Fae Courts Hounds & Horns

[Wrongtoe]

All the whole behind Signe Lusce, the goblin Wrongtoe was dragged. Tiny hands clutching her dress as they attempted in vain to help Signe break free.
Now, before the Erlking, they both stood. Wrongtoe using what parts of Signe's dress they held to hide themselves poorly.
Big eyes and bigger ears poked out from behind the flap of fabric.
"Neep!"
*Fuck!*
If one asked Wrongtoe why they didn't just bail on Signe Lusce and leave her to squirm under the glare of the Great Stag you would have gotten a bite on the shins for an answer because the reason was simple.
So simple few might ever consider it.
Wrongtoe was a terrible goblin sometimes and that meant, on occasion, they did the honorable thing.
This was one such time.

Midir Signe Lusce

 

[Curcurbita]

He slunk back. From the dark corners of the ballroom his carved features glowed orange.
Something terribly seriously was happening inside him. An absence of memory stirred and shook itself awake. Drawn from the circumstances he now found in his surroundings. The sudden break of unrest. Destruction, chase, violence and now judgement to be served.
He became aware of his height, his body, dead and strong. Unkillable.
A shadow of a thought of ill intent patrolled the perimeter of his consciousness.
Then it left, as quickly as it arrived and he was lost again. Unknowing of himself and others.
Trapped in his fuzzy half remembered safety. Away from the mad freedom knowledge brings.
His eyes softened and the snarl that formed on his face faded to a kind of bewildering smile. His usual one.
"Oh, that was... Something."

 

[Saang Lusce]

"Oh good, they're actually enjoying the evening!"

"Bring them here. Both of them."

Was Ianthe seeing something he was not? It wasn't often Saang felt self-conscious about his height, but today was proving a challenge to stay confident when so many of the court in attendance were taller than he. Blast, where was Paetr? He would be able to see! The Night Court Commander quickly cast a surveying glance about the dance floor where he had last seen his friend and sister. They were nowhere to be found and he instantly felt his hackles flare.

"Where?!" he trusted Paetr with his life, the lives of his family, but maybe not their virtues, "So help me I will geld that fae and feed him his own-" but his ire was cut off at the knees as he found a vantage point near the edge of the dancefloor and finally spied that flash of crimson curls.

Saang's eyes went wide, first in shock and then in fury as he realized quite suddenly it was Signe that had caused the scene. It was all he could do to contain an eruption of heated flames upon his shoulders and crown. Couldn't cause another scene - Signe was already drawing the attention of the King to their family, something which he had strictly told his sisters not to do.

Behave. Lay low. Don't draw unnecessary attention.

If their mother were here she'd have beaten the Erlking to the job and smote the girl where she stood.

His gaze, wild as an inferno at the battle front, shifted to Ianthe in the same way it did when he intended to join the slaughter. Saang held no compunction against the atrocities and horrors of battle - but he would be a fool to say he was not afraid to face the Erlking. There were many reasons to stay on Midir's good side and so many more to stay off his bad.

"I must see to my sister," and he frowned, not just because it meant their first dance had been ruined but because it meant likely the rest of the evening was done for as well. He didn't want that. He wanted time with Ianthe to talk, to celebrate, to enjoy her company in a way he rarely ever got to. So he let his hand slip down her arm from where it had held her in the dance and gently attempted to take her hand instead, "Come with me, please?"

 

[Seryn Lusce]

If she knew there were not anyone mere feet away, dancing and conversing, perhaps Seryn would of made a decision of her heart and desire.

Instead, she sighed and dropped her head slightly. Her gaze dropped to his lips before peering down at their close proximity of each other. "We should behave. That was all Saang had asked of myself and my sisters if we were to attend tonight." It was also the safest choice, the one that made her feel calm and at ease...

But how could she settle the nerves Paetr caused?!

He was very handsome and as she dared to meet his eyes again, she wondered how many would have denied him when he looked to them with such wicked invitation.

"But I would like to give you something to remember me by. Something to look forward to the next time we are blessed with hiding from prying eyes." With the thrill of surprise and confidence, Seryn reached to his cheek, thankful he had tilted his face towards her own. There, she would place a soft kiss. Her thumb was there to wipe away the pink stain from her painted lips, giddy that she had done such a thing. She had never been kissed, but she was not exactly going to admit as much to Paetr.

