Fable - Ask A nightmare dressed like a daydream

[Lorcán]

The Prince let out a low rumble of a laugh at the question, the sweat glistening on his skin and the heavy undulations of his chest no doubt answer enough. "Much, My Lady..Much." he breathed with a wolfish grin. Dawn Fury indeed.

"And I annoy my father simply by breathing, love. I don't really have to try much harder than that, but it does at least provide me with a little entertainment.." he snorted. The Erlking would take pleasure in beating him physically and mentally whether he 'behaved' himself or not, he might as well have a little fun if he was being forced to be here. And a tumble with a pretty woman was always a source of fun.

The veiled booth around them was spinning as he tumbled down from those heady heights, albeit everything was starting to slow down once more, meaning that he required more alcohol, of course. As though in answer to his thoughts, a tray appeared on the table, a crystal decanter of amber liquid and two crystal glasses already poured. He handed one to Isiell and took one for himself, quickly draining it in a single gulp and wincing at the burn.

"Your distraction has been most appreciated and thoroughly enjoyed, my Lady." he rumbled, pouring himself another drink and knocking it back. "My quarters are at the very end of the main hallway, if you ever wish to visit my bed again." he winked.

 

[Fraeya]

She recognized him. One from spring? Like most of the fae here, there was a dark and twisted story around this one’s long past. And as her stomach plummeted from the moment of panic his words instilled, she made sure her face revealed nothing. The mask, helping considerably.

With a small twitch of her digits at her sides, she did finally place her own hands in his, knowing they could shatter bones quite easily. Perhaps she’d been foolish to think the Erlking was the biggest threat here. Her pale-green eyes locked onto his own. Pointed-eared head tilted slightly at his…accusation.

“Do I not look fae?” She couldn’t control the worried thrum of her heart even as her face remained calm. And she did look fae. The magic made her so. But. But. This one’s magic must be too strong? He somehow sensed she was…different?

She kept herself from swallowing. Forcing herself to act as aloof and strong as the fae did. She couldn’t back out now. Not as the music started. Not as her body moved fluidly with this stranger who could easily throw her to the wolf waiting at the end of the line.

For Delun. She was doing this for Delun.

 

[Isiell]

"Much, My Lady..Much." he breathed with a wolfish grin.

Isiell laughed softly, and lightly scratched her fingernails up Lorcan's thigh. He was fun. There was so much chaos swirling around in his head... in his heart. Isiell fed off of chaos in two ways--she could incite it, and create the energy she craved, or she could siphon it off when it already existed. In the latter case, it sometimes left a situation or person defused. Maybe a little calm. That was what she'd done with Lorcan as they... played with each other. She hadn't been this satiated in a long time, and she'd barely brushed the surface of his inner chaos.

But still, she frowned slightly as he continued to speak.

"And I annoy my father simply by breathing, love. I don't really have to try much harder than that, but it does at least provide me with a little entertainment.." he snorted.

"Can I give you some advice?" Isiell asked, twisting to see his face. "Whatever is going on here, do whatever you have to not to lose your sense of self. You're more than your father's expectations. Than the court's expectations."

She was speaking from experience. She'd tried, for a very long time, to shove her natural inclinations--her affinity--into a quiet corner of her mind, and only let it out for specific things. It had backfired. Badly.

When Lorcan summoned the liquor, she took the glass offered with a smile, though she arched a brow as she sipped at her own, and Lorcan downed his in a single gulp.

"Your distraction has been most appreciated and thoroughly enjoyed, my Lady." he rumbled, pouring himself another drink and knocking it back. "My quarters are at the very end of the main hallway, if you ever wish to visit my bed again." he winked.

A mirthful laugh escaped her, and she looked back at him with a mischievous smirk. "You were... adequate. However, to say I should visit your bed again when I haven't actually been in it a first time is... presumptuous. Perhaps you'll have to convince me."

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth wrapped his large fingers snugly around the human's smaller ones as he guided her smoothly through the precise steps of the dance, calling on experience gained long ago. He hadn't done this in many years, and he was not as flawless as he perhaps would have preferred to be. That wasn't mentioning the fact his partner was that of human flesh.

