Fae Courts Life, Freedom, and Revelry

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Raphael paused with the wine a bare breath from his lips.

"Free... time?" his brow furrowed in confusion as though the concept were an alien one. The act lasted for a good few minutes before he caught her concerned look and gave the smallest of smiles. Only then did he sip at his wine and cast his eyes back to the fight. "I like to fly on my days off," he said it so softly she would have to strain to hear it if she were not a Black Shuck. It was a tiny little secret he kept to himself and his brothers out of fear the Erlking would clip his wings too.

"I have a... home away from the Autumn Court I visit," Endora was a paradise that Lorcán had created and it had only taken one look for Raphael to fall in love with it as much as his friend had. He envied him in the same breath he was happy for him to have escaped his fathers clutches a little more. Raphael could only be thankful the prince had let him share in that secret paradise. That is... if he ever forgave him for bringing his mate to the Winter Hunt against his wishes.

"And yourself? Is... partying a common hobby of the Black Shucks?"
 
It took a few minutes before Raphael smiled and that is when it hit Samara that he had been messing with her. She narrowed her eyes at the same time a smile crossed her lips. Her amusement died a little when he said so quietly that he liked to fly on his days off. It was clearly something that he did not want others to know.

His expression grew distant when he mentioned that he had a home away from the Autumn Court. A secret and a place he loved. Maybe she was doing something right after all. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, Raphael," he did not have a reason to trust her, but perhaps he could trust that the statement was straight forward with no room for tricks.

At his question to her, she shrugged. "I guess I mostly train when I have the chance. I like reading and drawing. I enjoy going out and running in my canine form. Getting away from all the Sluagh politics." She realized speaking it out loud that her life was actually rather boring outside of work.

She chuckled at the second part of his question, "I do not know if it is common for the Black Shucks as a whole. I enjoy the free drinks, free food, and the people watching. It is truly entertaining." She drank some more of her wine with a sigh. "I am also weird, I enjoy being about other fae and making friends," she shrugged.

Raphael
 
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Samara Khalid said:
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, Raphael,"
Click to expand...

Raphael jerked and glanced at her in bewildered surprise. Had he really been so see through? That was an alarming thought. Whilst he quietly mulled over that predicament he also listened with growing curiosity to her own list of hobbies. Drawing and art had never been a skill he had possessed. Lorcán was the artistic talent amongst the three though he hadn't seen his friend create anything in centuries. He hoped Maeve would change that once his friend could adjust to the mad need to protect and own the bond brought out in him. The running though... the running he thought was quite close to the reasons why he enjoyed flying.

"I am not much of a runner," he admitted with a grimace and then flexed his wings as an explanation. "And I can... certainly see the enjoyment of people watching," but that was more a part of his job than a hobby.
 
"And I am not much a flier." Samara gestured towards her lack of wings with a genuine laugh. She could imagine that flying was probably superior to running since you did not have to worry about the ground or obstacles. It did sound wonderful. Samara closed her eyes and smiled at the thought of the wind running through her hair at a far greater speed than she could hit on all fours. Yes, that did sound wonderful.

She opened her silver eyes and finished her second glass of wine in a single drink. She knew she should slow down, but she most likely wouldn't do that. "I like to try to figure them out," she looked around and caught sight of a huge man who looked particularly grumpy. He was watching a petite man on the dancefloor with another man.

"Like them," she pointed. "I do not know their actual story, but I like to imagine that the big one and the petite were a couple. Now the petite one has the gall to show up to a party with someone else on his arm. The big one looks like he is about to rampage through everyone to win his love back." She shrugged with a smile. "I like to entertain myself."

Raphael
 
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Lord Rerreno is truly gifted, Signe thought to herself rather dreamily, blocking out the majority of his words to intently stare at the glittering lights that created a scene that she herself felt like she had witnessed in person. Plus, it was sparkly and shiny, and who didn’t like something that had the reflective abilities of diamonds? This changing scene completely enthralled Signe greatly— unfortunately it was so much so that she Rerreno’s velvety voice was only pleasant background noise. All too soon, the changing scenes of mortals and depictions of unmentionables were gone, leaving Signe to pout ever so slightly before she brought her green gaze up to Rerreno and beamed.