"There." She whispered, lowering herself to stand flat on her feet.


Paetr <3 <3 <3

 

[Midir]

The Erlking watched the flight and subsequent capture of the two troublemakers with a bland mixture of irritation and boredom. He did not find it amusing in the slightest, not even with the little goblin clung to the High Fae's skirts in some feeble attempt to stop her from walking. He did not take any interruption to the Hunt and its celebration to be anything short of an insult.

The guards dragged the pair up the grassy pathways to the cluster of stones before which his skeletal throne sat. Midir watched every step whilst tapping the side of his glass in a slow, steady beat. Once they reached his feet, the guards threw the pair onto their knees before him and then stepped back, weapons crossing one another to bar others entry.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Explain. Quickly," the Erlking commanded.

 

[Ianthe]

Was it habit or that uncomfortable bubbling feeling that made her trail after him like some wretched puppy? One incident with his family was all it had taken for him to leave the dancefloor and their moment behind to rush to their aid. Bitterness and hatred laced the bile that rose in her mouth but she forced it down. She had no right to demand his attention. They were his blood and she was... she was... Ianthe focused on keeping her hands by her sides and not wrapped around her middle like she wanted to to ease the ache in her chest. She locked up her emotions in a tight iron box and painted what she wanted the world - wanted Saang - to see there instead. A lazy almost bored smirk played across her lips as she leant against one of the trees and played with one of the daggers she had slid out from its hiding place.

"If it's gelding you need doing, I'll consider giving you a discount this time," she wasn't entirely sure if he had heard her. His body suddenly seemed to go rigid and Ianthe's casual toss of the blade ceased. She shivered with delight when his eyes cut back to her and the steady beat of battle began to beat in the back of her mind. Yes, this was her Saang. He just needed to tell her who. To give her the sign of where to strike first. They would paint this whole clearing in blood. It would be glorious, monstrous, beau--

I must see to my sister.

Ianthe stared at him. Stared at the hand now outstretched towards her.

Fuck. Family.

It wasn't fair. She didn't want to share. Not tonight. Not with them. But he was looking at her in that way she thought meant he needed her, only her. Perhaps she was a fool to have convinced herself that look was unique to her over the years but she had. Gods save her, she had. With a sigh she wordlessly took his hand.

 

[Signe Lusce]

The guard got the best of her after all. Signe kept her head low. She had thought of things to say. With the slightest tilt, she caught sight of one of Wrongtoe’s little grubby fingers. She had left them behind and they had gone after her. They had tried to help her even after she ditched them.

Their grateful eyes when she handed them the pumpkin made something slimy recoil in her stomach. Signe took a shaky breath before icing her nerves. As long as she didn’t look at the King, she would be still. Her fingers wouldn’t tremble but she still folded them into each other.

“I wanted to dance with the goblin and made a deal to help break the statue in return for good behavior while we danced.” That was the truth. There was more: her truth. “But I must also confess that I felt wicked satisfaction from breaking something beautiful.” She wanted to beg for forgiveness for her insolence, but this wasn’t a sister or Saang or her mother. It was the first time Signe realized what it was like to be at someone’s mercy.

 

[Wrongtoe]

Leaping behind Signe with great defiance the goblin Wrongtoe took a positively ludicrous breath, puffing up like a balloon before speaking.
"Na boo thraka do whaj guggi chonk-chonk. Vee lupe tonk habba whochacha gum-gum. Narki arki garki."
*Your party blows chunks. We gave it some spice. Now everyone will speak of this night. Good thing too.*
After that they glared at the Erlking as if waiting for a response.
Goblins were never brave, it's not their way, but they are defiant and have an innate dislike of all rules and authority. As such. While Wrongtoe feared the POWER of the Erlking. They had absolutely no respect for their position.