The question he'd presented had stiffened her in fear for a moment, the straightening of her back and tightening of her muscles betraying her excellent effort to appear unfazed by his ability to see through the disguise she wore. It was admittedly a well done attempt, but if there was anything that Nairth San'Seya knew well, it was humans. Even if she didn't look human, she smelled human and moved like a human. To one who knew them such as he, such tricks were not reliable.

Releasing one of her hands, he instead moved his gentle palm to her hip, before sliding it around to the small of her back and pulling her body close against his muscular form. He spoke in hushed tone, their proximity allowing him to speak to her discreetly. "Relax. I don't hurt mortals." He loathed them perhaps, but that loathing was equally offset with love and admiration. Even now he found himself impressed at the gall of this human woman.

His eyes shifted down the line. If she was so concerned about being found out, what was she doing in a Contra Dance? "Just... follow my steps, alright? I've no idea why you're here, but it's far too much trouble for me to get in your way..." He moved along side her, the complexity of the dance he took her through increasing. Whenever she may miss a step, Nairth would quickly shift his position, guiding her back into place.

It was almost as if he was working to make her seem more convincing to those Fae around them.

Fraeya

 

[Lorcán]

Lòrcan's dark brow quirked at the offer of advice and he gently dipped his chin in silent answer as he helped himself to another drink. His gaze into the empty glass was distant with thought on her words and the prince lapsed into silence for a short moment before clearing his throat and nodding slowly. "Sound advice, My Lady.." he rumbled darkly, his lips twitching with some semblance of a smile.

He refilled the glasses and had been drinking another one down when she rated him. The mouthful of liquor burst from his mouth and he coughed, battering a fist against his chest as he laughed at her incredulously. "Adequate?! My Lady!" he grinned, unable to stop the dark, husky laughter that tumbled from his lips.

"Challenge accepted, Lady Fury, Challenge accepted." he chuckled.

 

[Fraeya]

Nairth would find that she moved well, better than a human as the music started. She had a gift with music. One bordering on magic. Dance, song, instruments, and movement. Ones she never liked to show anyone because she never wanted to draw too much attention to herself. Too much interest in a place where gifts were coveted and stolen away.

In a place where humans were easily tormented and taunted. Perhaps not as much in the Autumn court, at least not with Delun. But certainly the stories she'd heard about Spring. Where her dance partner was from. Where humans were nothing more than slaves and pets.

She didn't confirm or deny his accusation. Too many ears could hear. Even as she pressed in close as she moved fluidly with him. Softer curves against his raw muscle. That hand of his warm along her back, brushing across skin of her new low-cut dress as part of her magical, fae disguise.

"You're a good dancer," she said quietly as if she'd been worried he wouldn't be able to keep up. "And why are you here? One of such a high position in the Spring Court. I imagine it must be for more than the dancing." Her slender digits tightened for a moment as they went into a spin, blonde ribbons of hair sliding down her face and mask as she matched him, step for step.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Much to the Duanann's surprise, this human in a cunning disguise was an immaculate dancer herself. She matched everything that he offered, and instead became one with his steps, moving in time with him in unison. She would feel the rumble of an impressed hum coming from deep within his chest as it was held snug against her. She could not only match him but there were times in their elegant display of kinetics that he even found himself having to put effort into the affair. The spin she performed was exquisite, and he very nearly got some enjoyment out of this entire ordeal.

The hand on her back would support her, and the aesthetically pleasing curves of her form would glide softly along his own abdomen as San'Seya briefly dipped her, taking the opportunity to look further down the line. No, whatever sensation he'd felt was gone now. Could it have been whatever manner of disguise she'd been using that had set him off? The possibility was very present. Nairth had a sensitivity to humans that many of his kind lacked, and it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that his instincts had been telling him of her presence here.

He pulls her back up, the soft pads of his fingers pressing firmly against that flesh exposed by her dress as he hoists her to stand against him once more. Dips weren't common in this type of dance, and he'd given her little warning, but once again she'd handled it flawlessly. He finds himself smirking down at his partner with the curious raise of a brow. They brushed too close to other pairs for such free tongue wagging. Instead, he slows their pace, lowering his head down in a bow to be nearer hers. "If you were Fae you'd be quite a catch, mortal." Well, she was Fae tonight, was she not? He thought about that with a bit of amusement, his lips forming in a murmur. "I could ask the very same of you. It's not every day a human finds their way to the arms of a duanann, now is it?"