“So, isn’t that like cheating?” She asked, the excitement still in her voice despite the denotation of her words. “That’s almost like brainwash. And brainwash is slavery.” Suddenly Signe scowled, and then stood closer to Rerreno, as if she were to whisper some grand conspiracy. “So, everyone know’s what’s going on the Night Court, but I’ve heard that Prince Tulok is most definitely very desperate. A man like him is bad news, seriously. He wants to rule but everyone knows he’s just one big master manipulator. Brain wash… um, or blackmailing people, yeah, he does that. But he doesn’t do that with um… Zoros… zor… zorrens! He does that with all fae! And humans but you know humans like to be told what to do.” All of this said was in the upmost seriousness before Signe turned to Siobhan.

“Right, Siobhan? Isn’t Prince Tulok the worst? And he’s mean to the kelpies!” Signe added, looking down and realizing she had an empty wine glass. “Uh oh,” she said, giving it a fourth look as if wine would suddenly appear. Water. She should get some water. Her green gaze found the bar and a mischevious look that would earn praise from even Sybil appeared. “Yes, well, excuse me, I need some water… don’t look at where I’m going.” She whispered, slinking away, once again leaving Siobhan alone.

Siobhan Lusce The Brothers Vitae
 
With ease, Casimir had begun a beautiful choreography with his sister, one that involved the both of them moving their bodies in sync. Hips and shoulders were swaying, the feet swift and the hands and arms were expressive in their movements. He placed his hands on the small of Astrid’s waist, and with a deep breath, he picked her up and spun on his own. Placing her back down, he twirled her, holding her hand up above her head.

“Jago most definitely can’t dance,” Cas agreed and with a smug look, pulled Astrid in close to whisper the next bit… just in case Jago was around and could hear him. “You’ve seen the way he walks, stiff as a board. If he even thinks of swaying his hips I think it would sound like a squeaky wheel.” With both of her hands in his, he pulled away from her with a large step back and then taking a step forward pulled the two of them back in to each other. “I don’t really see the others being fond of dancing either, though.” He said a bit absently. “Or, if they can dance it’s probably just the stuffy waltz.”

Astrid Bielke
 
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Raphael's gaze followed Samara's nod to the trio in question. He blinked somewhat in surprise at her story for them and found himself chuckling at the colourful scene she painted. The scenario he had come up with couldn't be more different and he wondered what that said about his personality in comparison to hers.

"An interesting take," he mused and watched the way the petit man glanced over his shoulder towards the hulking figure. His adams apple bobbled nervously and Raphael could see the glint of sweat when he twirled under a lantern. He shook his head. "I believe the small man owes our friend here some money though," he countered. "Or perhaps, more likely, owes our friends boss some money and the big guy is here to shake him down but has been given orders not to cause a scene," he couldn't imagine their hosts would be too keen on a brawl breaking out in their home.
 
Siobhan listened to Lord Rerreno’s story with surprisingly rapt attention. She was not usually one to care about politics, but these brothers had created an entire race. When he finished speaking, her tipsy sister immediately with rambling about slavery and the Night Court. She was still unable to get a word in by the time Sybil had scampered off to find some water.

“Forgive my sister, Lord Rerreno. She tends to ramble quite a bit when she drinks and I am afraid that is what has taken over her.” Siobhan sipped her wine and smiled at the Lord. “What exactly do the Zorren’s do now and what do the mortal think they are? This whole thing is very peculiar.”

Signe Lusce The Brothers Vitae
 
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Samara listened to Raphael’s take with amusement. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she was right, or perhaps neither of them were right. “Would you care to make a bet on our stories, Raphael?” She had a feeling one of the two scenarios were correct and they would soon know which. The song ended and Samara leaned forward slightly to watch what happened next? “In or out?” She pulled two coins from her pocket and held them in her palm face up with a sly smile. Betting was usually a winning option for making friends…unless you beat them too often.

The small man disentangled from his dancing partner and started to head towards the big man. Samara looked at Raphael and waited for him to decide if he would join her or not.

