Fable - Ask A nightmare dressed like a daydream

[Delun]

Delun watched in silence as Seska stole away with the Erlking to dance. Even with the small victory of his attention diverted, it would be a matter of time before he could excuse himself and Fraeya. And it began a game of keep away from one of, if not the most dangerous being in the room.

The slow creep of budding pain made itself known behind his ears, his thumb and forefinger pinching the space between the two fingers on his other hand. A temporary stop gap for what was to come, but he didn't feel like snapping and snarling he felt guilty for dragging into a mess.

The earlier amusement of the parties quilled guest and the subsequent transformation of several cwn had him feeling itchy on top of the growing head ache.

His assistant had cleared herself of company, something Delun silently thanked her for as he followed behind her with growing speed. The mask he wore was irritating him finally even through the efforts of making it as comfortable as possible. The voices around him were slowly growing to a cacophony that he could do little to assuage. What once had been a pleasant evening was shifting into an entirely unpleasant experience as he walked beside Fraeya with a growing weight on his shoulders.

Eyes on his back, voices in his ear. Words and words tumbling through his mind and disrupting any thought of his own. The music seemed to amplify the irritation as it picked up and threw his small worry into an almost panicked state. Midir was dancing with Seska. Not with Fraeya. He wasn't coming for her yet. Words formed in his mind and spiraled, his hands going into his sleeves as nails dug into the back of each hand.

Pain.

Everything was a sense of pain. He despised gatherings. Disliked the presence of most. Hated public speaking. Why couldn't he have stayed home?

"Fraeya. I must ask that we find a less occupied corner." His voice was soft, and in her time she might have come to recognize the almost delicate tone that he had tried to hide.

Looking at him so closely, his assistant would see the glances he cast about trough the mask. Could see his near instant reactions to those that came close to bumping him. Could see the ever so slight tremble of his shoulders beneath the robes he wore.

 

[Falerumasa]

The dragon shook her head only enough to be seen, a hand waving away the worry.

"Nothing a guiding hand could not correct. Though I do hope they took the lesson seriously. And in stride." She offered before examing the reaction asking after the theater had garnered. A passion in the truest sense it seemed as she was made an offer she could not refuse without drawing ire.

"I shall return to enjoy the viewing then. A wondrous gift i look forward to enjoying." She replied quietly before another was made kmown.

Falerumasa bowed in shared measure to Peril. Even being a neutral party, she still understood court and the ranks withknown. "An equal pleasure. And it is pleasing to know your father speaks highly of me and finds themselves comfortable near the strait. I shall have to acquaint myself better in the future." She spoke to the cat sith before watching them leave.

Her eyes drifted back to Diyue, who seemed interested in the goings on of the evening around them. Her comment however had the woman placing a hand over her mouth to hide the small smile that formed.

"Ever present eagerness and joy. Amongst those who enjoy such things, most anything is possible." She spoke, eyes lingering over the diffusing scene before them.

"The strait prospers, merrow coming and going to aid their own pods whilst those on land seek attention and ply their blessing in attempts to sway opinion favorably. Ever the same business and yet always changing faces."

 

[Lorcán]

Maybe being kicked out of his home wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but Lórcan knew well that his father would rather murder him here and now rather than allow him to seek sanctuary in any other court. His father wasn't stupid, he knew how the hatred he felt for his son was mutual, and in his mind Lórcan would poison other courts against him. No, his father would keep him here on a very tight leash as he had done for hundreds of years, he'd continue to use him to torture those he required to be tortured and to face the humility of being beaten down again and again in his sadistic tasks and tests.

He cast his dark gaze over the room once more before looking back to his dance partner with a wolfish grin. "I'm sure we'll find more ways to keep ourselves entertained.." his brows rose, and he gave a husky laugh as she took hold of his wrist to escort him to the privacy of the booth. The curtain was drawn and wards were cast. He had no desire to be interrupted, nor did he much feel like having eavesdroppers privy to his private words or the Lady's rapturous delight she was bound to shout about, for he was just as bad an influence as she.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

"Boredom allows no respite, it would seem. This gathering is every bit as pretentious as I'd feared, Tharu" The tall, silver haired being's voice was as smooth as the flowing orchid colored robes he'd chosen for this unwilling attendance at The Autumn Court's popularity showcase. It trailed behind him in a long dramatic tail, and was adorned with all manner of keepsakes and trinkets from his life. It was enough to cause a telltale clinking sound as he finally emerged from the spot he'd been observing from, having grown restless. His attendant Tharu was a much smaller creature, so small in fact, that the elven eared helper sat upon the broad shoulders of his Master, Nairth San'Seya. "This is no place for me, and I dare say Oberon knew that quite well. Yet here I am, once again entertaining his whimsy decisions..."

Tharu only shook his head at the disgruntled Duanann. He'd never served one so aloof and uncaring about building relationships with his peers as Nairth. The tiny creature had heard that San'Seya was once much like any other Fae in terms of social behaviors, but whatever had happened to the tall elven Fae had changed him drastically. "Should you need me, I will be at your command Master San'Seya."

