Fae Courts Hounds & Horns

Threads open to all members of the Fae Courts group


The Erlking
Character Biography

Can you hear the Hunter’s Horn,
Sounding in the forest deep?
Can you hear the pounding of hooves
When night creeps in and people sleep?
In the dark night can you feel
That rush of wind- that fleeting chill?
Standing in the night-time wood
What will be his latest kill?

The sound of Horns and Hounds filled the twilight sky with its chilling symphony. On this night it was a sound that would be heard by the ears of all, not just the fae. There were stories across all Peoples, all Lands, all Kingdoms great and small of the Wild Hunt. For some it was a mere children's cautionary tale, and was laughed about by parents who sat by the warmth and protection of their fire. For others it was a lore passed down and whispered as a warning to loved ones so they might leave offerings outside their door. It did not bother the Erlking either way for Justice and Balance would reach into the home of the non believer as easily as it did the keeper of the old ways.

For the Fae it was a day of celebration. If their names were written upon the List then they knew how hopeless it was to run from the braying Shucks teeth or the swing of the dulachán's blade, so in their eyes it was better to end their life drunk on wine and in a tangle of bodies. For those that did survive it was cause of great celebration to be gifted another year on this plain of existence. They drifted here, to this spot, every year to see who would live and who would die. And on this night all were welcome no matter the past or bonds of Courts. Tonight they were all the same. All were at the mercy of the Wild Hunts Lists.

In the clearing will-o-wisps lit the pathways through the Wilds towards the clearing where the festivities were taking place. More of the smaller fae along with fire sprites decorated tree branches and darker corners to give the Higher Fae the light they wanted. Autumn had seized a hold of the great Wilds meaning its trees were proudly showing off their leaves in shades of tarnished gold, ruby reds and rich chestnut browns. Little else had been done in the way of decoration, the Autumn Court choosing to let the beauty of the Wilds speak for itself. Tables and chairs had been grown using earthen magic from the trees around them so as not to disturb the natural way of the Wilds. Food and drink covered every surface. There were golden wines from Dawn, fresh berries from Summer, delicious cured meats from Spring, and hearty soups with thick bread from Winter. Even peculiar delicacies from those of the Night, Dusk and Day Courts could be found on offer. Musicians played atop one of the various bulbous bits of land and the music they wove instead of blotting out the noise of hounds and horns wove through them, joining them into the jubilations.

Above all the dancing, talking and drinking, atop a grove where ancient rocks were arranged into a faerie circle, stood a white stag. Blood dripped from the sharp points of his antlers and dripped onto his alabaster coat. He watched over the festivities with an unwavering gaze; a King presiding over his Court. Occasionally a fae approached to curtsey or bow or lay an offering at his hooves, but the Erlking merely inclined his great horned head and continued watching all those who came and went.
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Paetr led a small retinue up the slope towards the festivities. His voice rang out over the others. They were garbed in relatively drab colours. Not because they were representing some facet of the night court, but because they returned from a minor victory with Tuloks forces. They wanted to show a proud, united and strong front.

Before Paetr inevitably led them into the worst excesses the night had to offer.


"I bet Saang is here that horny little fuck. I wonder if I'll get a word in edgeways before he's off slippi..."

"My lord..."

"What Gennelis? I was about to tell a story. Everyone fucking loves my stories so this had better be good.

"Er, my lord..."

Before Gennelis could speak Calogero - the oldest and wisest advisor to Paetr's family - placed a hand the shoulder of long-suffering Gennelis. There was no need to discuss rumours that would only invoke their Lord's temper.

Aeron, Paetr's weaponsmaster, remained as silent as ever on the fringe of the conversation.