He raised once more, the warmth of his palm moving up her back to rest just beneath her nape as he settled into more traditional steps. Her words were true: Spring thought little of humankind. Being so high in their ranks, it wasn't odd that she would be so wary.

Nairth was a Fae attuned to the energies of life itself, however. Even if he wanted to hate humanity, and he often held such wishes, he could not. For they were a very special breed of life, tenacious and ferocious. Their spirits stronger and their passions hotter than any other being in this world. Such a thing might be considered blasphemic, and indeed Nairth disliked the notion that Humanity could have anything he didn't have himself. Even so, Nairth did not waste life.

This one was full of life.

"I serve Oberon, and it's on his orders that I be here tonight." He spoke softly down to her, his eyes keeping level with her own. Their time together would end soon now, and he would move on to the next. It was almost a shame... He'd little doubt his next partner would be nearly as interesting.

"If you truly wish to know more, you may find me whenever you wish. Stay out of trouble, It would be a shame for another mortal to perish here tonight. I dislike the idea of more wasted vitality."

Fraeya

 

[Isiell]

Isiell couldn't help the definitely unladylike snort that escaped her as Lorcan's drink spewed from his mouth as he coughed and laughed, clearly taken aback by her comment.

Once he'd caught his breath and expressed his defiant protest at her rating of his performance, a positively delightful laugh escaped him, and Isiell smiled demurely as she sipped at her drink.

"I can't wait to see how you best this challenge," she smirked, but her gaze wandered past the wards around them for a moment. "Do you wish to do this now, or... later? Closer to the ball's" --here, she skimmed her eyes down his front as she placed extra emphasis on the word-- "ending? It seemed you had a friend who arrived a short while ago."

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen offered a small bow to Nairth, allowing the fey to take his leave, thus rendering the Zorren alone once more with his drink, which was now little more than a puddle within his glass. Tipping back the vessel, he slid the rest of the contents into his mouth, enjoying the fleeting but refreshing sweetness.

In his own world for the brief moment, he was almost completely unaware of the puff of smoke which heralded another being to fill in for his previous company. Allowing his gaze to fall down towards the miniscule creature, Vulpesen rose a brow at the apparent politeness and the apology for its master, whom he could only assume he had just been talking to. "Such is the pain of being beholden to another, I fear I shall know it myself before too long."

Speaking with words, he sent his mind out with an query, a skill he had become quite adept in. [Fae don't have imps do you?]

[No. And come now, I doubt I would so easily forget the Vitae Courts only warlock in recent memory.]

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Tharu. You may call me Vulpesen. And I'm glad to be liked. He did seem a bit prickly at first, though I'm happy to have not caused offense."

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Lorcán]

Lòrcan's cheeks dimpled and his wolfish grin displayed his teeth which he latched onto his lower lip as he surveyed the dawn fury, his head shaking and the gold of his eyes sparkling with amusement. He growled softly as he leaned to drag those teeth over her neck, tugging at the skin to cause enough pain that had to be soothed by a playful lick.

"Later sounds wonderful." he rumbled against her skin, giving the woman a subtle wink as he drew away from her to dress himself, at least partly. He pulled on his trousers, throwing his shirt over his shoulder and running a hand through his tousled hair. The prince threw back another small glass of the amber liquor before leaning over to Isiell and reaching to clasp her chin as he left a honeyed kiss at the corner of her mouth.

"Thank you again for that distraction." he mused and turned to leave.

 

[Fraeya]

She felt her skin respond to the warmth of his breath as he drew in close, his whispered voice brushing against her ear and down her long, slender neck. And for a moment, Fraeya had to wonder if the magic that made her look fae extended to making her feel like they did. Heightened senses.

Or perhaps it was just the Hand of Oberon.

If you were Fae you'd be quite a catch, mortal."