Nairth only nodded his head downwards as Tharu disappeared, a thin smile appearing on his lips. He couldn't deny there had been some interesting happenings here tonight, but none so interesting that he'd wanted to make his presence known; Oberon had requested his presence, not his participation. Nairth would much rather be in the forests of Falwood right now, far away from blossoming politics and the choosing of bedmates for the night. That's all this was, in his eyes, and none of it mattered. Not to him at least. He held no more desire for power, and he had not felt the warmth of a woman in ages. It would all cloud his mind, and his mind was all he was beginning to feel he had left.

A bit sad, really...

"I stay two more hours. No more and no less." He mused to himself, raising a hand to a decorative plant line against the wall. The stem of the plant lengthened, reaching out to place it's large flower in Nairth's palm. His lips pursed in a warm, loving smile. "I did promise myself I would look into that mysterious plague running amok. I wouldn't want you to catch it." He all but cooed to the bloom resting in his hand.

 

[Vulpesen]

It was an odd feeling. To sit at the edge of such festivities, an unknown face, a pauper among kings, princes, and lords. Still, it wasn't without its benefits. For once, he was free to make merry as he wished and it was only after his third glass of mean and a fourth in hand that he approached another, albeit at Varos' wishes for him to wait until he was sober.

[This is a terrible idea. You are a mortal. The wrong offense could leave you incapacitated or outright dead!] Varos warned, pleading with his warlock to reconsider his conditions of socialization.

[I was a soldier. you just listed every reason I got drunk for the decades before you met me,] he mentally grumbled back before shutting down the connection to his master. Politics were annoying enough without having another voice whispering into his brain.

Searching for another like himself, Vulpesen finally caught sight of something interesting at the edge of the ball, a fae manipulating the decorations. With a smile touching his lips, Vulpesen approached, his gait easy and smooth despite the warmth that was spreading through him. "Useful trick, that. And one I've been meaning to learn," he mentioned, gesturing to the bloom in Nairth San'Seya's hand. "Unfortunately, most wild mages seem to focus more on the elements than the flora and fauna." Without his liquid courage, he couldn't deny that there wouldn't be a bit of trepidation within him. This man towered above him by at least a foot. Though, that wasn't nearly as concerning as the power of a full duanann which radiated form him.

Furthermore, between the pair of them, Vulpesen wasn't sure he'd ever felt more like his master's warlock, a small long lived yet mortal figure clad in black against the splendorous garb of the larger full fae.

 

[Isiell]

If Lorcan had been watching her a little more closely, and not the room quite as much, he would have seen Isiell's eyes soften in a way they rarely did. She sensed the way he felt trapped, and she herself had felt the same in the Winter Court for so long. Leaving was a choice only he could make, though, and she wouldn't blame him for staying either.

He willingly let her pull him to the booth, though, laughing quietly as he drew the curtains and cast wards. Isiell was no exhibitionist, persay, but she didn't mind putting on a show to make others uncomfortable. However, she was feeling an odd sort of kinship with Lorcan, and if he wanted privacy, she wouldn't protest.

Isiell quietly pushed Lorcan down until he was seated, leaning back against the throw pillows where Delun had lounged earlier. With an alluring grin, she slid onto his lap, facing him, her knees resting along the outside of his thighs. She reached up and removed her mask, then cupped his delicious jawline in her hands, and softly kissed him.

When Isiell pulled away, her fingers moved up to settle on Lorcan's feather-and-leaf mask. "May I?" she asked.

 

[Midir]

Every twirl, step and careful little dip was a complete afterthought for the Erlking. It was almost as second nature as breathing the way he moved with Seska and it could well have been considering how many years he had been playing the game of courts. His real attention was on the woman in his arms and - most importantly - the story she had to tell him.

It wasn't a fact many people knew about the Erlking that he did enjoy hearing of the mortal realm, especially of those rare, delicious brilliant flames that burned brighter than the rest. They were such curious things, mortal beings. They strove so hard, loved so passionately, fought like they were possessed for mere years. A blink in the cosmic of being. Their blood tasted all the more sweeter for their dreams.

"She sounds like quite the woman," he murmured as he spun Seska once more in an elegant little twirl. "I can respect her drive, it is how my court works. People only respect one thing really in life and that is strength, for all their bleating of mercy and kindness. If is a lesson my son needs to learn."

 

[Favashi]

So much passion in the room. The Fury of War could taste it in the air, feel it in every fibre of her being. It was almost a struggle to dampen her magic due to it all and her skin practically glowed. She could see the other members of the Dawn Court thrumming with the same kind of energy. If it wasn't released in here then no doubt there would be a symphony of chaos on the way home back over to the West. Favashi almost licked her lips at the thought of the bloodshed. Her counter - the Fae of Order - brought her back to what she was meant to be focusing on in that moment however with his charming invitation to a dance.