"Fuck it, I've forgotten what I was even going to say now," Paetr dismissed. He would have to think of another story to keep his retinue amused. He was, after all, the centre of all of their lives and it was a great burden to keep them all happy.
It was only natural, and should have been expected, for Signe to attend a party if she had made laborious efforts to dress a particular kelpie into divine fae perfection. Had there been arguing amongst her and her sisters on what color and hue complimented Ianthe’s complexion? Had there been further arguing over how to style her hair (up, down, half-up, half-down, curled, wavy, braided, pinned)? Of course, there had been relentless chatter and opinions thrown back and forth, with each sister wanting to dress the kelpie as they dressed themselves.

Signe had lost many of the battles, but she had won the most important one: Ianthe’s hair. Usually she would have been nervous about touching the kelpie’s hair. Really, she had been nervous. Her slender fingers had a slight shake to them as they moved through the blue tresses that reminded her of the sea on a good day in summer. She had prepared herself to be the second sister to get kicked in the face but it seemed Signe’s centuries upon centuries of styling hair made it so she hadn’t tugged on any strand hard enough to call forth Ianthe’s ire.

She was glad that she wouldn’t show up with a massive boot print on her face. It wouldn’t have matched the simple and sleek satin chocolate brown dress that fitted perfectly over every curve and contour of her svelte body. Underneath the light it would shine with a copper undertone and in the darkness it looked very much like the tasteless truffle she had just popped into her mouth as she walked around the clearing. Thin gold chains tied around her swan-neck shimmered bright as they fell over the back of her straight shoulders and twisted at the small of her back.

Fiery red hair had been pulled up into a twisted chignon that allowed a select few strands to dance and flutter around Signe’s face. All at once, she stood out and blended in, very much conveying the essence of autumn. She might as well get into the forced transformation thrust upon her. The changing of seasons, from summer to winter, represented exactly how she felt in her chest: little pieces of her, just like the leaves, falling to be trampled into dirt.

It was why every step she took was careful and precise to not step on any of the leaves on the ground. Even when she paused, midstep, viridian eyes overlooking a table that held treats she adored. Flavors of her home flooded her senses and her mouth watered (how unladylike, unacceptable!) and the nostalgia made Signe too hungry to even eat. Food couldn’t fill her up. Even with her loss of appetite she felt weighted down.

Where on Arethil were her sisters? She needed a distraction. Even Ianthe kicking her in the face would do at this point.
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Was it too much?

Nerves had the second eldest daughter of the Lusces fiddling with the sheer fabric that was attached to and fell from the golden cuffs at her wrists.

It was certainly a cut and colour she never wore before, but the deep forest green colour complimented her auburn hair considerably. If a woman was to dress in this colour alone back at the Night Court... but it was her sisters that gave her courage and confidence to pick out the dress.

Despite the high slit that exposed her thigh, Seryn felt pretty again.

Her hair had been brushed until it fell in glossy waves, but it was nowhere as put together as what Signe put together for Ianthe. It was all the time she had for after succeeding in dressing the kelpie, having won over the decision by quietly presenting the dress she improved with a few embellishments and embroidery. It suited Ianthe more than anything, and it made an unfamiliar pride swell inside Seryn.

All her embroidery efforts had been spent in her sisters, creating stories and pictures in their embroidered pieces, whereas Seryn did not display any of her handiwork.

She paused by Signe, wordlessly seeking just her presence than being alone amongst strangers.
"Paetr!" the other Night Court Lord's entourage split like a flock of birds from a pouncing cat as Lord Saang speared in from the side. An arm hooked over Paetr's shoulders while a wide grin split across the Commander's face, "See you've managed to get away from that ice shelf you call a home, how goes the northern battlefront?"

He was dressed in his very most fashion-forward-finest, as Saang was want to do for public events such as these. Robes of bright scarlet red to match the flame of his hair accented by gold in the theme of a phoenix. The front of the robes hung open, exposing his pale chest while pauldrons of golden flames crowned the entire ensemble. Though slightly shorter than Paetr, Saang made up for it with his bright and glowing presence that seemed to engender intrigue, warmth, and excitement upon the faces he passed by.
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"See you've managed to get away from that ice shelf you call a home, how goes the northern battlefront?"