Signe Lusce Midir

 

[Curcurbita]

Curcurbita turned away from the scene and dipped out to a balcony through a beautiful portal window in the shape of a Yule tree.
The night air was crisp and clean. He could feel it wrestle with the candle in his hollow head.
Ugly dead hands gripped the balcony edge and he looked over the domain of the Erlking.
The judgement that awaited those inside was not for him but he felt it anyways. The shame of his crime written on his form and the dreadful inability to recall it.
This proximity to power, to punishment, it irked him somehow. In ways he had no words for he asked a question that he knew had no answer.
His very existence was a question. A bundle of them really but he had not ever wondered about it and now he had the awful feeling that he wasn't supposed to be able to wonder at all.
So he wondered alone and watched the Winter Kingdom, stiff as a board and silent as the grave.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Their dance slowly came to an end, and as Solenne came to rest against her chest he held himself still, allowing the both of them to descend slowly from the heights they'd reached with one another. The King could feel the Sidhe's breath heavy against his flesh, slowing with every exhale as her thoughts and emotions regrouped within the confines of her mind.

When her eyes rose to his face, San'Seya's gaze was elsewhere, looming over towards the commotion that some of the other guests had caused with mild curiosity. There was usually some ruckus during the Wild Hunt feasts; spirits and passion begat such happenings even to the Fae. That the Night Court had once again been the source of such a disruption was far from surprising.

Once again, it seemed he would not be able mend that particular relationship. A shame. They truly did seem to be improving somewhat.

It was when Solenne pulled from his embrace that he returned his attention to her, blinking away the introspection in his eyes and smiling softly at her words. "One would think. But it is a story shared without words, known only to those who have been told. The tale I have told you is but an approximation, whereas the true depth of the legend can only be felt-- imagined in between the notes of the song itself." A uniquely Spring fable, to say the very least. The concepts of possession and physical being were rather fluid to Nairth San'Seya, and he preached that fluidity to his people.

The Spring ruler closed his eyes, his smile growing fonder as he remenisced. He'd indeed grown up with it, but in a far more personal manner than perhaps she expected. "I was born in the vast shadow cast by the very same tower, and I devote my life to protecting the lands surrounding it, Solenne..."

Solenne

 

[Paetr]

"There." She whispered, lowering herself to stand flat on her feet.

He stood over her, drawing a slow breath in through his nose, holding it and then expelling it as a soft sigh.

Despite his infamous lack of self-control, Paetr did respect Saang. He wouldn't have allowed events to spiral too far out of control. He would not Hve ruined Saang's younger sister, but Seryn might have been returned to the party with bark chips in her dress, wondering what Paetr had done and left a lot out of breath.

"There."

He agreed. Paetr leaned back and she was freed from the confines of the shadow. His smile was easy, but there was still mischief lingering in the corner of his eyes.

He reached out, running a thumb beneath her lip as if adjusting a smudge. There had not been one. His other hand grasped the wrist of her hand that had come for his hips.

"You will have to think of this moment for some time," he said. Paetr released her wrist, but his fingers slid down her wrist, over the palm of her hand and gently, but deliberately across two fingertips. "When you're alone and need to stay warm through the winter nights. I know I will."

"Shall we take a slow turn back," he said, returning his devious hands back to his sides. "Find out what the ruckus was and see if your brother has stolen some more hearts?"

 

[Solenne]

"I was born in the vast shadow cast by the very same tower, and I devote my life to protecting the lands surrounding it, Solenne..."

Solenne blinked, hearing his words. Her eyes darted to the commotion happening beyond the pair, flicking to each face moving to the goblin and the copper haired Duannan. There were a small number of them here, a family she realised, and the thought gave life to a small smile at her lips.

She looked up to the King, studying his face as his eyes had still remained closed.

"It exists? This structure?" Curiosity was a tricky path to set foot upon, but Solenne was capable of navigating through it. Her dark brows knitted together, eyes narrowing in thought. "Residing in the Spring Court, I assume? Why have I not seen it?" She thought to herself. The Sidhe was a creature of habit, stuck to the areas she knew where to hide from those that wished to harm her. A haven was made in the thickest parts of trees, where none would think to look for her.

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Seryn Lusce]

How her heart raced and begged to be free of the confines of her caged ribs.