"The honour would be mine," she laughed with delight and put her slender hand into his outstretched one. As they swept onto the dance floor she placed one hand on his chest and twined her fingers with his other hand. Favashi quite enjoyed dancing. It might have come as a surprise to many but not to anyone who had seen her on the battlefield. The way she moved there was much like a dancer. Just... with a lethal blade.

"So, dearest, tell me all your secrets since we last met," she smirked.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth heard the creature speaking to him as this thumb softly traced the surface of every individual petal that the bloom in his hand held, but he only briefly turned his head to look upon him. In that small window of time, he would offer only a smile and the shake of his head before turning back to the flower, releasing it and watching it return to it's original size. "It's not a 'trick', my mortal friend. I am attuned to life, it heeds my call to blossom or wither."

Of all the people who could come and attempt to drag him into a conversation, it would be a mortal. He loathed his loyalty to his court to have decided to remain here. Of course, his disdain didn't show on his lips, still stuck in that small little smile as his hands slid behind his back and he turned to face Vulpesen. "Humor me. What reason do they have for tolerating a mortal here amongst us?" His head tilted to the side, his eyes sliding shut and smile widening in a rather off-putting contrast to his words. "Especially one who so brazenly approaches others, addressing their natural gifts as though they were parlor tricks."

The aura Nairth exuded was so very dubious. His body language was one of warmth, of friendliness and kindness. His words rang with a hollow chill that spoke to just how little warmth he truly felt within himself. "All of my peers are far too busy pairing off and gazing wistfully into each other's eyes. Do you find it amusing to bother the odd one out?" If Nairth was being honest, he found the mortal's choice quite genuinely amusing himself.

Vulpesen

 

[Faolan]

After several decades of ball attendance, three types of people emerged: those whose enjoyment of the gatherings flourished, those who became neutral to them, and those who grew to loathe them. For Faolan, he had settled in the middle. He attended the spring affair with the decided, even neutrality becoming of a guard escort. He lacked the glowing persona of a socialite and courtier; that was the inheritance of his brother and sister. What he did have, however, was the enduring patience to stand for hours until the royals in attendance had exhausted their desire to dance and socialize.

Tonight especially, for he did not come to shadow his Queen, but his princess.

Faolan had kept Amaryllis quiet company throughout the evening, just as he had been beside her for every step of the journey here. He never tired of her gentle company the way he was frequently annoyed by Titania’s oft foul attitude. If Titania was the harsh burn of the hottest summer day, then her younger sister and heir was the kiss of its warmth -- the promise of summer in the first blooms of a spring garden. Golden and shimmering like a tongue of sunlight alighting the earth, she was unlike the others gathered in the Erlking’s halls.

He was not dressed as brightly as her, but his rusty orange and charcoal gray garments were complimentary. Pinned over his heart on the collar of his tunic were marks of his designation, worn proudly to signal his position here not as attendee, but as her Highness’ personal guard. His long hair was braided neatly and tied with a tuft of fur resembling a fox’s tail and he wore a mask fashioned after the same animal’s clever pointed features.

Amaryllis awoke from her little nape and Faolan followed his princess in, offering her a hand on the stairs and releasing her once more back into the throng. His palm was warm in the lingering absence of her touch. His fingers curled at his side.

When she settled in one place momentarily, Faolan stood behind her and offered her the illusion of privacy by letting his gaze scan the opposite side of the festivities. There was something charming about the wild nature of it that still managed to embody the turning of the season and the rise of solar power.

He was keeping an eye on the cwn who were still settling down and the stone man with his porcupine when he heard a stranger’s introduction. Glancing over his shoulder, he regarded the duanann with a single sweeping rake of his eyes. Faolan didn’t recognize him -- and he was certain he would have recalled a figure such as this. They stood eye-to-eye, but where Faolan was the height of fae standards with a trim, agile physique, the newcomer was as broad and muscular -- and hairy -- as a black shuck.

And his manners were just as coarse. A Court outlier, if not wyldfae. His features retained their neutral facade, but his annoyance was pricked.

“If you are a member of his Grandeur’s Court,” he replied politely before Amaryllis as he turned around, “then you would be wise to properly address her Highness in the future.” Faolan’s voice was even and cool, but his gold eyes had a marked possessiveness. The Spring Court wasn’t much better than the Autumn Court when it came to their wild tendencies, and the lack of formality irked him.

Amaryllis || Quacey​

 

[Diyue Rhianni]

Watching the drama unfolding in fleeting glances was quickly eclipsing her interest in Falerumasa, but Diyue maintained her focus. A dragon was nothing to sniff at, even if she was only a parlour ruler. There was, however, no hiding her smile as excitment continued to unravel around their peaceful conversation. Diyue ignored it all as well as one could.

“Ah, well. I suppose there is security in business as usual,” she mused. “As long as the strait prospers, so does the commerce in Underhill -- myself included. You’ve carved a significant corner out of the market for yourself and your parlour. I am surprised you do not fancy a Lordship with the notoriety you’ve built.”