Raphael
 
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Raphael casually dropped his two coins on top of hers without turning his gaze away from the unfolding scene before them. He casually tipped the popcorn box to the side to offer her some at the same moment the petite man suddenly broke into a hasty run.

The large gentleman gave a low, rumbling growl and gave chase, shifting into his Black Shuck form mid stride. The Shucks were normally quite large but Raphael had never seen one quite so huge. He actually felt a little pity for the smaller fae who was busy trying to weave through the crowds. When he glanced over his shoulder and saw a monstrous black dog bounding after him he gave up the pretence of subtlety and begun shoving people out of his way. Despite his best efforts the shuck was on him in a few strides sending him crashing to the floor. The fae whimpered like a mewling kitten begging and pleading, apologising for upsetting Alfonso - whoever that was - and that he would make good on the bet by the end of the week.

Raphael casually collected his gold as the fae was hoisted by his scruff into the air and carried out in the jaws of the shuck.
 
He was here.

He was not particularly thrilled about it. But he was here.

Be more social, Asemir had said, go to this thing because I cannot make it, he insisted.

Honestly, it felt like the last several thousand years of his life had been lived at the whim of that incommodious duannan. It was decided approximately three seconds after he'd stepped out of the ley and into the festivities that he would be here no more than three seconds past his cue to leave. Said cue had a penchant for changing, but Baenon always knew it when he saw it. There existed a recipe for duration of stay at any social gathering that involved the number of known entities divided by the taste of music to the power of how strong the drinks on offer were.

There were many unfamiliar faces, and a few of inconvenient familiarity. Baen knew little about the Vitae Court - was it even a Court? Wasn't it just three brothers? What, exactly constituted a Court at this point? Could he start a Court as well?

The Curmudgeon Court, population: Baen; Tenets: Silence, Symmetry, and Singularity; Motto: Go away.

With a sniff he calmly smoothed the layers of his ceremonial robes and approached the first fae he recognized in the crowd: Samara Khalid .
 
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Samara grabbed a handful of the offered popcorn and started to eat it as she watched the scene unfold. No one said she was good at guessing what people were going to but she did enjoy it, none the less. "Well read, sir," she smiled at Raphael as he collected his winnings from her hand. She was not a fan of losing but she did like that he took her up on the bet. She would take the progress.

Samara was about to ask if he wanted to go for a walk or something when she caught sight of a Hound she actually liked. She practically hopped up from her seat and threw her arms around Baenon as he approached. Her fellow Black Shuck did not like being touched, but he had conceded to letting her have one hug per interaction. She took what she could get.

"Baen! What are you doing here?" Samara pulled back from the hug and smiled. She took her seat again and patted beside her for him to join them. "Do you know Raphael?" She hoped Raphael did not think this was his chance to escape.

Raphael Baenon
 
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The crooked strike was always one of Wulren's more effective attacks. That being said, this particular instance seemed a bit too effective. Even the lord of war winced as he witnessed Luella bouncing off the wooden post which made up a part of the fenced ring. He watched her crumple to her knees, opening his mouth to call for aid, though a shift in her form caused him to pause.

Slowly, the warrior woman started to rise and Wulren couldn't help the smile that grew upon his face as she took her feet. The wild angry look in her eye, the way her hands gripped the hilt of her sword, and the determination to see it through were all things to be proud of, even in such a moment as this. Still, there were rules to his ring, and he wasn't in the business of demolishing his guests on a whim. "Unforgivable would be your lovely head rolling in the dust from a friendly duel." Wulren's blade flicked up and came to rest on his pauldron. "You live because I didn't desire to take your head with that stroke. You fought well, very well." To emphasize his point, the wolf brought his left hand to his nose, and with a snort, shot a small spray of blood onto the ground. "But the duel is over." Wulren's voice lifted up, letting the attendees to the ring hear his commands. "Ale! The warrior's earned it!" Cautiously, he started to her while a pair of mugs were fetched for them. "Now before we make room for the next challengers, might you allow me to heal your wounds, Lady Balsinde?" There was a sincerity in his voice that hadn't been there before. His previous compliment had been true enough, but it existed to be tainted with the next insult. This time, he simply wished for her to know her achievements. Not many could boast making the lord of war bleed.
Luella Balsinde

Varo's dark eyes twinkled at the idea of adding another book to his collection, if only temporarily. A fanged grin touched his features and he offered Olyssa a grateful brow. "I would be honored to aid you in such an endeavor." Rising up from his bow, Varos took a sip of the dark red wine in his gasp, his tail flicking as the flavors flowed over him. "I would however, like to know the subject of the book. Is it a bestiary? An analysis? Or perhaps something more opinion based."

