Private Tales As Kingfishers Catch Fire, the Dragonflies Draw Flame

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
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Amalia

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Warm water in…a few pinches of yeast…stir…and now we wait.

Chirp.

And we…

Chirp.

We…

CHIRP CHIRP​

“Oh would you shut it already?” A voice called out from the back kitchen of some small family owned bakery. Well, it was family owned until Amalia had managed to convince the couple who owned it that her particular set of skills would be a great asset to their business. Of course, the particular set of skills she offered turned out to be nothing more than smooth talking and a pretty face- something she had learned to weaponize over a hundred or so years. The same skills she would rely on to get her close enough to what she wanted…and heavens she was close.

It had been only short of five years since her arrival in the Spring Court at the direction of her cousin, Queen Titania. The same woman who had stripped her of any claims she held for the throne had chosen her to be injected into other courts to gain intel and return so that she may destroy them when the time came.

Part of Molly assumed this was some overly complicated plan by Titania to get her killed without getting blood on her own hands. After all, who sends their scorned cousin out to mingle with the very kings and queens who wish to see her dead?

Several decades have passed since she first left to carry out her orders and although she had never quite succeeded in bedding a king, she had been keen enough to seek out those who know more about them than even they do themselves- their children, friends, even the servants who have been with them since childhood have revealed to Amalia what she wouldn’t have thought to ask had she been given the chance.

And now she waited for her opportunity to strike. Somewhere in these hideously lush forests, a cross-breed mutt of a Sidhe was taking care of his-

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

Her eyes were drawn to the window where a mass of colorful feathers peeked in at her, playfully chirping as she baked. While it wasn’t entirely uncommon to see a Kingfisher here, a small tag wrapped around its ankle would catch her eye.

“Who’s a pretty bird?” She whispered as she stepped closer, the bird responding by putting his crest up and spreading his wings. “No no no! Don’t go!” Her pleas were ignored as the bird took off towards the trees.

The owner of the bakery would begin to speak, begging Amalia not to leave as she opened the window wider and hopped out, chasing the rainbow feathers as they weaved through the trees. Feeling herself falling behind, she would quickly swap into her animal form, a large white- almost iridescent- cat. In this form, the bird stood no chance. One leap and she had caught the screeching bird between her teeth before the pair would tumble to the forest floor.

“Got you!” Back in her natural form, she lay on the ground, breathing heavily under the trees.

Razareal
-Title is a quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins [Please don't sue me ty]
-Also, enjoy the very relevant song hidden somewhere in the post. There will be a quiz.
 
For the Spring you shall Sower, and it will be your heart, lungs, and mind.​

The decree of King Oberon, the late ruler of Spring, still rang through his mind every day he awoke amongst the teeming expanse of life that was Falwood's southern forests. For years beyond count after those words had been spoken, they were the truth. Razareal's sole purpose became to guard these lands from any and all who may harm or disrupt its serenity, its purity. Spring's land became an extension of himself, the roots of the trees akin to his veins and the animals that roamed within were the sensations that ran through his body whenever he drew breath.

Still, in a period of extended peace, a man whose sole duty was to fight could go a little mad if he didn't find some sort of hobby.

These forests were home to all manner of rare or endangered creatures. The rapidly quickening expansion of elven civilization in the region meant the space for them quickly began to dwindle, and while Raz did what he could to stem the spread of modern industry, he was far from omnipotent. His new King, Nairth San'Seya, had created groves of protection to safegaurd many of the more dwindling populations, but said groves didn't offer the same havens for avian life.

So Razareal had contented himself with that task, creating a makeshift aviary out of the small home he'd forged from fallen trees and vines, where the rarest of birds could fly safe from the dangers of the quickly changing world outside.

After a few years of this, the magically tagged birds became almost as important to Razareal as his primary mission. So when one evening he was struck with a jolt of panic from one of the bound tags, he was quick to respond.

The direction the panic came from? Her.
​
Raz had been aware of Amalia's presence in his land for some time. She was sneaky, but perhaps not as much as she thought. She hadn't however, done anything too egregious in her time here, so the Sower of Spring had really paid her too much mind.

