any chances to the rules of the unknown.

The ancient glanced at the dusty book and a positively wicked grin beamed upon her features. “Ah, this book?” Her voice deepened into a low purr and she smoothly raised the cover in her friend’s direction. “Something I found buried beneath a layer of dust. Some sort of anonymous diary - they have lived quite a dull life and regretted it. A fate you will not have to suffer, by the sounds of your growingly impulsive nature.”

[godstcr]

“i very much doubt that. i’m sure i would delight in whatever you shared, seren.” she knew of the woman, had even run into her a few times, there was very little she actually knew about her. while it wasn’t a rarity for someone to remain a mystery in the vast expanse of the country, there was something intriguing about the second of the night court. though her intrigue mixes with her distrust in the pit of her stomach, like water and oil unable to mix. she didn’t like the power their court held, the way that their high lord had so easily been able to destroy those minds. she may be thankful, but that razor edge she walked on would remain in place until she was certain they were truly here for peace and not to declare azrael as a high king.

her eyes dance in amusement at the way she commands a seat at her table without a word, delia nodding her approval to her guards before she casts her eyes back to the fae. her smile merely widens at the statement made, chin raising in pride. “just right.” like it was always supposed to be there. she’d been believing as much for centuries now and had the war not taken her father out, she’s certain she would have. “being anything other than high lady all these years has been a waste of my time.”

[xstarforged]

Deep, cosmic eyes observed the female and the proud power that radiated from her. There was a blunt honesty in how the High Lady wielded those carefully selected words; accompanied with a fiery veracity which Seren could appreciate. Direct. Straightforward. It did not mirror the flowery and subtle ways in which some Fae delighted in handling out half-truths - designed to confuse and to mislead. Those conversations were always infuriating encounters; Seren may pride herself on her immortal patience, but she had little time for the hissing serpentine voices of the scheming and the deceitful. Tedious. Instead, Videlia was seemingly proud of her new crown, and her accompanying words were a justified response. Seren only hoped that the Autumn Court would be appeased with the aftermath of the Loyalists’ defeat and would remain humbled for now. It would be a shame if Autumn’s crown had to pass to another when Seren was just beginning to respect the High Lady for that unashamed sharpness. The thought prompted a small smirk to tug at the edge of her lips.

“Mmm,” she hummed in amusement and slowly leaned forward, allowing a wall of white hair to frame her features, “I can understand that sentiment. And are you excited to implement any changes to your dear court now that you are its new leader?” With a flick of her wrist, the ancient gestured to the crowds around them with long, slender fingers. “Or are you waiting to witness the results of this gathering?”

[xstarforged]

Deep, cosmic eyes observed the female and the proud power that radiated from her. There was a blunt honesty in how the High Lady wielded those carefully selected words; accompanied with a fiery veracity which Seren could appreciate. Direct. Straightforward. It did not mirror the flowery and subtle ways in which some Fae delighted in handling out half-truths - designed to confuse and to mislead. Those conversations were always infuriating encounters; Seren may pride herself on her immortal patience, but she had little time for the hissing serpentine voices of the scheming and the deceitful. Tedious. Instead, Videlia was seemingly proud of her new crown, and her accompanying words were a justified response. Seren only hoped that the Autumn Court would be appeased with the aftermath of the Loyalists’ defeat and would remain humbled for now. It would be a shame if Autumn’s crown had to pass to another when Seren was just beginning to respect the High Lady for that unashamed sharpness. The thought prompted a small smirk to tug at the edge of her lips.

“Mmm,” she hummed in amusement and slowly leaned forward, allowing a wall of white hair to frame her features, “I can understand that sentiment. And are you excited to implement any changes to your dear court now that you are its new leader?” With a flick of her wrist, the ancient gestured to the crowds around them with long, slender fingers. “Or are you waiting to witness the results of this gathering?”

[boanerges20]

NGC 346. James Webb Space Telescope/ NASA.

[words-off-the-page]

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Under the Mountain; random sitting room/lounge.

TARGET: Open to everyone!

DETAILS: Current timeline.

When approaching footfalls echoed in the room’s entrance, Seren raised a single eyebrow and tilted her head to identify the intruder. Or fellow guest, she supposed. 

Settled in an oversized armchair, with long legs draped across the arms of the seat, sat the Night Court’s Second. Grasping an old, dusty book in one hand, she peered over its rim and bored amusement into the other from the depths of her strange, cosmic gaze. She reached out with her free hand and seized a large glass of a swishing, maroon liquid. “There’s enough here for two.” Nodding her head towards the large bottle of wine in the middle of a low table.

“And if we are going to share this quiet sanctuary - then by all means - sit down.” Signalling with her glass, she gestured towards another armchair in the opposite corner, and then added in a low, smoky voice. “Do you know that there are rumours that this level of the mountain is haunted? Might want to be careful walking around these areas alone.” A low chuckle escaped her crimson lips, as they tugged upwards into a wide smirk. A challenge or a jest? Both words seemed to possess the same meaning for Seren. And she suspected this entire mountain was branded with a reputation for both the sacred and the otherworldly. The two often went hand in hand.