How often had his brothers assumed that he would stand in silence in times such as this. It was true that an open mouth often led to closed ears, but even a master of secrets could enjoy speaking openly from time to time. Especially when it was one of the few conversations he'd been able to have outside of his own family for quite some time.
Olyssa

Signe's initial questions brought about a tilted head from Rerreno as he pondered her words. There was certainly something to be said for her points and a case could possibly be made for them if things weren't properly explained. "Well, we don't really touch thei-" he caught himself as the woman continued, loathe to interrupt her, even with the change in subject matter. Still, his silence did bring about some information as he absorbed what he could about this 'Tulok' fellow. I'm sure Varos will like to know about him. Then as fast as the lady had made him ponder his actions in life, she was taking her leave. "By all means, enjoy yourself miss Signe."

Turning his attention back to Siobhan, he accepted her apology, a weary smile touching his lips. "It's quite alright. It's been some time since I was with such energetic company. It's refreshing." Taking a moment to compose his answer, he a small sip form his glass. The Lusce sisters certainly had some interesting questions. "They are recuperating. They've recently taken a rather harsh loss. As for the other mortals, some believe they are legends. Some don't know of them at all. Yet others know they are real, and those ones either see them as guardians or foes with impressive skills. Varos seems to have something in mid for them, but he's been hesitant to tell us what. Seems myself and Wulren will have to wait to see what surprise my crafty sibling is cooking up," he said with a sigh. "Still, I trust it will be well worth the wait."

Signe Lusce Siobhan Lusce
 
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"No."

Raphael made the gold vanish about his person and didn't move to stand to greet the other male as he approached. Instead he took the opportunity Samara had given him in vacating her seat to give his wings a good long stretch before folding them back over his chair. He spared the Shuck a brief glance - more to ensure Samara was actually happy to see this male - before returning his attention to the fighting. Or rather, the tale end of it. In their people watching they had forgotten about the fight which was truly a shame. He didn't let the disappointment show on his face but he set his popcorn aside and reached for his glass instead.

Casually he hooked an ankle over his knee and glanced back up at the two shuck's standing. There was something normal fae did when the person they had been talking to introduced another of their friends to the gathering and what was that now... Oh. Right.

"Would you... like to join us?"
 
Olyssa's wings fluttered with her suppressed joy that someone outside of the nymphs and brownies and satyrs might be interested in her work. Greater Fae didn't tend to be too bothered about the little creatures that shared their realm with them unless they provided some great purpose such as being good guards or fun things to hunt for sport. She inclined her head casually to one of the small booths that ringed the room.

"I have written all of those before," she explained as she walked over to the quieter spot and slid into the seat. She hoped that sitting across from him would mean she wouldn't have to strain her neck quite so much to look up at him. "I like to travel around the Courts and catalogue what I find, or if there is a particular problem I will write a petition or opinion piece. In matters of beasts my opinion carries some weight and I like to use that when I can," to help, to guide. Allegiance to a Court kept her from doing much more but as a Wyld fae she would have even less sway. "But this book is actually about the reintroduction of some of the creatures we thought extinct," her eyes danced with excitement and she leant a little over the table as she said it in an almost husky whisper, such was her excitement.

"I've been tracking their descendants for a while and I believe there is a way to bring back some of these mythological animals and I think it would actually cure some of the problems our ecosystems are facing naturally."
 
Luella’s vision was still blurry, the jeering only making her suck air in through her teeth. If looks could kill, everyone would be dead—including their offspring and the family dog. Unable to see the smile on Wulren’s face clearly, the only thing she could do was focus on his words. Her expression was once determined and calculated but soon turned surly which showed just how irascible she truly was. Her nose had crinkled up as if she had smell the worst rot, her full lips pressed into a hard, thin line to keep back from baring her teeth as if she were some animal. The look was complete with her eyes and pale brows being furrowed together, seething and shooting daggers at nothing in particular.