Her skin heated and tingled. A whispered breath against his own skin even as their bodies swayed and continued the dance to the music. A part of her still worried another dancer would hear. But no, they were too close. Voices too shared and pressed together.

"Despite the stories about spring I wonder if it would be easy to love you and easier still to be your friend."

"I could ask the very same of you. It's not every day a human finds their way to the arms of a duanann, now is it?"

"You'd be surprised. I'm only here to help family." She couldn't tell him about Delun, the duanann that was like her father. Not yet. Connections were too dangerous to reveal now.

And Fraeya was no human recently plucked from the human lands. She was a changeling, brought here from birth. She knew the fae ways and customs and yet was apart, set aside. She had no doubt she would struggle as much in the human realm, feeling only half like she belonged. And she had to wonder if she'd ever find a place where she truly fit in.

Stay out of trouble,

A twitch of her lips beneath her mask, another spin took him out of her site before her eyes settled back on him, fingers sliding along his arm until they found their proper place again.

"No promises. If I do not survive tonight, I hope you treat others with kindness and care as you have shown me." And before she could say anything more, she was swept into the arms of another. The Erlking growing ever closer. Her chance at getting herself and Delun home in one piece quickly approaching.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell pressed a hand to Lorcan's chest for a moment as he leaned in, shivering as his teeth teased at her neck. She tapped into the internal chaos inside him again for just a moment, drawing just a little more off and letting it sate her.

She smirked as he pulled away, watching with a wolfish grin of her own as he dressed again... just enough to not be fully immodest. She slipped her own dress back on as he threw back another shot of liquor, and when he grabbed her chin for a kiss, she let her hand wander over his collarbone and down his chest again before teasing the line of soft skin over the waistband of his trousers.

"You're welcome," she purred softly as he stood to leave, and then she lifted his mask, a finger crooked through an eye-hole. "But aren't you forgetting something?"

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth had once been a very loving, affectionate creature. Although more recent ages had chilled his once burning heart, there was a part of him that was thrilled with the reactions he was drawing from this human, and the smooth caress of his hands displayed that. The heat of his breath against her nape as he tucked her head to his shoulder was yet another mutter. "Marvelously done." Under any other circumstance, it would be a lover's whisper, not a hushed line of secret conversation. How odd it felt, to feel a tingle in that long-dormant part of him, so lost to time and hatred. Even more so...

How fitting that it was a human woman who'd made him feel it?

That thought made him grin as he drew his face ever so slightly away from her flesh, his smile lingering even as her words lingering on his ears with that same sensation that had brought him to her. "Easy to love... easier to be your friend." She said. It drew a light laugh from his throat. "T'would be a sin for me to love you, one that I've been responsible for finding others guilty of. Would that make me a traitor, you think?"

It was unclear if the question was aimed at her, or at himself. This human was on a mission, that much was clear to him. He assisted her in her facade not out of spite towards his kin, but out of something more. Something he couldn't quite explain. She was vibrant, alive, and warm against his skin. She sought ought a goal, looked fear and death in the eyes, and showed no hesitation.

He felt a desire to see her reach the completion she sought.

It was with parting words that the Hand of Oberon bid the cunning woman adieu. "If you do survive, you may consider me an advocate to your cause. Speak my name, Nairth San'Seya, and I shall come."

It was more than an offer of assistance; It was spoken as a pact, albeit likely not an official one. For whatever reason, this duanann had seen fit to pledge himself to her cause. Nairth smiled as she was pulled away, another unfamiliar feeling settling into his heart for the first time in so, so long: Anticipation.

He pulled himself out of the line, much to the chagrin of the others in the dance, particularly his next partner, who looked at him with thinly veiled disapproval. He bowed his head to her in polite apology before gliding away from the line.

He didn't return to Vulpesen, or his isolated spot in the corner of the ballroom. No, he was rather out in the open now, observing the dance from a short distance, over by a few of the private booths. In particular, he kept his eye on that human...

Fraeya

 

[Lorcán]

He turned back to her, his dark brow quirking in question before falling on the mask hooked on her finger. Ah. He smirked and returned to slip it from her finger with a purred thanks. "Would hate for anyone to recognise me..." he commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he attached the mask to his face and turned to slip through the curtain of the booth, dropping the wards as he did so.