"Saang!" Paetr cried out.

As soon as someone of a similar station was seen, his entourage - and all notions of entertaining them - had fled from his mind.

As per usual, they were quite happy being ignored by the Lord for a time.

"You absolute sexual deviant how are you!?" Paetr cried out the complement at the top of his voice.

"Excellent. I just met one of their armies trying to cross an actual ice shelf, wouldn't you know. Bent them over a fucking rock and made them wish they'd brought the good oil. Tens of the fuckers still in my dungeons considering their choices."

Paetr took a step back and faced Saang directly.

"Look at you!" he cried. There was both amusement and animal attraction in his gaze. He drew his fingers up Saangs lapels, framing his bare chest and then ran his fingers over a feather.

"You look like a deviant of an elf was fucking a phoenix. And then they fell off a cliff together and landed on the rocks."

He waved both hands to take in Saang's entire look.
Corridors dim and dark arches of great wood and glass.
It smelled like home looked.
"This is it!"
Curcurbita, cursed among the Fae was striding down the halls of the illustrious Autumn Court and felt like he earned this moment. This mismatched homecoming.
When he got to the entrance to the grand hall the announcer merely looked at him over his horned rim glasses and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't bother, nowhere is my name written, part of the whole CURSE thing!"
He pointed to his bulbous head with his fingers as he passed and strode through the doors unheeded and unhindered.
His hollowed eyes immediately struck where he was needed, and bow legged as a frog he made his way down the great stairway and across the hall, his coat of red leaves about him... Wait where did he get that? He couldn't remember but it was unimportant now.
The ERLKING was important and he approached in noble humility the great beast that was not a beast yet more and forever nothing but itself.
To be in the presence of such an Eternal was to face the true nature of the world.
It felt vaguely familiar to Curcurbita now as he bent low in supplication.
"Sire, King of this Fair Court.
Great Monarch of Wood and Leaf. Harbinger of Rot and Root of Long Ruts. May your head be ever high, your hoof sure and your crown ever fruitful.
I am Curcurbita, Amaideach. Cursed to bear this gourd of shame for sins unknown to me. I am not worthy yet by you great leave alone may I hope to attend my fellows here. "

When it was said Curcurbita did not rise. He waited for the Erlking to make his will known. For a fool he was but nay a disrespectful fool.
Like a gesture that was home, Signe hooked her arm against Seryn’s as she came to stand beside her. From a safe distance they could watch their brother and Lord Paetr.

You shouldn’t be nervous,” she whispered to Seryn, “Saang blows us all away when it comes to the sparkle and dazzle.” Not that it didn’t suit him, it did in a way that could never suit anyone else. But Signe knew Seryn had always preferred to be more subtle with her attire and the dress she wore was unlike any other she had worn before.

At least for now. When Ianthe arrives….” Signe trailed off with a knowing smile.

Seryn Lusce
This day was bittersweet.

No matter how hard Nairth San'Seya willed himself to relax and enjoy the endless delights and temptations of The Wild Hunt celebrations, the Spring Ruler felt the sour taste of dolor upon his tongue with every sip he drank. The last time he had attended this grand event, sacred amongst their people, he'd been the center of attention; His garb had drawn the eye of every woman, and his grace had left an impression upon even the staunchest of his critics. It had been the final time he'd made an appearance as The Chamberlain, before his coronation. It had been the final time he'd been truly without any worry or woe weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Today he was King. With the crown of Spring also came new problems: Unknown enemies, lost friends, rising tension between his Court and others in the wake of Oberon's death. Of course, Nairth had expected these difficulties in his new position, but...

It was the lack of a prominent figure today, one he'd grown close with at this very event, that ate away at him. Eske of the Dusk was far more than The High Omnia to San'Seya. She was a dear friend, and at one time she'd been a lover.