At last, she gave in to the urge to turn back and take in the drama once again. She spotted one of her entourage on the far side of the dance hall. Her understudy, his eyes wide as he surreptitiously glanced from Midir and Delun to Lorcan and… someone from the Dawn Court. What was her name? She made a mental note of the woman to look into later. Ariel had swept away the offending mortal girl for now. In the opposite corner, cwn were barking something awful and she refused to deign to look their way.

Lorcan slipped away with his companion and pulled the curtain. Delun was going to speak to the mortal girl -- his charge, she realized as she got a clearer view of her between dancers. Midir returned to his mysterious dance partner and the pair engrossed in conversation.

What a spectacular evening this was! She could feel the air brimming with passion from all sides. It was such a heady bouquet that sang to her, begging to be shaped by her will. How easy it would be to drink from the vein they had opened, leach away the fire from their souls and make it her own. How easy it would be to feed them from her own and feed the rising urges in the room.

An impulse she indulged. Diyue raised her hand to hide her smirk behind curled fingers. She bit her lip and the blood flowed across her tongue as she whispered.

A duanann’s affinity was a delicate thing. Some mastered theirs within a century, and others could never quite curb theirs to obey. Diyue rode the line. She felt the passion in the room swell, a delicious, dangerous song that sounded different to each of the room’s occupants. It wasn't a lot, just a drop of encouragement to each of them.

But for Diyue, the drain was immediate. She pressed her tongue against the wound to stymie the flow of blood. When she turned back to Falerumasa her smile was gone along with any amusement she had expressed a moment before.

“Have you any news on Elbion's reconstruction?” she asked, trying to keep the same friendly tone in her voice from before. She didn't care for the topic and was already well versed on efforts to rebuild the city and its college, but it was of some importance to the dragon.

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's ear flicked and his eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden prickly nature of the man he was speaking with, his tail flicking slightly. He'd been warned of these folks by Varos, fae who believed in their own self important superiority, seeing humans and mortals such as himself as little more than beasts to amuse them on a good day and barely able to serve them on a bad one. Thankfully, such foreknowledge had allowed Vulpesen to mentally prepare himself for such a meeting.

"I can hit most any target at ten yards with a dagger. No matter the size or direction of travel," he mentioned, his hand twitching to the phantom blade at his waist. It was odd to not be wearing his weapons, but such were the customs of this realm. "Its just a trick, a parlor trick," he purred, a grin touching his lips before his eyes took on a stern gaze. "But in combat, with five men bearing down on me with sword, axe, and shield, I find myself only needing to draw my sword against one. All because of a parlor trick." Lifting his glass, Vulpesen took a long sip, letting the mead wash away the bloody memories.

"I am here in the name of my lord, Varos of the Vitae Court, friends of the Autumn Court. He's not one for such meetings and politics, so he sent me." He lifted his eyes from his drink to face Nairth once more. "I assure you, I have no intentions of wistfully gazing into those silvery eyes of yours, and whether or not you amuse me beyond showing a talent for something I wish to someday learn, has yet to be seen. Besides, just as the difference between a trick and a divine gift is context, so too is one's status as an outsider," he said, opening his arms to indicate himself. "You are a fae lord, powerful, brightly colored, and splendorous just as every other being invited to this place. I am a simple warlock of a minor court, contracted by the shadows and clothed as such."


Nairth San'Seya

 

[Amaryllis]

Amaryllis’ searching gaze caught sight of Lórcan and when the Princess saw him dancing, she sighed and broke into a rueful smile. Her eyes fell upon Isiell and the royal fae politely offered her a gentle nod before returning the two to their moment of intimacy. Amaryllis was nearly thrice Lórcan’s age, but due to the similar positions they held in their respective courts the two heirs had been close friends for the longest time. And because of this bond, Amaryllis knew of the endless cruelty he had been subjected to by his father, the Erlking.

It seemed that Lórcan was still healing, after all this time.

His Majesty, on the other hand, appeared to be in good hands and comfortably occupied. Amaryllis’ eyes searched for Midir’s and once they met, the princess dropped a hint of a curtsy. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and disregarding her low voice, the fae’s words carried across the room and into his ears. “Everything is perfect.” And what sounded like a compliment were actually words of gratitude. Midir honoured the fae traditions by hosting this ball and for his effort Amaryllis was grateful.

He wasn’t a kind king, but a good one.

Amaryllis was graciously offered a glass of sparkling wine by one of the many servants, when the princess was approached by a man she had not met before. He bowed and simultaneously offered her a gesture of respect, to which she responded naturally by placing her smaller hand into his. Before Amaryllis could respond to his introduction however, Faolan emerged from behind the princess and scolded Quacey for his lack of proper formalities.

Amaryllis mustered a smile, not surprised by this, as summer was known to be the most tactful and well-cultured of the courts.

“How kind of you to remind him, Faolan.” The princess said softly, and shot her guardian a glance of gratitude. Unlike many of the fae who were mischievous by nature, the knight captain was chivalrous in every aspect of the word. If Faolan’s stern personality was reminiscent of a rock, then Amaryllis’ more gentle approaches were the waves brushing up against it with every flow, slowly but surely softening out the edges – at least that’s how she liked to think of it.