Lòrcan strode through the very centre of the dance floor, half naked and bare footed, his shirt slung over his shoulder and his hair dishevelled, smelling of alcohol and whatever perfume Isiell had been wearing. Not a single fuck was given as he forged himself a path through the room, of the faces gawking at him. He offered his father an insincere smile as he passed, and the guards stepped aside to clear his path out of the ballroom.

The Prince took his time in his chambers, bathing and sobering. He wasn't in the mood for Ama's judgement or pity, most especially the latter. He dressed in fresh clothes and donned his mask again before dragging himself back to the party and seeking out the Summer Princess.

Amaryllis

 

[Midir]

Oh it was so fun when a Mortal wished to try and play with him.

Midir was old. Not anywhere near as ancient as Seska who was rumoured to have been one of the first of their kind of course, but compared to most of the fae within these walls he was considered such. Tatiana was the only one of the High Queens and King who was close to him in age; their stories had passed from myth into legend itself. Yet Mortals still surprised him. Amused him. They liked to think themselves clever with the ways they sought to trick him into losing, but the Erlking would never have gotten to his 10th century by losing.

Still, it really was fun to let them believe it.

His hands slid salaciously up Fraeya's hips to the indent of her waist and his head bent to graze his lips a breath from her jaw.

"I do not believe we have been acquainted," he purred and turned her like a doll to face him.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell let a bubbling laugh escape her. "The masks are a bit ridiculous," she said before Lorcan slipped away.

She still secured her own mask in place as the wards Lorcan put up fell away, and smiled as she watched him saunter away through the crowd before turning to observe the ballroom and piece together what had transpired while she was occupied.

She spotted Fraeya in the midst of the dance floor, and the music was lively and rambunctious, clearly a contra of some kind. Those were always fun for tripping up partners, but Isiell couldn't be bothered right now. She didn't see Ariel with Fraeya, or see him anywhere on the dance floor, which meant that Fraeya had turned him down.

Isiell meandered over to the food tables, having a quick bite of something covered in chocolate and retrieving a glass of punch. As she stepped away from the table, she flicked her fingers, and a moment later the contents of the punch bowl burst into flame.

Quietly smirking, she turned her gaze around the room again, keeping an eye out for Ariel, but also still observing. Favashi seemed to still be occupied with Vaer Nhimei, both people she should greet eventually, even if Favashi was from her own court. She eyed Amaryllis for a moment, and thought about greeting her, but decided to let Lorcan have at his friend first... wherever he had gotten to.

So Isiell lingered at the edge of the dance floor, sipping at her punch without caring whether she did so daintily or not, and smirking when Midir intercepted Fraeya in the dance. She was certain that had been Fraeya's goal, and while Isiell was disappointed that Ariel had been left behind, she was also relieved that he had not drawn Midir's attention.

There was so much chaos in the room Isiell practically vibrated with excitement. This was so much better than if the spring equinox ball had taken place in the Spring Court.

 

[Fraeya]

((OOC: Fraeya disguised to look like a fae by some cheap ass magic that needs to be returned for a full refund.))

IC:

This had been a very, very terrible idea. While Nairth's breath on her skin had felt like a warm spring breeze, Midir's felt like a chilled wind with daggered tips lightly tracing along her flesh. And that sensation or smell she picked up as she stared at him. Rot and decay, wrapped in an ancient slumbering power.

Silently, she clamped down on her fear and growing panic. Pointed-eared head tilted slightly, she willed her gaze to be as cold as he made her feel. Hands found their way up his arms, fingertips grazing along skin, fabric, and lethal muscles until they found their place. While she'd been a wren staring at a hawk with Lorcan. With the King? She was a wren staring into the eyes of a dragon.

"Your majesty," a dip of her chin in respect, the steadiness of her voice surprising even her. And again, as she'd been doing since she started to dance, he'd find her movements able to match his own and any fae with their gracefulness. Fraeya had a few talents and luckily, music and dance, were some of them.

"You are the Erlking and I am but a humble subject of this court," face lifted as they began to spin.