That he now returned to the place where they'd addled their minds with nature's bounty and reveled in the pleasures of the flesh while she lay comatose in the bowels of Grovehaven Castle left him melancholy and bitter. She'd never gotten a chance to tell him of her true plight, and he'd never had the chance to help her combat it.

A failure of considerable magnitude, one he only tolerated until he could find a way to restore her to health.

Despite his mourning, it would not do for one of his position to miss The Wild Hunt, and as was his way he'd arrived dressed in splendor for the occasion, his face alight with the reflection of light off of his painted face. The visage of a golden moth had been carefully crafted to cover his eyes, a glittering mask that seemed to melt into a painted design of sun-soaked flowers and flittering leaves of golden trees. No expense had been spared on his appearance for tonight's event, with his long and wild silver locks straightened and painted that same shimmering golden color, like rays of the sun falling down his back.

Those same golden streaks were painted in long tendrils down his body, bare save for the thin woven strip of leaves he wore around his waist that did little to conceal his flesh. He'd considered sending Tharu in his place, but he was away at the Vitae Court, handling business with the Brothers Three, and most likely consorting with his lover Shayleigh.

He would do as was his duty. Nairth arrived shortly after Curcurbita, the strange fellow who'd recently returned to Spring from some outing he'd yet to tactfully describe to him. The Gourd-Headed Fae split with the King to go and pay respects to Midir, and Nairth sat at one of the many tables laden with a bounty of food. Perhaps a meal would make him more receptive to a night of relaxation.

Or perhaps Maphesa would show up and whisk him away to a more private location, as she was becoming more want to do on a whim.
At least for now. When Ianthe arrives….”
This thought made a smile light up her green eyes, her lips turning upwards only slightly as she always had for all her life.

"If there were anyone to outshine our brother, it is with the collective effort of his sisters. You did a fine job with her hair, as you did mine." Seryn's hand gingerly went to touch the careful and artfully braided crown her sister managed with her auburn hair. It only elevated her dress, an accessory she did not think of but Signe did.

Seryn remebered playing with Signe's hair when she was much younger, and patiently sat down for the younger Lusce to experiment with the long locks of her hair. That thought brought more of a smile to her painted lips.

"Now, shall I wrangle our brother to dance with you, or shall we scope out another partner for you, Siggy?" It was seamless, stitching her arm through Signe's and steering her away, looking at their beautiful surroundings. "Does it not make you curious to see the other Courts? We have barely been here ten minutes and already I could feel the difference here than at home."

Signe Lusce
I am very good with hair, aren’t I?” Signe said softly, her eyes doing all the gloating for her as she glanced down at the hair she had so lovingly woven together. There was a pang of guilt in her chest as she realized that she had gone to other courts when Seryn had not. She even felt guiltier knowing how she had gone to the Day Court and had used a glamor to make her look like Saang.

She really hoped Favashi wouldn’t show up here. Saang would surely know of that embarrassing fumble.

The dancing can wait,” Signe said, glancing to their brother and to… oh, Paetr was here, too. Asking Saang to dance should most definitely wait. She spun on her heel so their backs would face the two fae instead. She caught sight of a peculiar fae with a pumpkin head, could almost hear the conversation with the Erlking, but her attention was elsewhere.

It’s different here.” Signe agreed. “We match the scenery.” She added. What else was there to say about Autumn Court?

Seryn Lusce
The white stag stood silent as the Gourd-Headed Fae spoke and bowed. Blood continued to drip from his great antlers onto the ground around him. Where the blood landed flowers grew, bloomed, shrivelled then crumpled back into the earth. It was the only thing that seemed to move around the beast. Even the winds seemed to have stilled and decided to go elsewhere tonight. As the speech came to an end however the stag seemed to shift and then in a swirl of autumnal reds and golds it vanished, leaving behind a tall figure.

"I have not seen one of your misfortune for many years," there was a touch of amusement in his tone even if it did not show in the cold depths of his eyes. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and with a thumb he idly swiped it into his mouth. The Autumn Kings power seemed to thrum.