If Titania was to be added to that metaphor, then her royal highness would be an erupting underwater volcano, but that was a whole nother story.

“I wish the same for you, Quacey of Spring,” she finally said to the much taller fae. He seemed rugged, lacking the natural sense of elegance that most of their kind possessed – it was something that immediately stood out to the royal princess. His words, oddly enough, didn’t mirror his appearances and Amaryllis wondered what drove him to speak to her.

“Are you enjoying the celebrations? It pains me to see Oberon absent, and I hope that he is well. If you see him again after tonight, will you send him my regards?”

Lorcan | Midir | Quacey | Faolan​

 

[Fraeya]

Fraeya. I must ask that we find a less occupied corner."

She frowned as her stomach plummeted. Pale green eyes drifted to the corner they once had, now occupied by Prince Lorcan and the wild fae. Curtains drawn. Her lips stiffened as she realized what they were probably doing. What anyone who had seen them before they dipped in realized.

At least it wasn’t her.

There was another alcove. Tucked away across the dance floor on the opposite end. She tipped her head to Delun. “There is one there, my Lord.” She offered her arm for him to take. Funny for a human to offer a fae an arm. As if she could offer any protection at all against the tempest of a sea they now swam in. Perhaps she was clinging to him as much as offering a gesture of solidarity.

“What were his exact words?” A whispered question to her father figure. She knew it was because of the Erlking that Delun hadn’t excused her. That he wasn’t able to excuse himself from this soirée of chess. And she also knew if she knew those words. Perhaps she could find a loophole. She’d become good at that and that’s why she’d survived so long with the fae. That and meeting two true friends.

There was the river on the left. An open grassy green spot with plump cushions for chairs. The dance floor remained at their right.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

There was a noticeable change in Nairth's expression at the retort to his belittlement. His condesending smile slowly faded, his eyebrows raising in mild interest as he spoke. His claims were boisterous, unprovable in their current environment, and coming from most Nairth would have dismissed them. It was how the mortal had said it that caught the Duanann off guard. When the man raised his glass to drink, Nairth found his smirk resting upon his lips again. This time it was genuine.

"Well said." It was almost a purr, his reply. His posture softened, arms uncrossing and shoulders dipping lower to indicate a lack of aggression. "Mortals... always finding ways to surprise me. Sometimes I wish that just once they would endeavor not to exceed my expectations." There was no longer any hint of annoyance or sarcasm in his voice. On the contrary, naught but affection seemed to leave his lips. "We'll call that exchange between us a personal test of mine. Varos made a fine choice with you, you're wiser than some of the Fae here I'd be bold enough to claim." He turns away from the warlock, facing the direction of the dance area, where many of his kin were gathered in close proximity.

Truly, it was what his conversation partner said last that captured Nairth's attention. "Powerful, brightly colored, and splendorous just as every other being invited.." He repeated as he raised a hand to gesture towards some of the other Fae with them here tonight. "Yes, they're all so beautiful aren't they? Lovely creatures, commanders of power, lust and life." He turned his head, looking back at the warlock. His smile was gone, but his gaze told Vulpesen of hidden emotions, ones so powerful even a Duanann was having difficulty concealing them. But then, he'd assured him he wouldn't be looking so deeply into his eyes hadn't he? The thought made him hold back a grin.

"Does this seem excessive to you? All of this?" The blunt, quickly spoken question hung in the air with a silence between them that spoke of a more major, unasked question; one with consequences. Perhaps as a way of cushioning said question, he offered him a warm smile. "Do not worry, you won't be punished for your answer. None of these other Fae have wish to speak to me, and we are well out of earshot..."

Vulpesen

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

His hand curled around hers, his rich charcoal skin a dark shadow across her milky gold fingers. The sun’s fury and the moon’s shadow. In any other setting, they might have seemed an odd pair stepping out onto the dancefloor. Among fae, however, their dichotomy was commonplace, almost cliche.

Vaer’s hand slid around her waist and he held her close as they took their first sweeping steps together. Though he’d never seen her at war, he could appreciate the fluidity of her movements. Likewise, she would have never seen him hunt, but her twirled with her with a grace that was beyond Court polish. Like many of his status, the steps became second nature -- freeing him to converse.

“What makes you think I have any secrets?” he asked, appearing aloof. But the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gave him away. He didn’t make her wait long. “Besides being His Majesty’s Penance and managing the spring mulberry harvests, I have little to report. I do not suspect you will find talk of silk worms very stimulating. Ah, well...” He spun her around, dipping her effortlessly with a glint of mischief in his own widening grin.

“I have been asked to be the First Moon Emperor at the upcoming lunar new year celebration. A bold way to ask me to fund the festival’s expenses. Considering the annual revenue the Midnight Market draws for me and my vassals, however, I found it impossible to refuse. I will have to brush up on my skills or the Emperor’s coins will cost me more than losing bets to you.”