Now that he found her pinning down his only remaining Kingfisher as though she'd caught it stealing from her? She had his attention.

And hopefully, the warning shot of magic that singed the ground beside her was enough to get her to pay him some mind too.

"If you wish to keep your head on your shoulders, release the bird now."

Amalia
 
  • Nervous
Reactions: Amalia
The bird struggled to flutter its wings as it let out a shrill whistle, alerting other animals that there was something to be feared among them. She persisted, holding tightly onto it until she could sense an emotional response only slightly more refined than the creatures hidden about the forest. Though the emotion attached to the being seemed that of someone who had lost a pet, hearing its cries just in the distance, she could not be entirely sure who was just beyond the clearing until the ground just to the left of her head had been scalded.

She flinched, tightening her grip on the bird as it screeched just before she would sit up and glare in the direction of the tainted one. Her brow furrowed as she looked over him. Rumors of a watered Sidhe did not paint the image of the man standing before her. He looked much more elf-skinned than Sidhe. Though she looked frustrated, she was pleasantly surprised. It would be far easier to feign interest in someone who wasn’t the size of a gnome.

“Forgive me,” She opened her hand, allowing the abnormally calm bird to perch itself upon her finger. The bird preened itself as she spoke. “He was calling to me from my window. Kingfishers are well known for their reclusivity, you know. It is quite rare to have the privilege to view one outside of the paintings. I had to know where he was going.”

She pulled the bird toward her face and allowed it to nuzzle her. “I do love the seatherny the birds here bring me, but until today I was unaware that the Kingfishers don’t sing. They scream.” A quiet sigh followed the bird fluttering back towards its master. “How unfortunate that something so beautiful has no song to share.”

She held out one hand. “Help me up?”


Razareal
 
The two of them had never met properly, but Razareal had seen Amalia before. She was living on the land that he was sworn to protect, after all. She'd never caused enough trouble to warrant involving himself, but suffice it to say that the woman could have made a much better first impression on the impressive Sidhe. Polite though she was to him, Razareal couldn't claim that he had much belief in Amalia's sweet demeanor. Something about her seemed... far more bitter than she let on.

"Viewing a Kingfisher and gripping it in your hand are two very different things." Razareal finally responds, beckoning the bird with a finger before it flies back to him and perches on his shoulder, pecking idly at his pointed ear.

"The elves hunted them nearly to extinction here for their feathers and strong beaks. This is the only male remaining in Falwood, as the rest have moved north. I implore you to be more careful with him." It was a mere scolding, far more lenient than he would have been on a human. If she truly was repentant and wished to remain peaceful, he was not the judge to take away that opportunity.

No, he didn't trust her in the slightest, but he would forgive her transgression this time. Stepping forward to stand over her, the washed Sidhe adorned in a coat woven from leaves and vine extended his hand. "To you, it may sound like a scream, but to a female, it is a display of power and passion. A song is anything you make it."

The bird spread its wings and cried out as it took flight from his shoulder, headed back to the lake to hunt for small fish. Good, so it wasn't hurt.
 
She let him go on for a bit with his knowledge of the Kingfisher, taking note of his entire being. From the way he stood, to the way he dressed, Amalia would allow no details to escape her memory. His posture and the tone he used to speak matched the emotional response he hid beneath the surface. He was wary, rightfully so.

She could easily change that, but on the other hand it could be used to her advantage. Proving one is not a threat would be more complicated, but trust did appear to go a lot further than emotionally manipulating some fae. She concluded, accepting his hand, that he was one of those fae.

“Perhaps it is that you are a man. I can tell that your grip is not gentle enough to allow you to view the bird closely.” She held onto his hand a little too long as she pulled herself up. “You must treat them like a woman, with a delicate touch. They are fragile little things.”