The worst part was, she was more angry at herself than she was at Wulren. He had won fairly, it wasn’t her fault he had millennia upon millennia on her— on top of genetics allowing him to build muscle easier and be taller than her. And yet, the phrase, you live because I didn't desire to take your head with that stroke, was the only thing that she heard. She was a warrior, and a perfectionist, praise of any sort hardly mattered when one could focus on all the mistakes they’ve done. And Wulren had pointed out her biggest mistake in entire brawl.

“I’m not some pathetic child!” Luella roared, dropping the claymore from her shaky hands. There was no reason to swing when she was sure to miss— and maybe lose her balance completely. Her mind was racing: Was it because she was a woman? Was he seeing her as some weak thing to be taken care of? A bird with an injured wing? Wasn’t her defeat enough shame as it was, or did he really need to gloat and heal her on top of things to further show just how helpless she was?

“You think you hurt me? I’m perfectly fine!” Her voice cracked and as she spread her arms out to show that she was “fine” she winced. Her head was pounding. She took his sincere tone as a pitying one and because she had never liked losing, Luella balled her hands into fists. “Don’t think you’ll see another victory with me again,” she growled, taking a step forward and having a right hook ready in case he tried to help her. With the way her vision was combined with the ringing of her ears, Luella huffed dramatically and began stomping out of the arena, using her affinity to aid her even if it meant her head would hurt worse later on tonight.

Whether it was the fact that Luella was storming off, her signature scowl, or the fact that her dress was stained with blood, all fae alike moved out of her way, as quickly as possible. She found her way to a restroom, using her time there to wash the blood off her face and chest as best as she could. Slowly her head began clearing up and she unbraided her hair, brushing out the knots as best she could with her fingers before heading back out. Squinting at the harshness of the lights, turning her head to the side and finding the bar top. She snorted, ale? Yuck. Not strong enough to keep her headache at bay and so went over, ordering herself a most needed and excruciatingly sweet drink.

The Brothers Vitae
 
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Signe was being oh so naughty tonight, perhaps the troublemaker streak secretly ran in their family, and hers only showed itself after a large glass of wine. Speaking of the devil itself, Signe had snuck her way over to the bar, a mischievous smile still gracing her fair face as she went up to the bartender, leaning eagerly over the countertop and tilting her head up at him. She placed her empty glass and slowly slid it towards him as if this were some sort of illegal deal that needed every movement to be slow and precise, if only for dramatic effect.

“May I have another, please? I think it was that… red one. Cabernet Pinot something?” If it weren’t for Signe’s looks she most definitely would have been ignored, but something about her earnest green eyes and that tilt of her head compelled the bartender to refill her wine with what she had previously. Without thinking much about Siobhan having to carry a conversation by herself by a very powerful fae who created their own race and could make pretty lights appear whenever he wanted.

She drank her wine, humming and thinking over the night’s festivities so far. She had danced with Siobhan, talked to Lord Rerreno, drank some wine and got another glass… oh look at that, she might need another one. Which reminded her, Siobhan and Lord Rerreno would probably need another too, how long had it been since she left them? Suddenly looking worried, Signe decided that it might be best if she went to go and find them again. She glanced down at her wine glass, not having much left and shrugged, she’d leave when she finished this and would grab them all another round as well.

However, the moment this decision was made, much to Signe’s horror, another duanann came to the bar, her dress stained red as if she had just stabbed someone in the chest. She gasped, covering her mouth. And they said the Night Court was bad! No one killed one another so obviously at parties. No, they used fanciful placed poison instead. Much more discreet, even if not always humane.

She gulped down her wine, taking a step back from the blonde female and looked over at the bartender. “Another, and two more glasses filled. I need… I need to go back quickly.” She whispered, glancing over at the scary woman with the mean face and quickly looked away. Once handed the glasses, Signe whispered a thank you and scampered off away from the bar. Oh she had to tell Siobhan about this.