He didn’t need to tell Favashi how grossly expensive that was for her to understand. Vaer’s laughter was deep and dark, the promise of storms on a darkening horizon.

“I do not wish to bore you of business and Underhill's unending Court politics. Let us discuss your adventures since we last met. What secrets have you carried back from afar?"

 

[Lorcán]

"My Lady, I must say, it's not often that I am the one who is taken advantage of.." he gave a husky laugh against her lips as the woman straddled him. The grin her gave her was lazy, his eyes blinking heavily and his sigh one of lightheaded bliss. He was quite obviously blind drunk, but still apparently considered himself quite able to perform whatever duties necessary to syphon whatever joy he could out of this joke of a ball.

"Of course you may, dear Isiell, but." he reached to grip her wrist before she could touch his mask. "I must warn you... I am... Devastatingly handsome." Lórcan grinned wolfishly, his fingers slowly unfurling from her slender arm, his hands finding purchase on her thighs instead, repaying the courtesy by helping her out of that near non-existent dress.

 

[Vulpesen]

A wry smile touched Vulpesen's features as he found some form of acceptance in the eyes of his new companion. The fae were haughty beings, owning an arrogance earned from lives that spanned millennia. Himself being only a quarter through his second century, he was quite proud to have been able to pass even a simple test with such odds stacked against him. "We mortals have short lives. Our time is limited, and our great deeds are one quite the time table. Humans personally impress me. So many great deeds in not but a century... They endeavor not to rival you, but to surpass you and use what little time they have to make a mark that will stand the test of time."

The fae's question to Vulpesen brought forth a a raised brow. On only a first meeting, inviting such candor with a question so filled with the possibility of offense, was an interesting play. Still, the zorren wasn't overly concerned about how his words might be interpreted. He had worn many hats even before entering this world as his lord's champion. "Its certainly interesting to see how life is beyond the veil. Political balls, in my experience, are defined by their extravagance and excessiveness." He lifted his glass, swirling the light gold liquid inside. "Its both a blessing and an oddity that for once I'm not in the middle of it. Makes things a bit more enjoyable to enjoy." Pausing for a moment, he enjoyed a long sip of his drink, replacing his thoughtful look for a momentary scowl as he noticed that the last drop had rolled itself past his lips. "What about you? Are you one for all this pomp and celebration? I've a feeling you aren't one for crowds," he finally mentioned, motioning towards their current place at the edge of the event.

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Favashi]

The way he teased and tried to give her a not-answer to her questions, only to relent before he truly touched her very thin and inconsistent nerves was why Favashi enjoyed Vaer's friendship.

It was only the Fae of Order who could make the Fury scowl at him once second then win a laugh from her lips a second later. She did so enjoy playing these games but it was a rare person indeed who knew when to push and when to give her what she wanted. It made her oddly sad for a moment as she thought of how very little she saw him in the grand schemes of their lives. But, she thought with a rueful shake of her head at his question, it did mean that when they did meet it was all the more fun.

Favashi's skirts flared out as she spun back into his arms and she ran her hand slowly up his chest to cup the nape of his neck with a grin.

"Hm, a secret for a secret seems fair," she twined her fingers lazily in his hair. "I do not think you would enjoy my stories of war," she sighed with a look that said exactly what she thought of that before continuing. "Here, this you may find interesting. I met recently with a dragon, one of the Old Ones, who has decided to begin ruling an Empire over to the West but under anothers rule."

It had bewildered Favashi when she had heard a dragon knelt to a man but he had told her with his own tongue.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell delicately arched a brow as Lorcan's fingers wrapped around her wrist for just a moment.

"I like warnings," she purred, sliding her hips snugly against his as he teased over her thighs with his fingers. She arched her back and lifted her arms, catching the dress as he tugged it over her head, then tossed it aside.

Reaching once more for his mask, Isiell smirked as she loosened the ties. "You might be devastatingly handsome, my dear Autumn Prince, but I..." she paused there for a moment as she pulled the mask away, appreciating the now-visible line of his nose and sharpness of his cheekbones, "I am simply devastating."

Dropping his mask to the side, Isiell cupped Lorcan's jaw in her hands again and kissed him. As she coaxed his mouth to part beneath hers, her fingers wandered down, tracing over the the lines of his neck and collarbone and every inch of his muscled chest until she reached the few remaining buttons on his shirt, deftly undoing them and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

---

"Are you, and your balls, feeling better now?" Isiell asked teasingly a while later as she tucked herself under Lorcan's arm. "Hopefully you'll have annoyed your father at least a little by fraternizing with the Dawn Court right away."

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

It had been some time since anybody had drawn a laugh from the throat of the San'Seya, but the warlock's observation caused amusement to bubble up from his throat as he drummed his fingers against the wall. This one was amusing, observant, and in all honesty it was refreshing. Nairth was skilled at wearing a mask over his true emotions, but isolation had in truth made him quite depressed in recent years.