Her hands remained on his as she continued talking. “Feel my hands. Go on.” Her gaze remained as she offered him a warm smile to make him feel at ease without directly manipulating him. Her hands were flawless. Manicured, smooth, and silky to the touch. Her nails were shiny like glass bearing no marks of anxious gnawing or filth from manual labor. They were the hands of a woman who’d been living a life of luxury, not a commoner who performed manual labor. “Do you feel how delicate they are? How soft they feel? They can reveal much about someone, not only how they’ll handle such precious creatures.”
Razareal
 
An unamused brow quirked up at her appraisal of his grip, even as she slid her palms along his hands in some effort to display how soft her flesh was to him. Razareal wouldn't deny that her touch was smooth, her words tantalizing, and her appearance alluring... The issue was that he wasn't one to be drawn into such things. Pleasures of the flesh distracted him from his work, and only very rarely did he allow himself to indulge in such things.

"I can be very gentle when given reason. Even so, the softness of one's touch can be just as much a deception as anything else. The spider swaddles the fly in a warm bassinet before it devours him whole." He couldn't tell what the woman was thinking, but Raz was far too wary of her for it to get too terribly far.

Amalia had the benefit that she hadn't harmed The Kingfisher, and that she'd respected Razareal's land so far in her stay. Should either of those have been false, she would have been met with far greater resistance. Once she was back on her feet, Raz pulled his hand from hers and brushed a spot of dirt from her shoulder idly as he spoke.

His touch was, in fact, surprisingly gentle.

"I assure you that the birds I care for receive the utmost care. So tell me, if you would, what drives you to hide out in a mortal household? Do you not wish for the safety of Grovehaven?"
 
Nothing. He felt nothing. Her unassisted attempts to sway him had received no reaction. What a bizarre creature, indeed, was this muddied half-breed. Amalia was almost inclined to believe he was completely defective until she sensed it again. Though only a hint, there was a certain wariness tainting his otherwise grossly neutral composition.

Of course it wasn't an advantage to have him working against her, but it wasn't an impossible barrier to break. "I suppose you are correct, but do I look like a spider to you? Is this...are you...trying to flirt with me?" The corners of her mouth turned upwards before she let out a laugh reminiscent of chimes in the wind. She only asked to get a rise out of him. Of course she knew it was not his intention. "How peculiar. Is it a way of you spring-folk to compare women to spiders in an attempt to woo them?"

His touch surprised her with the gentleness, but she would not respond to it. "Hide out?" She cocked her head, looking confused. Had Grovehaven, or rather its king, been slightly easier to conquer she would have started there. Unfortunately for her, the contact she had within informed her of the king whoring around with his Chamberlain. Her options, as it stood, were either to wait it out or take the half-blooded bait served to her on a platter.

"I am sure Grovehaven and the safety she offers is wonderful. The mortals have given me a roof in exchange for working. It's a bakery." She paused for a moment. "Do you not ever get bored of taking care of birds?" It was an attempt to blame something as simple as boredom for the vast list of jobs she had held over the past few years. "Oh what a silly question, of course you enjoy the company of birds. You've made it your career, after all. Perhaps I have yet to find something I truly love doing."

Razareal
 
Razareal had his own suspicions as to why Amalia chose to live so far out of the way, but even to one he suspected of ill-intent it would be wrong of him to throw stones when he himself had opted to live in isolation from the Castle. She was witty, though. He could not deny her roundabout accusation of flirtation got the slightest hint of a smirk from him.

"I assure you that if I desired you in such a way you would be very much aware of it." Raz offers with a tilt of his head, walking closer to her as he does so. "Had the circumstances of our meeting been different, the thought could be a tempting one, admittedly." He kept walking closer, until he was inches from her, mere breadths from touching himself to her before he slid around her instead, raising a hand towards the bakery behind Amalia and pursing his lips as he felt for any foul magic tainting the place.

Credit to her, she didn't seem to be using anything unusual on the inhabitants or the building itself.

"Taking care of the birds whose species hang on the brink of death is how I pass my time, but I have other things that demand my attention too. Like overzealous women trying to catch them, for example."

He turned his head to look back at her, that faint smirk still present.

"When things enter these forests with the intent to harm, I harm them instead."
 
Had the circumstances of our meeting been different, the though could be a tempting one, admittedly.

Razareal received a raised brow and an ever so mischievous grin from Amalia as he crept close. Her head followed him as he brushed past and sent one hand in the direction she had come from. She thought it a peculiar gesture, like a not-so-subtle hint that she should return to the bakery. "Perhaps we should meet again then." She extended a hand, this time in a much more casual manner. "Amalia."