Did he know?

Even if he did, they would not be dancing long.

Her only saving grace.

"Are you finding this evening to your liking so far?" A demure press of her lips together as the room blurred around the edges, forcing her focus to remain on that face of his. That ancient, malevolent power in his eyes.

 

[Amaryllis]

“What an interesting approach,” the doe-eyed fae said gently and with a hint of sincerity in her voice. As much as Amaryllis enjoyed seeing both rules and customs – especially those of the summer court – properly applied, the princess prided herself on being an easy-going and approachable royal.

And in all her grace, Amaryllis rarely found a moment of time to feel offended.

The brunette lowered her free hand and subtly brushed her knuckles against those of her guardian. She offered Faolan a mild smile, one that suggested for him to go ahead and enjoy the festivities as she believed she would be having company very soon. Lórcan’s ways were all but unpredictable at this point and she expected her friend to find her sooner or later tonight.

“You have my gratitude, Quacey.” The spring court fae agreed to pass on her regards to Oberon and for a moment her mind drifted off, wondering what the absent high lord was doing at such a time. Of course Amaryllis quickly reminded herself that it was none of her business and that speculating was judgemental and mean – but she simply couldn’t help herself. Even the kindest of fae was still filled to the brim of her essence with mischief.

When Lórcan’s presence returned to the room, Amaryllis’ consciousness immediately shifted. With a smile, the high fae lifted the glass of sparkly wine to her lips and took a long sip, emptying it at once. Unlike many others, the princess didn’t stare when he strutted through the masses and merely stole a glance at Midir as his son passed by him. If there was any tension between those two tonight, the masquerade did well to hide it.

Her attention was still on the spring male, who had found the right words to describe the events of today. “Beautifully said,” she complimented his casual, yet eloquent way of describing the Spring Equinox. The festivities had a personal meaning to Amaryllis as well, one that set her apart from every other person in the room. She engaged in chit chat and playful banter with Quacey and other passerbys until the prince of autumn returned from his private chambers and moved to approach her.

He had recreated himself for tonight. The summer fae’s smile was never fading; a gentle tug at the corners of her lips painted her features in a pleasant light, adding warmth to her already friendly aura. Lórcan’s presence only elevated those emotions and behind the mask, her eyes lit up ever so slightly. With an outstretched arm, Amaryllis waited until he was within her reach before putting her hand on his back and gently pulling him to her side.

“Lórcan,” she said and turned towards Quacey. “This is Quacey of the Spring Court. He has kindly been keeping me company.” There was no need to introduce Lórcan to Quacey, as the prince was infamous among all courts and not just his own. “If you would excuse us for a bit, Lórcan and I haven’t had a chance to catch up and speak privately in quite some time.” Amaryllis had a hunch that he wasn’t in for any more small talk and offered Quacey a polite nod before moving both herself and her friend further away from the center of the ball room and towards the balconies.

“Come,” she said, urging him to join her for a moment under the clouds. “You are enjoying yourself,” she finally said and glanced at the sky. The Spring Equinox was, as Quacey had already said, a celebration of equality and marked by the equal lengths of day and night. A naturally rare occurrence that meant both nothing and everything to Amaryllis, because every day could be like today if she wanted it to be.

She was the Princess of Twilight after all.

Quacey | Lorcan | Faolan​

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth had been so utterly lost in his own thoughts that he had lost track of whom he was watching.

This wasn't a place for one such as him, with so much of his own kind's blood on his hands. He was the patriarch of the dead San'Seya line, a line he'd euthanized himself when they displayed the exact behavior towards humans that he had. For he and all that shared his name were Lover of World, a practice he had once preached to all that would listen.

Why was it that he was so filled with bitterness by his children's choice to love humanity? They had only been doing as he'd raised them to. They were only acting to please their benevolent father.

He was unsure of his reasoning even now, but it was of little consequence. The violent acts that he committed could not be undone. It was with his usual smile, light and airy on his lips that he turned to return to his spot with that odd warlock he'd met before.

It was not he that caught Nairth's eye though.