"You may attend but, mark me, Mallacht Amháin, tonight is not the night to test the boundaies of your punishment."
"I bask in the shadow of your generosity my Lord King of Autumn."
And Curcurbita stood but dared not meet the eye of the Erlking. For a criminal, even one who could not remember his crime, never had that right.
With another reverent how he backed away in deliberate steps his hands gesturing first left then right as he did.
When significant distance had passed Curcurbita stood and straightened out his cloak of leaves. The Erlkings warning was not wasted on him. He needed to not offend here or it was his head up first and troublesome as it was he wanted to keep his.
Still there was a feeling here as if the eyes of the great stag were upon him still and maybe they were, for did a king not see all in his own court?

Presently he found a spot not too far into the shadows of the court, where dark things swam in shadows wet and terrible. He was a monster yes but also a fool. This was a good spot for him. Half in and half out of sight. Where he could be seen and also ignored.

A passing serf let him take a drink of dark liquid which bloomed smokey vapours from it's rim.
He supped it slowly and his eyes came to rest on the Entourage of the Night Court.
Ah, yes, sometimes he truly did miss Paetr's curious company. Saang smugged at the fae's flavorful opinion on his chosen wardrobe for the event, "No one spins words quite like you. A Lord Poet, General of Wordsmiths, to your magnificent metaphors," he offered a playful bow of his head, briefly spying the flame of red hair that marked the presence of his sisters among the guests. Best to keep Paetr's attention elsewhere... his arm shifted to steer the fae toward a table brimming with refreshments, "Come, drink and tell me more of home. How fairs your dear mother?"
"Why the fuck do they wear these things?!" Ianthe snarled as she tripped once more on the voluminous skirt of her dress. A group of nearby sidhe gawped at her as she gathered up the layers upon layers of fabric then tore a split up the front of the dress. "What are you looking at?!" she bared her teeth at the onlookers sending them scurrying on towards the party, chittering amongst themselves and casting looks at her over their shoulder. They could talk all they wanted, Ianthe scowled down at the fabric in her hands and clenched them into fists.

"I should just go," she muttered beneath her breath as other party-goers flowed around her. She hadn't wanted to come in the first place.

When Saang had approached her for a smuggling run she hadn't imagined in her worst nightmares it would end with her in a dress attending some kind of social event. She'd intended to just drop the five Night Court refugees off at the Winter Court and leave but when they had arrived it had been late and so she had agreed to stay the night. The next morning the Lusce sisters had been abuzz with news of the upcoming Wild Hunt Ball, and then they had mentioned Saang would be meeting them there...

"I shouldn't have come," it was stupid and frankly, pathetic. Doing all this just to have an excuse to talk to him. She could talk to him any time, he had made that clear when he had freed her. It was just her stupid pride which kept her from calling in socially. Ianthe took a deep breath then counted to ten as she let it out. Well, she was here now and she had suffered the hours the redheaded nightmares had insisted it took to do hair, cosmetics and dress. She would have turned up in her hunting gear if she could have but the sisters had insisted there was a dress code. Judging by the amount of nudity around they had certainly embellished that truth.

"Would rather be naked than looking like a cupcake," she muttered to herself as she stomped on into the main meadow.
"Goobada goka!"
Wrongtoe agreed fervently. Their own garish dress was like a carefully wrapped present had imploded on itself. Behind them a trail of ribbons flowed and the colour clashed relentlessly with their red cap.
Minute next to Ianthe the Goblin had already devoured the flower crown it was wearing but a moment ago.
"Thrukah jip chagaga!"
They did not like it any better than Ianthe did and they were not going to stop telling people.

"Come, drink and tell me more of home. How fairs your dear mother?"

Paetr paused for a moment. Being entirely immune to sarcasm of any form, he was quite pleased with Saang's compliment.