"An astute conclusion, friend. You are correct, I do not often show my face in the presence of the other Courts, especially not in such an interpersonal setting." Nairth offered him a small grin. "That is not to say I do not enjoy the things that all men and women do. Laughter, love and lust, good food and strong drink..." It felt odd to be confiding such details in a mortal, but he doubted he would remain so low in status for long. Especially given the traits he'd displayed thus far to Nairth.

His hand slowly slides from the wall, coming to rest behind his back as his head dips low for a moment. "Humans..." He had a history with them, and their ambitions. "I loathe them for their versatility, but I also respect that resolve at the same time. They have no second thoughts about rising above their station and performing the unimaginable." He shakes his head, his eyes sliding shut. "I suppose I may even envy that brash nature of theirs. To a degree at least."

His pointed ears suddenly perk, and he looks in the direction of the dance floor. His smile fades into a frown, and he looks back to Vulpesen with a small bow. "Excuse me for just a moment if you will. I need to check on something. I will return."

He brushed something off his shoulder before walking further into the crowd. It was dense with his kin, but he doubted any of them be a bother. They were far too enraptured in their dance partners. Nairth didn't remember the last time he'd danced, but it had certainly been several generations. Who was it that he felt, who's pressure was bearing down on him?

Vulpesen

 

[Quacey]

The princess of the Summer court placed her hand in his with a smile. As if only natural, he lifted her hand up as he lowered his head further. Softly he pressed his lips against the back of her knuckles for but a moment. Any longer would have been intrusive, and he was not about to impose. This was a celebration of cheer, growth, and equality after all.

Her hand was lowered and she was free to take it away from him whenever she pleased. So when she removed her hand was entirely up to her now.

The more pressing issue was that before the princess could respond to his earlier words a fellow fae that stood at his height but without his bulk stepped forward. An accusation was thrown his way of not showing the proper respect by using her full title. Was it not far worse to speak on her behalf without her permission first? It mattered not. This was not the Summer Court after all nor their celebration. No need to follow all their stiff rules that did little to benefit any of them.

Quacey just chose to smile to Amaryllis apologetically. Thankfully before he gave a sharp tongued remark to the rather rude fellow, the princess spoke. Calmer words from one who did not seem offended. One of them clearly needed to be reminded of the point of this divine day.

"My apologizes if any insult was perceived. None was intended. The Spring Equinox is a time when the Sun and Moons share equally the time of night and day. It is a time of growth and new beginnings. All things embrace each other equally to begin this new cycle. Being mindful of this meaning I approached with the concept of a more equal peerage in mind. I was trying to show my respect by not repeating your whole title for this one sacred day."

Quacey glanced over at Faolan for a moment as he paused.

"So once again I apologize if any insult was perceived by your Highness."

With this Quacey made sure to bow once again, but a bit further this time. Hopefully his desired outcome would come to pass, but what would be would be. No sense trying to control what was by its very nature uncontrollable.

After raising his head, another smile was directed to Amaryllis. "I just arrived, but the chance to greet a beauty such as yourself already makes things enjoyable. As for Oberon, his absence also pains me. I rarely get a chance to see him as my purpose keeps me very busy, but I will be sure to pass on your regards the next time I see him."

Oberon, that jackass, could have been here this evening. Why he was not was baffling. It was a waste of pleasantries speaking kindly of him, but it was to be expected. All Quacey could hope for was that the King of the Spring Court was indeed ill and unable to have hosted and attend the event. If not, the fae deserved a swift smack to the back of the head.

 

[Delun]

His mind was anything but clear. Whispered words like crackling thunder as he followed the lead Fraeya offered to a more barren corner. He paid no mind to those around them, his eyes caught between the ground and a place so very distant from here.

Her words collided with the others, a soft request that did its best to outshine the forces that held his attentions hostage.

Holding back from touching his forehead, he found solace in the lack of company around them when they had finally sojourned to a corner of their own once more.

You are in good company. You are at a party. They are not speaking about you. Your feet are on the ground. Your mind is sharp and can push through the noise. Succeed and move forward.

A mantra that repeated itself until he could fulfill his assistants request. A steadying breath had him regaining some notion of control as he kept his back to the gathered assembly behind them.

"No," he sounded... amused in a way. "At least, not before I get to dance with the young maiden."

His smile took on a cruel flash of teeth.

"As a way to... apologise for my son," and with that he was gone, his eyes set on Freaya.

"Not before he gets to dance with the young maiden. As a way to apologize to his son." He managed through the growing pain that crept throughout his skull.

"I...I regret bringing you here. This is not as intended, nor what I wished. There was nothing to hint at anger in his tone however. Some solace in that fact I suppose." He added quietly. As much an apology as he allowed himself. His hand tightened around hers as they stood there.

"Do take care and remember. I will not leave without you by choice."

 

[Fraeya]

She tried to swallow but once again found her mouth dry. In their little reprieve of a space, she squeezed Delun's hand back. His own was warm and gentle. He'd always seemed to know his own strength and how cautious to be around her - as a human. She'd seen his transformation in the hunt but it was still hard for her to match the creature he became to the fae that stood before her.