Seryn was dazed, floating on the last sensations that thrilled her body. All she could do was watch him as his thumb brushed under her pouting lip, her panting breaths warming his hand there before her tourmaline eyes dropped to see his other hand take her wrist before gently prying two fingers free and holding them there.

Her cheeks were flushed, not at all settling in colour when she realised what he spoke of.

"A very slow turn." She agreed, lifting a hand to feel her cheeks before settling at the rapidly rising and falling of her chest.

Calm yourself! Seryn exhaled slowly and heavily to regain a regular heartbeat, for she was convinced the guests would hear it.

Seryn took hold of his arm once more, pressing her forehead to his shoulder for a moment and taking in his scent. It would be difficult to forget such warmth... "I fear there will be competition this night. Who would steal the most hearts between my brother... and you."

That would have to be kept out from her letters she planned to send. That would be only remembered on as a memory in her mind only. Her little secret.

Paetr

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

Nairth's eyes slid open once more, looking down at the sidhe again as he was pulled from the scenes painted by his mind by Solenne's voice. Again she questioned him, and he found it rather humourous how boldly she trudged forward with her search for the answers she sought in him. That was not to say he found it irksome. On the contrary, he rather admired such honesty.

"Well, I should think that obvious." He muttered, reaching out and pressing the tip of a finger against her forehead. It seemed a belittling gesture initially, but as Nairth slowly dragged his digit down and over the bridge of her nose, a golden-colored trail followed. The same paint that Nairth wore on his body now marked her face, if only partially. "You simply don't know where to look." Nairth answered with a smirk.

"Moreover," He added, "I could ask the same question of you. A Sidhe of Srping unseen and unnoticed by me is highly unusual. Many of your kind flocked to the city that I have build for us all to live in, and yet this is our first meeting. Why have I not seen you?"

He had a guess as to her answer.

Solenne

 

[Solenne]

It was a sheepish smile adorning her face when Nairth inquired about her scarcity. To tell him the reason made her nervous all of a sudden, unsure of how he would take her word. Most brushed it off as nothing, but they do not know the scars she must bear in doing so.

So she laughed, shaking off the nerves. "I am not one to wander far from what I know. I know that where I choose to reside is safe and I need nothing more." Now that no one else was dancing, Solenne made a move to exit the space dedicated to it. Her peculiar rust coloured eyes flicked to the commotion, watching to see what would happen.

The Sidhe lifted a finger to tentatively touch the paint the King left down her nose. "And large gatherings of my own people... I am not comfortable with." She continued in a soft voice, turning to see the King of Spring, as she knew he would follow.

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Saang Lusce]

Saang offered Ianthe a look of deep gratitude as her own hand found his. Hers was not the soft and delicate of a court lady, but the rough and strong of a warrior. A killer. In that moment he quite preferred her hand there over anyone else's. With Ianthe beside him he had cleared many a battle front and claimed many a victory. She offered him strength and resilience in endless troves, it felt. Ianthe was probably the bravest fae he knew.

Emboldened, Saang pressed through the crowd now growing around the base of the Erlking's throne, his ears picking up the tone of his sister's whimpering excuses through the hush.

"Made a deal to break the statue for good behavior..." ​

Curse it all. Curse it all.

As her big brother he could not be more annoyed and disappointed in her poor decision making. Saang's hand squeezed Ianthe's to ensure he did not lose her or the courage she brought him, and stepped up behind the guards now crossing the path up to his sister, in clear and unmistakable view of the Erlking. Their weapons pressed against him as he stood there, jawline clamped to refrain from interrupting.

Signe did not have the experience or the wisdom of the way of the Court, but Saang most surely did. One did not interrupt a King lest they wished to make a bad situation worse. He would hold in silence until Midir issued his judgement. Perhaps ... if he was lucky, the King would allow someone to step forth and speak for the young duannan.

 

[Midir]

"Someone, not something," Midir corrected the way one might correct a persons pronunciation of the word scone. His eyes remained resting on the Goblin, barely sparing a look for the quivering girl. From his expression it was clear as to who exactly he thought was the root of all tonight's troubles. Wrongtoe's statements only condemned themselves further. It was a pity the girl had not just simply kept her mouth shut. If she had, he might have been able to spare at least her from the punishment for murder. He would have to find the Rightening of the Balance elsewhere; a thought that irked him more than their childish gambit.