He honestly had half a mind to propose they do something entirely sordid with those feathers. The problem was that Paetr was so legendarily good at sex that they would end up missing the whole affair.

That meant missing the drinking, the dancing, the hunting and the inevitable sex pile.

Paetr really liked his sex pile.

"Ah mother dearest," Paetr said, falling into step beside Saang. "She is up at Manyu Point, in the starlight and still touched by the moons. She has good and bad days. Only last week she was lucid and discussing some perfectly excellent battle plans with me...

"...And then the next day she ate her favourite man servant. Then again she did season and cook him. So who knows. Surely no one crazy thinks of their fucking herb garden at a moment like that?"
We match the scenery.
Seryn stifled a large grin by covering her lips with her hand, dropping her gaze so that it could not be seen so easily. "Signe!" She tried to muster up a stern voice, but the soft laughter won over. Glad to have company in the form of Signe, Seryn had wondered how the two Lusce sisters that took hours to preen themselves fit for public viewing were the first ones here. Perhaps they were so excited to see their brother, but there was no way she would approach him while he entertained his current company.

Many knew of the Lord of the Night Court's... personality, and it was one Seryn would like to avoid at all costs. They had all grown since leaving their home, finding something new in themselves within their refuge in the Winter Court.

"We must speak in softer tones so as to not be overheard. Saang said to behave, and we must abide by his wishes!"

Now that the two were taking a turn of the area dedicated to the event, she was able to spot the other guests. As subtly as she could be, she began to comment on the outfits each of them wore.

"Do you not think this is a rather bold lot?" Seryn murmured, eyes falling to a male Fae that was painted in gold and adorned only a thin layer of autumnal leaves. It made her cheeks flush brightly, complimenting her hair that curled to frame her face.

The arrival of the goblin went unnoticed as the third eldest Lusce spotted Ianthe in the distance. Seryn exhibited a show of rare excitement, gasping and holding in her glee by tightening her hold on her sister. The shorter sister tilted her head upwards, not taking her eyes on the wonderful beauty. "Oh Siggy! Does she not look radiant?"
I’m not…” Signe trailed off, deciding it best not to argue with her older sister. She didn’t feel like she had been misbehaving and knew for certain she was already talking softly. She had been quiet for almost half her obnoxiously long lifespan. It made her think it would have been better if she had been born mute. It would have been fine if she was— she had a expressive face and was even more expressive with her body.

A stiff, bitter nod. She reminded herself Seryn wanted the best for her. She reminded herself that she could say something back but she had chosen this silence on her own.

Viridian eyes moved in the directions that Seryn proposed as she spoke. Signe’s gaze was not shy towards anyone and she looked on freely. If she couldn’t speak then she would look as much as she liked. And looking at the masterpiece that was Ianthe brought some life back into Signe’s gaze.

This time Signe led, bringing the Lusce duo to Ianthe and Wrongtoe.

I like your…” she looked down at the rip in the dress and all the frayed threads, “enhancements, Ianthe. Very mod—“ her throat constricted at the lie. “Very you.” Signe moved out from Seryn’s arm, going towards Wrongtoe. “And aren’t you just precious, look at you!” She squealed with unbridled delight. “All these ribbons! They’ll look lovely with a spin or, no, actually, a pirouette. Can you do one for me? The ribbons would flutter around you and it’ll be like you’re being wrapped up in a rainbow!

Wrongtoe Ianthe Seryn Lusce
Large and wild eyes peeked out from under the red brimmed hat at Signe upon hearing her speak. Such happiness upset them. It was insulting. They had deliberately ruined a perfectly good dress and what did they get? *PRECIOUS!*
Wrongtoe took in the measure of this one and wiped a wet dribble from their nose with their backhand.
"Hukka nab jab-jab?"
*Are you a bitch?*
The ears wafted back and forth and they waited for a reply. Each moment their grin got a little wider, teeth a little more pronounced.They didn't have their weapons or pouch of tricks but they had one thing that nobody could take. Tiny, shark-like teeth. Rows of them.