There was another, one that he had not seen amongst the others earlier. Unlike Fraeya and Vulpesen however, Nairth knew exactly who she was. They hadn't met, but when words like 'Fury' or 'Nightmare' were associated with you, notoriety tended to spread fast.

Her pale skin seemed to glow under the lights of the ballroom, almost porcelain in appearance when contrasted against her raven locks of hair and the piercing green of her eyes. She was of Nairth's kind: A duanann. While Nairth valued love and harmony with nature however, this woman, Isiell... She was of a different creed. He only knew snippets, what little had been told to him by Oberon. She wasn't a problem of The Spring, after all.

At least not right now she wasn't.

"Was it you entertaining the child, Miss Isiell?" He made no qualms in making his thoughts about the immature Prince known as his soft footfalls betrayed his presence behind her. The female duanann was about the same height as he, but his more muscular frame made him appear larger. Her curvaceous form was more suited for temptation and allure.

She had it in spades.

"I took notice of his absence and figured he must have found somebody to keep him busy." He pursed his lips, shrugging as he circled slowly around to her front, his uncalloused hands clasped behind his back as his golden hues met her stare. The soft, smooth features of her countenance betrayed her cunning, and while he perhaps should have been more cautious to approach one with a reputation such as her's, he instead found himself thrilled at the prospect of banter.

"I do not believe the two of us have ever been properly introduced. I am Nairth San'Seya of The Spring, Chamberlain and Hand of Oberon. It is my utmost pleasure to see the face that goes to the name at last." He bowed his head politely, silvery locks falling over his shoulders.

Isiell

 

[Lorcán]

Lòrcan mirrored Amaryllis' gesture in planting his hand on the small of her back in turn, though there was no sultry caress in this touch, his protective hold was firm and did not travel as it so eagerly did with most other females. He regarded the Fae that had been keeping Ama company with a dark look under his mask before his lips twitched in a polite smile and his chin dipped. "A pleasure, Quacey. I hope my father's efforts are to your liking." he gestured to the ball, and nodded to the male once more as Ama ushered him away.

Thank the gods that she knew him well enough to take him away from formalities and political chatter. There were very few people in this world that he enjoyed spending time with, and simply seeing her here had dragged him out of a spiral before he crashed and burned this entire place down. He had considered it, he realised, in speaking with the Dawn fury..

Lòrcan silenced the drone of chatter with a ward as they stepped outside, letting his ears rest. The fresh, cool air helped in sobering him a little more, and his hand dragged the mask from his face with a huff at her observation.. "Don't start." he grumbled at her. "I wasn't given any choice in whether I attended or not, you know I hate these things. Hate this place." he frowned. "There's enough judgement pouring out of every single one of them in that room, I'd rather not hear it from my best friend, please."

He leaned against the balcony and reached to drag the princess against his chest and into a bear hug, letting out a deep breath. "I missed you.." he rumbled.

 

[Isiell]

Isiell was finishing up the last of her punch when an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind her.

"Was it you entertaining the child, Miss Isiell?"

A corner of her mouth curled upward. It seemed to be someone, at least, who liked to play.

"I took notice of his absence and figured he must have found somebody to keep him busy."

As he circled in front of her, she grinned. It was easy to see his appreciation of her form in his eyes. "I did indeed keep him busy for a while," she answered, her voice soft, belying the mischief she could accomplish. "If by child you mean the prince, and I do hope you won't be upset that I'm... quite a bit younger than he is."

She let her gaze wander over him for a moment. He was... almost her opposite in many ways. Golden eyes. White hair. A very solid build. She knew she'd never met this Duannan, but his appearance seemed to bring something to mind, some story she'd heard of.

"I do not believe the two of us have ever been properly introduced. I am Nairth San'Seya of The Spring, Chamberlain and Hand of Oberon. It is my utmost pleasure to see the face that goes to the name at last."

Soft laughter fell from her lips as he bowed, and when he rose again, she met his gaze once more.

"Lady Isiell, Chaos Fury of the Dawn Court," she gave her own introduction. "Formerly the nightmare of the Winter Court, though it seems you know all of these things. I've heard stories of you as well. Lover of Arethil... kinslayer."