"Well," she breathed and began to square her shoulders even as her heart beat like a caged wren in her chest. "I'm going to go see if I can get you home. Back to the estate."

And hopefully save her own skin.

Lime-green eyes slide back to the dance floor. He'd never be hard to miss. Midir. And not with his partner, that strange female Seska the Dragonslayer. Fraeya had been gifted with music and singing. She was a natural dancer. Could move as fluidly and nearly rival any fae on the dance-floor.

That didn't mean she liked it.

And even as she tried to harness her own terror at what she was about to do, she felt Delun's hand in her own. And even though she'd been raised among wolves and monsters, she cared for him. She couldn't stop thinking about others because that was who she was. And no amount of torture or machinations could take that out of her.

"We'll get you home," she repeated and gave Delun one more squeeze before releasing his hand. "I'm going to go dance with him even though he may not realize it." Spying the fae with a crop of red hair with streaks of salt settling in, she made her way to him, intending to cash in on a bargain. One she'd wanted use on something else. Perhaps something closer to freedom but...this was for survival.

With a spark of magic that made her nose suddenly itch behind the stage of musicians, she was spelled to look like a fae. A spell that was promised to be strong, beyond any glamor. One that perhaps only the most powerful of fae might detect. But even then perhaps that just something was off. A new mask. New clothes. Pointed ears. That glow to her skin. But her eyes and hair remained the same.

And just as the musicians switched to playing a Contra Dance. She stepped to join the long line. Hopefully the same one where she'd cross paths with the Erlking. And unfortunately, the other fae down it. Whoever they might end up being. And hopefully the Erlking and his partner joined the line. And kept dancing. Or she'd have to find another way.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth's skin was still raised into the small bumps that had come to him during his conversation with Vulpesen. He'd felt something; a presence here that had sent a small chill down his spine. The last time he'd felt such an eerie sensation, it had been the first time he'd laid eyes upon the mother of his children, Velari. The thought that anything here in this place could affect him so similarly to his deceased lover both intrigued and infuriated him, and it was that heightened emotion that had sent him to the other patrons in search of that which had made his heart begin to race.

Slowly he made his way across the dance floor, feet soft against the ground and golden eyes scanning from person to person from being his mask, waiting for that twinge in the back of his head that would tell him which one of them was stirring his instincts to life.

The San'Seya couldn't deny that there was something in the air floating amidst all of his kin and mixing together with the music that played softly that appealed to a side of him that he so rarely entertained. Even as scanned the crowd, he found himself swaying slightly to the melody caressing his ears. There was a time in which he'd loved this environment, in which he'd craved the company of others.

Bah, there was no time to reminisce and dance. He straightened himself, and began to move faster; if he could reach the other side of the dance floor, he'd be satisfied in declaring the reaction he'd had to be a fluke.

Of course, fate had never made things easy for Nairth San'Seya. This time would be no different it seemed, as his pointed ears perked upon the switching of the music. He recognized the tune as a Contra Dance, and barely held back a groan; Being on the dance floor, it would reflect poorly on his etiquette if he were to attempt to withdraw himself from such a dance. This could work to his advantage, however: Contra Dances involved rotating partners, which meant a much easier method of finding the one he sought than trying to do so with his eyes alone. Bringing a hand to his forehead and sweeping his hair back with a small sigh, he turns and steps into the line as well.

His gaze drifts down to the slightly shorter woman it appeared he would be beginning with, and his brow furrows...

"You're a human, aren't you...?" His lips curled into a confused frown as he addressed Fraeya. Truly, some power unseen must have been playing some cruel joke on him. The creatures he both despised and adored were here, of all places. He wasn't alone in his unease either it seemed; The young human's countenance told him that she was just as unhappy about being in this situation as he was. Looking up the set, he clicks his tongue softly against the roof of his mouth, finally glancing back at the human. "Okay then. Grab onto me and we'll keep this simple."

Fraeya

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Shortly after Nairth's departure from Vulpesen's comapny, the zorren would find that his lonesome ness didn't last long. A puff of smoke seemed to appear from nowhere on the table that held drinks and food for patrons, and from it emerged an odd elf-like creature. It would have looked quite similar to Nairth himself, were he not barely a foot tall. His dress spoke of servitude, much less regal and extravagant than most anybody else at the event.

He raised a hand to his mouth, clearing his throat in attempt to capture Vulpesen's attention. "I do apologize for my Master's behavior. I'm afraid his mental state has deteriorated as of the last few decades..." Disappointment tainted the small man's voice, a hand resting on his forehead as a long sigh drew from his lungs. "He won't even listen to me anymore."

Looking up at the zorren, he straightens his posture before offering a deep bow. "Oh, fie! How rude of me not to introduce myself! My name is Tharu, personal assistant and attendant to Nairth San'Seya." The line was obviously quite rehearsed, but the assistant seemed professional nonetheless. He dusts off the vest he wore before pulling out a small flask and taking a swig of it. "Ah..." he breathes. "You know, I think he actually liked you a fair bit. Quite a rarity for him."

Vulpesen