"Murder is the crime for which you both shall be punished," tap tap tap, went his fingers against the glass. Magick hung thick and heavy around him and the voices of both Good and Evil whispered their thoughts sinuously in his ear.

Tap tap tap.

An eye for an eye? A favour? Their first born? A first kiss?

Tap tap tap.

Perhaps just a good bath for the Goblin.

Movement from his guards drew his eyes upwards and after a brief flicker of irritation a sudden slow, dark smile curved the corners of his lips.

"Ah, Master Lusce, as expected. And.... the free kelpie," his eyes glittered. "Not so expected."

 

[Ianthe]

If Ianthe could have shared Saang's empathetic magic and gleaned an inkling of what he believed her to be, the kelpie would have laughed. It might have even been just ridiculous enough that she would have forgotten the feeling of nausea rising in her throat and the way every noise seemed to suddenly vanish from the room. Only their steps and her breathing seemed to make a noise far louder than it had any reason to be. She couldn't tell him that the Erlking made her want to find the deepest ocean and never come out. She'd torn out the throats of her own blue-haired siblings with her bare teeth, had worn their skins as a cloak, and had laughed when doing it. She couldn't be scared of a mere man.

Yet she was.

She had an uneasy fear of most men if she was being truthful with herself, born from years of living in the Night Courts dark and twisted depths. She gripped the hilt of her dagger harder and took small comfort in the sharp familiar feeling of pain as the metal bit into her flesh, anchoring her to the reality of the situation. Saang had freed her, Saang wouldn't see her in chains again.

But when she saw the way the Erlking smiled. The ideas forming behind those cold eyes, Ianthe began to wonder: would Saang sell her for his sister?

 

[Signe Lusce]

Signe would’ve made a better ice sculpture by how still she stayed. She also would have been the better model and not let her fingers have looked so ugly like the frozen fairy had. The thought of murder didn’t bother her. Her feet bled because of her passion, so what if there was more blood on her hands? And so what if her punishment was death?

What would be unexpected to everyone if they knew was the relief she felt instead of fear. She had thought about death often the last few months, only forgetting about it when she first awoke. Dreams of drowning and soft strangles that kept their love and murder in her throat. She had wanted to live, back then. Signe stared hard at a brown leaf on the ground, noting how the tips of the leaf were russet. Now, death didn’t frighten her, but she wouldn’t want her siblings to be sad. Whenever her imagination took a dark turn and it was one of her siblings gone instead of her, she’d cry for hours.

Clearly, that didn’t translate well in having her siblings not picking up after the messes she made. Signe’s shoulders slumped, muscles relaxed. No more Signe, no more messes— her body would be the last one to clean up.

Wrongtoe Saang Lusce Ianthe

 

[Wrongtoe]

Unacceptable.
Even Goblins had standards, though they would all deny it if asked.
Full of indignant rage Wrongtoe hopped onto the prostrate form of Signe and stood up.
"Feello pickamack soot hah hah ragga. Gagga sham teerna vulpa!"
*We had a deal this Duanan and me. A deal must be honored!"
Wrongtoe knew they were the lowest of the low but that wasn't the point. They were never going to have this opportunity again to try and make a fool of a king in his own court and the thought of death was very quickly overshadowed by how famous they'd be for being executed for embarrassing Midir. They'd get a statue in the center of the Goblin Citadel
Their scrawny hand pointed an accusatory finger at Midir and that glint appeared in their eye that Ianthe had come to associate with a suicidal recklessness.
"Fra thracka Signe Lusce, eeko deeko peeky boo Wrongtoe sla Midir Erlking hubbub!"
*For the freedom and innocence of Signe Lusce, I Wrongtoe officially defy the accusations of Midir Erlking!"
Wrongtoe paused for dramatic effect and enjoyed the weight of the moment.
"Ting tang walla walla BING BANG BUBBULLY CHUBBS!"
*I challenge you to a game of BUBBULLY CHUBBS!"