She stated her name and waited for him to accept the greeting. "My name is Amalia and once again I do apologize for the bird." She would not delve further into her own background for now, but she could humor him if he asked. "I enjoy traveling, baked goods, and admiring avian life up close."

She would drop her hand after he shook it, "And now you tell me your name and something about yourself." She did not allow him to speak before she continued on. "You could start with why the King's commander lives so far out from the castle. Or why he seems more defensive over the land than his own leader. One has to think the lack of safety may pose a great threat to the king, no?"
 
Bold one, wasn't she? He gave Amalia but an inch, and she in turn took a mile from him. Once he'd assured that there was no magical manipulation being used, he turned back to the strange woman to meet an extended hand and a smile speaking of motives beyond a cursory greeting. Razareal flittered his eyes between the dainty hand and her grinning face, before slowly reaching out to grasp her hand.

"So long as you don't make it a habit, I'll not hold the event against you, Amalia. My name is Razareal, Sower of Spring." His handshake was gentle but firm, and he held her hand in his after it was finished, raising it to look at the back of her hand curiously. Her skin was flawless, of course, but it was the invisible blemishes he looked for, traces of darkness that would deem her a thread. Finding nothing, he let her palm slide from his. "You must forgive my wariness. It's not often I across Fae I do not know. There is always room for caution."

Then she pushed her luck, digging for information.

Normally it would have bothered him, but the brazenness and rashness of her questions towards him amused him more than anything else, bringing a small smirk to his face and a puff of air vaguely resembling a chuckle from his lips. "I'd say you have some work to do before I'm divulging such sensitive information, Amalia. Nairth San' Seya can handle himself, I promise you that much. You'd do well to remember that as well."
 
“Perhaps…” She contemplated the boldness of her question, deciding to tone it down. He still seemed too wary of her. “If you were to show me your collection, I wouldn’t have to make it a habit.” She did notice his inspection of her hand, but thought nothing of it. Maybe the Sower of Spring had a thing for hands, after all. She was no one to judge.

“Sensitive information?” Her head tilted. “And what good would that information be for me? If I was after King Nairth, then what reason would I have to be so far away from him?” She paused for only a second, unsure if Razareal would notice her slip-up.

Technically, she was not after Nairth directly at all. It was too much work to try to sleep with a King. Work Amalia was not willing to do. And, in her experience, others often knew more than enough about the people they served so closely with. For that second, she was worried. She did not intend to give off the impression that she was after something and so she would have to twist things back in her favor.

“That was a terrible fact about yourself. Telling me I have work to do. I was only curious about your living arrangements.” She rolled her eyes, sending just the tiniest amount of her own power into him. Perhaps it would make him more agreeable, more relaxed. “You could have easily just said ‘I’m Razareal and I think you should go home.’ But what fun is that? It isn’t every day you meet someone new. You admitted that, yourself. So humor me. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
 
She certainly had a way of making her logic sound as though it made sense, even when it very much did not. Still... there were few Fae in these woods that were willing to speak to him, with the stoic no-nonsense reputation he'd built for himself. Whilst he'd never admit it aloud, he was beginning to find her chattiness somewhat endearing. Odd... that wasn't like him.

"As I said, The King can handle himself. If you were after him, he would know." And if Nairth knew, Razareal would be made aware of the 'threat' in short order. Still, despite his reiteration, her magic did seem to soften his tone as he continued, dark eyes scanning over her once more, seeking anything that may yet lay hidden beneath her surface. "Since you are so curious, and in the interest of good faith, I will show you to my sanctuary." Wary of her though he was, the beauty he had cultivated deserved to be admired by more eyes than his own.

Turning his muscular form away from her, the leaves draping his bare flesh rustling like a tree in a gentle morning breeze, Razareal led her from the bakery, east into the thick expanse of trees that threatened to choke the unprepared with their density. The treeline seemed to move apart-- widen at his very presence to let him pass easier. Raz's bare feet crossed that meridian, pressing softly into the discarded leaves beneath him.

"Keep close, Amalia. The land closest to my home is enchanted to repel unwanted guests, but my presence will allow you to accompany me unharmed." After a moment, he chose to humor her further. "Something you do not know about me... I was born in the land of Summer, originally."
 