She almost wished to have been there to see it. What chaos must have swirled around and through him, that his own offspring would anger him so much to bring forth such a response.

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

It was oft difficult to discern age, especially among their own kind. Fae tended not to be constrained by years in quite the same way that mortals were. His admiration for her appearance did not lead to any spoken compliments, only the sliding of his eyes, and the tilting of his head as he offers her a light, playful smile. "

Ah, one can be as old as time itself and still be a child if they are still weak and immature of mind." Despite how it may have sounded, Nairth did not say the words as an insult. "The dear Prince is of age, but I fear he is ill-prepared to lead. He has not yet found himself." He searched that emerald gaze for an understanding of his words. Isiell was smart, but Nairth yearned to know if she was wise. Alas, true to her nature he saw nothing beyond the swirling clouds of mayhem in her stare. Calculating and quiet, but always chaotic.

She was all that he had hoped she would be.

Her title was a fearsome one, even as it spilled from the soft pink lips that had no doubt tempted many a man. It brought his eyes open once more, though they looked lower than face level with the equally tall woman across from him. His fingers drum lightly against his hand as she begins to speak of his own names. Her voice was so pleasant, so deceptive even as it delivered the bard she must have known would give her all of his attention.

He looked up at her ivory skinned face once more, his smile turning somewhat bitter. She was so bold.

Kinslayer.

Kinslayer.

Kinslayer.

It repeated in his head like an echo-chamber, a dull throbbing pain settling in his head. "Miss Isiell..." His speech was even, unaffected. He seemed no worse for wear to the eye. She would know though, now she was one he would remember. "It's so flattering that such a lovely creature as you would know a humble servant of the Spring." Of course, it wasn't so. The position of Chamberlain was such that many of the attendees, including High Lord Vaer himself, deferred to his authority.

Even as she'd struck him though, he gazed at her with the most affectionate and grateful of smiles."If you're hoping I shall lose myself once more though, I'm afraid you'd be better off trying to drive me mad yourself..."

Isiell

 

[Midir]

Midir's eyes creased with amusement behind the stag skull mask and instead of replying straight away he spun her instead. His fingers grazed along the inside of her arm from her bicep down to the tips of her fingers, his hands warm despite the icy pressure of the magic that pushed at his skin. Their fingers parted and they moved past one another.

"None of my court would call themselves humble," he murmured close to her ear as he pulled her back against his chest. This time he did let his lips graze the delicate shell of her ear as he spoke before his hands clasped her hips and hoisted her into the air as if she weighed nothing.

"Tell me then, humble faerie," Midir purred as he set her back down and spun her to face him once more. "What's your name?"

 

[Fraeya]

She was soft against his hard lines. She tried not to shudder as his hands moved. At the graze of his lips against her real ear beneath the pointed facade. A lesser dancer might’ve stumbled at the sudden lift. Or lost their form.

But she held.

Lean form adjusting. The muscles she’d built up during her time in the woods remaining strong, even if they were humanly so. She was sure she could thank her human birth mother for her grace, whoever she was.

“Oh? What would they call themselves?” A small lift of her chin. Hands adjusting back against him in their proper place. A small, sharp inhale through her nose trying to keep her breathing steady as his body pressed against her own.

“And tell me, King. What is a name worth to you?”It wouldn’t be long now. A spin or two more and then she could let go. And Delun would be free to leave. And so would she.

 

[Midir]

Ruthless and strong were the first adjectives that came to mind. His people would name themselves so proudly, for to be those things was to be a part of the Autumn Court. Being 'humble' was for Spring. Oberon seemed to pride himself on it, the Aether knew why. In Midir's experience those who professed to be such a thing were the most far from it and he did so hate those with two-faces. At least he knew where he stood with his courtiers if they were proudly ruthless and strong.

None of this he said aloud though. All he did was offer Fraeya a smile that was all perfect white teeth.

"For a humble servant of my court?" he pretended to muse it over. "Another dance should please such a person. Maybe even a... private audience," the Erlking spun her away from him once more, eyes raking over every little detail of her costume. It was quite marvellous magic really. Nobody but a High Lord or one of the Rulers would see beyond it.