*The game Bubbully Chubbs involves both contestants filling their mouths with walnuts one by one and saying "Bubbully Chubbs" while pinching their lips into a purse. The looser is the one who either laughs first, spits out a walnut from their mouth, cannot say "Bubbully Chubbs" or chokes to death on a walnuts. It's fairly well known among Goblins as a way of shutting up noisy relatives and settling land disputes. Often at the same time.*

Midir Signe Lusce Ianthe Saang Lusce Seryn Lusce Paetr

 

[Saang Lusce]

Master Lusce.

Well, he supposed that was about as a respectable a greeting he was going to get. Midir could have addressed him as something far less. Could have ignored his presence entirely. Saang would take that morsel of acknowledgement and be content with it for now. The Commander bowed his head respectfully in return to the King and had parted his lips to speak when the goblin's feckless challenge soured the air.

Saang was not particularly fond of goblins as a general idea. He'd had more than plenty experience with them in the Goblin Market of his home to know they were not to be trusted. Yet in this moment he saw that those small few laws they governed themselves by did still hold as strong and fast as fae steel. It just might even save his poor sister Signe from a terrible fate.

Might.

He had some strong doubts the Erlking would accept and decided to keep his mouth shut to find out. Saang leaned to speak low to Ianthe in the quieting din of the growing crowd, "Do you know this goblin..?"

Ianthe was deeply invested into the Goblin Market with her current endeavors. While he did not like to assume, it was not terribly difficult to put 2 and 2 together to get an increasingly unfortunate 4.

 

[Midir]

The Erlking stared at the goblin as the echo of their words faded into the winds. Then, Midir's head tilted back and he laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. It was the type that chilled a man's bones and sent children running for their mothers skirts. It was a laugh known to become before the slaughter; a laugh of power. Just as suddenly as it started it cut off and the King leaned forward with a cruel smile.

"And did your deal assure the Lady's safety against whatever repercussions would come from your actions?" he lifted a singular brow. "Did you promise anything to her other than to dance without - clawing, kicking, screaming, biting, spitting, drooling, urinating, sneezing, coughing, vomiting, retching, tooting, defecating, scratching, gurgling and crying?" He ticked off the exact words with a different finger.

"No?"

Midir scoffed.

"Put the Goblin in a bath, with extra soap. Make sure the nymphs scrub every inch, comb every tangle, scent their skin and file their nails perfectly," he waved a hand towards the guards. "As for you," his eyes then turned to the young Lusce. "Your payment will be to pay the same price as the Faerie you just shattered. For a month you shall serve as a statue here in this court."

 

[Ianthe]

Ianthe wasn't one for praying. She was convinced that if there were some grander beings who shaped the world around them had long ago cast her soul aside as damaged goods and not bothered to look back since. But with the weight of those old eyes and that laugh that made her teeth rattle in her skull she was tempted to begin perhaps at least asking for forgiveness if it saved her.

"Wrongtoe?" she glanced across and up at Saang as he leaned closer to her. As his hair fell forward she fought the urge to reach up and touch it, wondering if it was as silken as it looked. "Of course, they're..." she paused. Friend felt like a rather strong word and yet at the same time... not strong enough to describe her relationship with the redcap.

"They're my... person."

 

[Signe Lusce]

Wrongtoe’s filthy and disgustingly slimy shoes were on Signe. While she appreciated the goblin coming to her rescue she grimaced at feeling the grime beginning to stick on her clean hair and bare back. Yet, their bravery did manage to outshine such discomfort.

At least until Signe heard her punishment. She was tense all over again. She hid the disappointment from her face well as she raised her face, letting only the shock show.

“I hope not naked.” She whispered. Her dress was long. She hadn’t shaved her legs. There had been no need for it and besides, she had been too depressed to even wash her hair never mind shaving her legs.

 

[Wrongtoe]

Wrongtoe fought harder than they had ever fought before.
They screamed, wailed and pleaded so utterly pathetically that even a heart of stone might find some morsel of pity for the wretched creature.
The guards dragged them away as they cursed the hall, the court and the Erlking.
So horrified was Wrongtoe at the idea of being CLEAN that they felt blood pool in their mouth from the desperation of their screams.
Before long they were taken from the Hall down towards giggling nymphs and sweet smelling waters.

Wrongtoe has left the scene