A satisfied smile was painted on Amalia’s face as Razareal seemed to relax, if only slightly. It was enough to ease her way into his haven and that was all that mattered. She wondered if it was his reclusivity that had caused him to be so easily swayed, but in the end it didn’t matter to her. He was opening himself up and she would jump on the opportunity to sink her claws into him.

She followed close behind him, wrapping one hand around his bicep when he instructed her. It was a dizzying experience to watch as the forest shifted around to allow Razareal and Amalia into the oasis which embraced their presence.

“You’re from Summer?” Outwardly, she showed no obvious response to his... news, though it did give her some worry. She had no knowledge of his age, and with her former status within the Summer Court, there was now the very real, and very bad, possibility that this was not the first time their paths have crossed.

She would have to prod further, but how could she without making her questions not seem like an interrogation? Fucks sake. She didn’t come here to learn the life story of some half-breed mutt and now it looked like she had no other choice.

“What made you leave?”
 
"Born there." Razareal reafirrmed her as the forest continued to twist and embrace them. It would seem as though the thick walls of wood on either side began to close in like the walls of a deadly trap set upon two doomed souls. Every time that the branches and bark would come within a hairs breadth of Amalia's flesh, nature's tendrils drew back at the Sidhe guardian's command. "But it is not, nor was it ever what I would consider my home."

Summer had never cared for him, never saw anything in him the way that Spring had. There was no love in his heart for the place he just so happened to come into existence. The thickness of the trees began to wane as they emerged at a clearing, the roots upending from the ground and running along the surface to support a small home held aloft by branches, the twisted veins of trees surrounding and lifting it up, with a woven cylindrical cage extending out from its rooftop.

Razareal lived here, in the deepest, hardest to reach corner of Spring. If Amalia was foe, she'd made a mistake coming this far, because there was no escape without the Sidhe she now clung to.

"My brethren loathed me. I am Watered, Half-blood, and yet the Prim is stronger with me than it is with any of them. I was a filthy abomination that should have died young, and the fact that I did not was an affront to them. So I left."
 
Her smug expression shifted to one of sympathy. "I understand that feeling all too well." A statement that, for once, was not some silly attempt to dance around the truth. In all the time spent searching for those who wished to hurt Titania the most, it had never really occurred to her that she could no longer consider it her home. At least not until either the Queen or Amalia's untimely death which loomed closer with each day.

Though Amalia agreed with the statements used against him, she would not tell him to his face. He was sharing his haven with her. It would be most unkind to belittle him so soon. A gentle squeeze of his upper arm accompanied her words. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. I must apologize on behalf of my Duanaan brothers and sisters." She pulled her hand away as quickly as she placed it on his arm.

"I must say it looks like they were wrong. Everything I see is nothing short of miraculous," She gestured towards his humble home, "If I ever find myself within the confines of Summer once more, I'll be sure to share your successes with her people."

She did not continue with the thought of returning home, instead walking ahead towards the small home, eager for whatever may be hidden within the secluded hideaway.

Razareal
 
In truth it wouldn't matter much to Razareal what Amalia thought of him. She could have thought him every bit as repulsive as the Sidhe who raised him did, and being from Summer, she would have that right. Here, though, in Spring, he was not just some Watered with aberrant powers. Here, he was more. He was the Sower. He was powerful.

"The apologies aren't yours to give, and I wouldn't accept them if they were from those brothers and sisters themselves. I've moved on in spite of them, and no longer desire their approval."

She was laying it on thick, and her subtlety was fading. Even so, the slight hint of her influence that had wormed its way into Raz's mind kept him from completely spurning her yet. When she pulled away from him, he stepped forward, making his way towards the small building, the leaves springing from the ground beneath his feet to lift him up towards the door as he approached.

The sounds of life seemed to amplify as he neared, the creatures in these depths recognizing and greeting him as he stood before the doorway. Razareal turned to face her from his altitude, smirking slightly at he display he'd just put on.

Even he had a small bit of ego.

"You wished to see my living conditions. I do believe you can see them well now, Amalia."
 
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