“I’m back!” She chirped, slightly holding up the wine glasses as she made her way to Siobhan and Lord Rerreno after he had answered Siobhan’s question. “And look! I brought wine. Or… more wine. Well from the bar, it’s not like I went back home to get it.”

Siobhan Lusce The Brothers Vitae
 
The single hug per interaction had been permitted nearly a year ago to keep the woman from pestering him incessantly about being more approachable, and thusly - it was expected. Baen braced himself for the inevitable, the drawn line of his jaw tightening as her arms swung barbarically around his whole self. He counted the seconds for which the giddy bitch clung to him, taking measure that each successive hug did not last longer than the last.

Seven seconds. Good. ...was that popcorn sticking to his robes? Where the fuck did that come from?

"Baen! What are you doing here?"

"A question I have been running on marquee in my mind ever since my arrival," he replied, nonplussed, and picked the popcorn kernel off his neckline in distaste.

"Do you know Raphael?"

Tourmaline eyes rimmed in black shifted immediately to the second face; a poor, despondent man who looked equally as thrilled to be there as he did. Poor lad, he must have endured two hugs. Luckily this Raphael answered the question for him. No.

"Would you... like to join us?"

Baen's gaze flickered briefly to the flash of shock-white moving from the arena below, finding the face attached to it being that of Miss Balsinde, before targeting Raphael once more.

"No," the shuck returned tersely, "I must make my rounds." So that I can promptly leave, he didn't say.

A glance was given to Samara and her maniacal grin. Baen schooled his own expression to look appropriately dull and unengaged, "Until the next Hunt meet, Samara." And off he went. One down ... a dozen or so to go. Moons, it was going to be a long hour.

"I did not take you for a cocktail woman," his voice next intoned to Luella Balsinde 's right at the bar. He gave her a keen once-over look, noting the fresh bruising of her pale skin and the blood stains on her dress. His nose didn't miss the smell of blood, sweat, and not-so-faint desperation, but he wasn't about to remark on it. "Did you have a disagreement with some stairs?"
 
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Samara really needed friends who liked her. Calling Baenon a friend was a stretch anyway though. He suffered her and she backed off harassing him as much. She couldn't help that she was a social Shuck. She said bye to Baen and watch him walked off. To think he was one of the nicer ones made her chuckle.

She say Luella making her way from the ring and she grimaced at the blood. "Poor Lue, she is going to be in a foul mood for the rest of the week now. She does not like to lose." Samara was her friend though and she would be there for her to rant to.

Samara looked at back Raphael and was a little nervous to ask her next question. "Do you...wanna go for a walk? Or something. I don't know. You can say no. You can tell me to go away if I am annoying you..." She fiddled with her hands as she grew uncharacteristically nervous.

Raphael
 
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Astrid let Casimir lead them into a smooth and beautiful dance. He really excelled at it, and was much better on his feet than her. She admired him for it, he was a beautiful soul. She hated that they were always picked on by the other shucks, Jago mostly.

They twirled and Cas picked her up and spun her, driving giggles from a now slightly intoxicated Astrid. They turned into a full on laugh as Cas made fun of Jago. He was no dancer, but the way Jago moved in a fight...she wanted to fight like that.

"Jago has nothing on you Cas, you're the best dancer I know. The others are too boring to dance. Can you imagine if Baen danced?" She was almost wistful about the comment. They had danced for a while, when she looked up at her older brother. "I'm ready for another drink, how about you Cas?" In truth, he was out dancing her, and she was getting tired.

Casimir Bielke
 
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Staring into the melon-green liquid of her drink, Luella was busy thinking of each mistake she had made during the fight. Tomorrow, despite her headache and bruising that was sure to take place in the hours to come, she would update her training regimen. Maybe she should incorporate more shadow boxing or more push up variants or—

“And I didn’t take you for a party person,” Luella said, gripping her glass a little less as she looked over at Baen. She didn’t hide her scowl, after all, he was rather used to it by now considering how she had yet to win a Shalaak game. Keyword: yet. She sighed as Baenon commented on her appearance and jerked her head quickly to the left, a series of six pops erupting from her neck cracking. With blood all over her dress there was no reason to be ladylike now.