Ianthe Signe Seryn Lusce
"Ah mother dearest," Paetr said, falling into step beside Saang. "She is up at Manyu Point, in the starlight and still touched by the moons. She has good and bad days. Only last week she was lucid and discussing some perfectly excellent battle plans with me...

"...And then the next day she ate her favourite man servant. Then again she did season and cook him. So who knows. Surely no one crazy thinks of their fucking herb garden at a moment like that?"

Saang gave this rather sudden turn of events for Paetr's mother a look of nodding consideration, "Surely not. Her appetite is clearly healthy then, and that's nothing but good news."

He blinked, gently cleared his throat and smiled handsomely, "Well, good news for her, not for the servant."

She could get another one, of course. There was no shortage of servants in the Night Court.

"With her at Manyu Point I suspect your manor has grown quiet and empty. Perhaps some grand children to fill the halls soon, hm? Any lady fae caught your eye recently?" Finding Paetr a match had always been a good past time - Saang playing Paetr's wingman had rarely been boring.
There was no point in chastising Signe now, not when her eyes fell upon the demolishing of her hadwork on Ianthe's dress.

"Signe, I beseech you. Careful with that ghastly thing, please." Was all she managed to say before turning her gaze away from Ianthe's dress. She was not one to hide the hurt in her eyes, and so Seryn thought it best to fetch herself a drink to help distract her from the image stuck in her mind.

Torn fabric, just begging to be mended.
Signe beamed down at Wrongtoe, a slight bend in her knees as she leaned over to get a better look at the adorable creature before her. Ianthe was so lucky to have such a lovely pet! Did Saang gift this to her? She was almost jealous that no one had ever gifted her a goblin.

Who-ka nap jam-jam?” Signe echoed back, tilting her head to the side much like a curious bird. “Oh! Of course! You’re saying hello! Well Wooka bam lamb lamb to you, too!” Signe said and then went to scoop her hands underneath Wrongtoe’s arms and lift them up high into the air as she stood up. “You’re so delightful! I mean, hooba noobie mushu tutu!” Yeah, that sounded about right, didn’t it? She gently swayed Wrongtoe from one side to the other, admiring the fluttering ribbons. “Let’s dance. I mean, chum cha nobu fengshui mangia mangia el cuchillo!

She had meant to say Wrongtoe would be the perfect dance partner but good enough! Maybe her grammar was off but clearly Wrongtoe understood what she had meant.

"With her at Manyu Point I suspect your manor has grown quiet and empty. Perhaps some grand children to fill the halls soon, hm? Any lady fae caught your eye recently?" Finding Paetr a match had always been a good past time - Saang playing Paetr's wingman had rarely been boring.

"Do you know what my house is quiet for Saang? The sound of my mother encouraging me to take a wife!" Paetr protested with a roll of his eyes.

"So thank you for putting that topic back on the table."

Paetr picked up a goblet of red wine. One of his people rushed forwards, but the High Lord waved him away. He didn't want to look weak in front of Saang and have it checked for poison.

People tried to kill Paetr with a remarkably frequency. It was to their great frustration that he refused to die.

"You know how I love my excesses, but settling down? It would take someone remarkable. Too many women have too many opinions and sound like my advisors or worse... I can wait another few centuries."
"The colour palette is... so..." On second thought, Solenne pursed her lips into a thin smile as she appeared by the King of the Spring Court. "I never liked red. Much too alike to blood and other awful things such as... blood."

The wings at her back fluttered as if the shiver went through them and not her spine. Long, pin straight black hair had been adorned with only yellow leaves, complimenting the gold shimmering on her eyelids and making her rusted red irises glow.

"At least I can get away with this bright colour." She reasoned to herself, looking down at the bright yellow dress she wore. Solenne had to tear out the back to make room for her tattered wings, but overall was happy with her appearance for this event.

Nairth San'Seya
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