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Under the Mountain.

TARGET: @dcybrck​

DETAILS: Current timeline.

These tight, cramped spaces were beginning to feel uncomfortably similar to a prison. It was impossible to not be completely rigid and straight-backed with a ridiculous amount of militant tension when they were packed into a crowd of unknown fae. Everyone had their own loyalties and motivations. One slacking moment could cause her to lose sight of something important. She fought down the urge to rumble out a low growl as another stranger steered close to her carefully selected post. 

But then a familiar voice captured her attention. She tilted her head, angling a look in the direction of the sound, and recognised a friendly face. Seren peeled away from the wall and started to weave through the crowd with a smooth, agile grace; although, she was not afraid to radiate a fraction of her unnatural power to try and intimidate a way through. Sometimes a little bit of harmless fear helped. 

“I thought I heard your voice,” she called out in a cool and dry tone when her friend was alone, “it has been too long since I have visited you for a much needed drink.” Strange, cosmic eyes scanned over the other male in a wordless search for any sign of injury or distress. You never know with so many enemies about - or ex-enemies, she supposed. Once satisfied, the Second arched a single eyebrow at the other and rested a hand against her hip. “Are you perhaps searching for your mentor in the crowd?” It had been centuries since Seren was introduced to Deron through a mutual acquaintance - his mentor, in fact - and Seren then quite literally dragged Deron through a tour of Velaris. What a fun afternoon that had been. She still wondered if Deron thought he was going to become dinner that night, rather than forming the bonds of a lasting friendship. But the male was one of the most observant and attentive souls that she knew - an asset that would be incredibly useful here. 

The memory prompted a slow smirk to tug at the edges of her mouth, and a delighted spark of mirth rattled in her unnatural eyes. 

[xstarforged]

LOCATION: Velaris & the most recent Starfall event

TARGET: @azraehl​

DETAILS: Flashback (recent)

A BRIDGE existed beneath her soft, agile footfalls. It was as vast as the midnight sky and as bright as the moon’s smile; it beckoned with a mysterious power that pounded to the mirroring beat of her heart. Full of yearning. And some primal instinct recognised that even if she was blinded, her soul would still recognise each step along this magnetizing path. It was a secretive road that belonged to her and the one it would always lead to. She had felt its lure many years ago; in a prison, hammered by cruel stone, at the heart of nightmares. The passing twilight enveloped her in a cool, dark mist and pushed her along the sparkling road with an eagerness that mirrored her own desire. 

She glided through the throngs of celebrants and guests like a phantom of starflame. Her strange, otherworldly eyes were fixed on the target ahead - never faltering and never averting. As she reached the edge of a door leading to the balcony, fair fingers grasped the edges of her long, fitted dress to cross over the threshold and she was greeted by the astral light of her falling kin. In her approach, the crystallised light of her shimmering dress embraced every slender curve in a spectacle of silvers and rose-golds - eclipsing, like the dusk sky, with sparkling lavenders and darkest blues in a pool at her feet. The manifestation of twilight.

A small smile tugged at the edge of her crimson lips as she saw him. Her eyes, having watched over untold aeons, still marvelled at his presence. They ravenously drank in his frame and his features, and with each closing step, his scent and closeness surged through her like bolts of lightning. It settled deeply into her veins and whispered with a voice that awoke everything inside her. He is back. He is safe. Frozen tension unravelled in her shoulders at that realisation - a truth she was still too afraid to admit, lest it was a trick of the wicked. But as she neared, the buried part of her soul opened a sleepy eye and reached out with a feathery touch of power - light and playful - to brush against that mighty darkness. This was real.

Seren suppressed the urge to shiver and managed to coolly step towards him.  Her eyes were alight with the countless thoughts and feelings which she knew he could decipher. There was no method of hiding from him. And nor did she wish to. 

"Those are the wrong stars to wish upon,” she crooned softly; her smile still lingering with daring amusement, “but I am feeling benevolent today; perhaps I could oblige instead?”

Playful words, designed to pull him towards her; to distract him from any storming thoughts - any memories - of those haunted times. But she started to wonder at his self control; at his impossible strength. The memories of each of his lashings - the taste of sweat, blood and cursed ash - materialised to mind. How they haunted his dreams. A muscle started to twitch in her sharp cheeks as she slammed her jaw tight and an answering tempest suddenly roared in her ears; tearing asunder what had been so carefully controlled before - rage for his burdens.