“No, I just…” she trailed off, gnashing her teeth at remembering the defeat, the pitying words. Her facial features darkened for a moment before returning back to a that of a grumpy old man who yelled at kids to get off his lawn. “What are you doing here, anyway? I don’t see a Shaalak table.”

Baenon
 
One look into the others eyes and he had sensed an almost... kindred spirit. Another soul made to suffer for an extrovert forcing their own enjoyment of these things onto them when they would much prefer to be sitting alone at home. He didn't think Baenon was the type to force him into more idle small talk and so his presence could have been tolerated, especially when he seemed to be Samara's friend, but Raphael would have been lying if he had said he wasn't glad when he turned down the offer and left.

He was just settling back into the booth cushions when Samara gave him a look that made him go as still as a deer in the lantern-light. Her fear rose up behind her in a great black cloud with razor sharp teeth as it always did. The creature raked invisible claws through her hair and seemed to bring it to its mouth to taste. Then it broke apart and in its stead was a child huddled in the corner whilst two figures walked away. Abandonment...

You can tell me to go away if I'm annoying you...

"You're not annoying me," he said softly and rose to his feet. His leathery wings made a hushed whisper as they settled into their new position and he held out a hand. It wasn't often he was able to use his gifts to alleviate fear but tonight... tonight he could.

"Would you like to dance?"
 
Fear was a strange thing. It reared its ugly head at the most inopportune times especially when the fear had followed her from childhood. She worked hard to tamp it down and most days she was successful. Today was not most days apparently.

Samara looked at Raphael as he stood and held out his hand to her. She looked at his hand and then up at him with her silver eyes. She was not a good dancer, but she was also not about to turn down this offer. "I would love to dance, Raphael," she slid her smaller hand into his and gracefully rose.

As they started to walk towards the dancefloor, she felt it was safe to admit her failure. "I am not a very good dancer," she laughed softly as they walked. "One would think that being a skilled fighter would segway into dancing but I guess I have not danced enough in my lifetime."

She was not sure why she was extra chatty all of a sudden and she finally closed her mouth as they approached the dance floor.

Raphael
 
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Casimir was having the time of his life, nearly forgetting the fact that the scent of booze lingered all around him and his clothes were stained. The thought of Jago’s abuse was in the furthest crevices of his mind. Dancing had that effect on him, to make him forget all of his worries. He nodded his head, agreeing with his sister until she mentioned needing another drink. Then he eagerly nodded his head. Yes, another drink, that was very much needed.

“Then let’s go!” Cas said, pulling his sister off with him, nimbly weaving through the crowd once again and of course apologizing for every single step he took. He had a happy smile on his face until he caught sight of Samara, walking onto the dance floor and— was she holding hands with another man? The smile dropped, immediately, looking over the man briefly before some obnoxiously tall duanann couple decided to block his view. Curse these seven feet tall giants. Swinging his head back in front of him, Cas made his way to the bar. Who the heck was that guy? The frown only deepened. Did Samara only like brooding guys?

“Hey Astrid,” Cas began, solemnly, looking over his shoulder, “did you see… Samara back there?” He said slowly, still walking and not looking where he was going and bumping into the bar. “Oof, ouch. Okay, another drink,” Cas mumbled, looking around, his mind still on Samara and once again he craned his head to look back at the dance floor.

Astrid Bielke
 
  • Sip
Reactions: Raphael
Raphael was a secretive man for many reasons; his job, his past, his friends need for secrecy. It had become an integral facet of his personality to the point only two people in the world could claim to know him. That was why it might have been a shock that the quiet puca, who shunned contact with other fae whenever given the chance, spun Samara once in an elegant twirl as they reached the edge of the dancefloor. He caught her naturally and brought her close to the warmth of his broad chest as he bent and whispered against her ear.

"Don't worry, I've got you. All you have to do is follow."

A hand went to the curve of her hip whilst the other twined with her hand and without another word he swept her into the depths of the dancers with a surprising grace. He held his wings clear off the floor as he stepped and spun them, gaining speed then slowing down in a rhythm that matched the lilting music of the fae strings and drums.
 
  • Cry
Reactions: Sivan
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