[godstcr]

open : for everyone ! settting : the dining hall !

it was no easy thing to move on from the past. it had been no time at all since the war had come to a close, her father and the other high lords killed for what they put the country through. she knows plenty may even blame her, as though she would be insane enough to move against her tyrant of a father whilst he still held onto power. there was very little she could do about all of that, and her focus has shifted to the things she could control. keeping up moral in her new court for one, reminding them that it won't be long until they finally get to go home. distractions worked well to keep them entertained for now, and her table was filled with laughter and smiles as they sat there sharing either bald truths or secrets. her own smile is wide as she looks up at the figure growing closer to her table. "and what about you? any secrets to share that are worth my time?"

[xstarforged]

“Not any secrets that you would delight in hearing,” replied a smooth voice, edged with evident amusement, and then Seren flatly added the appropriately new title of, “High Lady.” 

She had approached the jubilant table from plain curiosity. After pacing around the exterior of the dining hall and silently observing the faces of strangers, friends, and enemies (or ex-enemies, she supposed), the ancient felt drawn to this table in particular. The fresh High Lady wore a wide smile which Seren was fascinated by. Was it a genuine effort to appease and to enjoy this turbulent time? Or did those perfect teeth hide something troubling behind such a grin? What a perplexing social puzzle. 

She hovered at the table’s side, standing closest to the fiery and striking High Lady, and eventually a space was ‘freed’ by an occupant who met Seren’s demanding gaze and decided to not fight for dominance over the seat. Wise. The ancient slipped into the chair with a comfortably feline grace and started to twirl a long piece of white hair around a finger, as she unashamedly observed the other female. “And how does the weight of your new crown feel?”

[burntgods2-deactivated20241202]

location: night courts inner circle secret lair  status: closed  time: morning & set a week prior to 'the last act of war'  ( @xstarforged )

Malik picked something off his uniform and flicked it off himself before turning to Seren. "Do you think this will make things better?" He asked her casually. He knew that having these kinds of discussions would only bring up a varity of opinions but no one else was there. It was just him and Seren.  He sighed and crossed his arms, raising his brows at the second. He respected her... He also feared her. Malik knew that she could destroy him in a matter of seconds, despite his abilities, she was a force. He had already thought she held her secrets safe but during the war, he really started to understand her better. Even though they had known each other for most of his adult life.  Malik nodded, listening. "What more can we do?" He raised his brows. The illyrian walked over to the couch and sat down, making sure to tuck his wings before adjusting to get comfortable. The shadows kept themselves at bay for the moment, only scratching at his hands. Malik tried not to sense her feelings regarding this, rather he choose to listen and nod when appropriate. He could tell still, he made some uncomfortable, given his abilities.  "What do you really think about this?" He asked her softly. "Come on, I'm sure not going to push you to example yourself to me but I can sense it, Ser." Malik shrugged. "It's better after all this time that we're honest with each other." He told her, wringing his hands out quickly. 

[xstarforged]

Do not mistake silence for inaction; for there was a raging storm inside Seren that refused to diminish. 

Few people would be able to grasp the signs of her tremulous emotions, but she knew that Malik could. He could feel them. It had always been her weakness around the observant Shadowsinger but it was also why their conversations were refreshingly fortifying as well. They were unique. More direct and forthcoming. Because there were very few ways anyone could truly hide from a Shadowsinger, and even Seren was no exception to those otherworldly, whispering powers. 

Whilst she preserved a carefully schooled expression of ice, her strange eyes - a cosmic blending of silvers, reds and pinks - tracked the Shadowsinger’s movements. “No-” she finally replied and her voice was low and raw; slowly building into a climax of rough sharpness as her emotions flared; “-no, I do not think this will make things better. Nothing will be better until a very long time. Do you think all of this will end because of some spilt blood?” 

Memories of too many wars, repeated uselessly through the centuries, rushed through her troubled mind but his last words prompted Seren to reflect on the situation. Inhaling a sharp breath, she forced the screams of her riled fury to dissipate into a more manageable hum, and her rigid body started to release its tension. Malik’s attentive manner - always listening, always observing - cooled the ancient’s unease. 

And slowly, a slow smirk tugged on her crimson lips, and she tilted her head to study the usually quiet Illyrian. “It’s impossible to not be honest with you, Mal,” she jibed, a sparkle of amusement glittering in her gaze, “but know that I like to be honest with you because ‘after all of this time’, we’re family. We all are and that’s why this approaching conclusion to the war is so important.” 

Her sharp features sobered at the thought and she clenched her jaw tightly. “There’s always a cost to war and I - very selfishly - do not want our High Lord to hold that burden.” Her voice was softer now and her brows knitted together in hard, angled lines as she contemplated everything. “War, subterfuge, strategy - these are elements that we can control and excel in; but the price at the end? - I feel,” another pause, as she tried to open her lips to taste an uncomfortable word, and she managed to hiss it out through gritted teeth, “powerless to help. But I do not think it is a mistake to enforce peace for the sake of protecting our own interests.” A city of starlight and dreams came to mind; a most precious place that must be safeguarded. “What do your shadows think will happen after the war is over?”