Private Tales Near the Edge Yet Already Falling

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The giggling mess was scooped off the floor and the man had began to carry her up the stairs. "Four..." She pointed ahead with one hand, her other arm wrapping around his neck. "Thank you Quacey." She leaned her head on him as he began to speak once again on his mission of helping people.

"Life and freedom." She shut her eyes for a moment. "That sounds nice. Very nice. I'd like to visit if I ever travel outside of the Autumn Court." She wriggled a bit at his tight grasp as he attempted to not injure her further than she already may have as she continued with her ramblings. "Do you have parties there? We sometimes have parties here, but I haven't gone in a very very long time."

They made it to the room pretty quickly. Second door on the right. Thankfully the driver had left it unlocked for her after bringing up her luggage. "This one." She pointed again and the pair entered. It wasn't the nicest place, but it looked comfortable and the bed looked soft enough. "Put.me.down." She demanded, reaching for the bed and forcing herself from his grasp so she could collapse on the fluffy mattress. "Oh my god. This is divine. Are they all this soft?!" She cooed, grabbing his hand and yanking it in an attempt to pull him onto the bed.

Quacey
 
The directions were not good. First she told him four then she began to pointing to different doors. All the while she had an arm around his neck and her face against his own. She was enjoying herself far too much while he carried her. The difference between how she was now and when they first met was as polar as night and day.

"Yes we have parties in the Spring court. No group of fae can resist. Parties are bound to happen. Perhaps the next one the Spring court throws you can attend."

Finally they made it to her actual room. The door had been left unlocked, which was a blessing. He did not wish to wait as she hunted down a key she may or may not have been given yet. So they entered and she suddenly began to squirm. So he let her fall onto the soft bed. Her words got a chuckle out of him. At least she was a happy drunk and not a sad one.

But he had not expected her to yank him so suddenly towards the bed. His balance was off due to his own drinks and having left himself relax too much after letting go of her. So he fell down onto the bed with her.

Quacey looked at Ophelia. What was her goal here? To be playful because she was drunk? Or something else? He was unsure and because of it did not get up off the bed immediately. If he was more sober himself he no doubt would realize it was a bad idea but not while he was this clouded in judgement. His curiosity to see what she wanted won out and kept him there.

"My bed is not this soft. Perhaps they prepared you the nice one?"

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Oh!" She yelped as he came crashing down onto the bed. "Sorry, I just really thought you should feel its. It's soooooo soft, isn't it? Even my bed back home isn't this soft." She sighed, catching her breath for a moment. She spent the time staring at him. He wasn't her usual type, dictated by her family. He was more rugged, less...affluent looking, unlike the beautiful Autumn men they had been setting her up with since her early 400s.

The perfect man to experiment on. And potentially kill.

Her attitude shifted from goofy to flirty almost suddenly, not subtle at all. "Quacey..." She propped herself up on her elbows, giving her best drunken puppy dog eyes. "Would you..." She looked away, a drunken giggle escaping her lips before she made eye contact once again. "Could we try something? Something...I haven't done in a long while." She had a bit of a rocky start, but eventually managed to roll over on top of him, their faces a few inches apart. "It could be dangerous. It's your choice."

Quacey
 
The fae found himself over the top of her after the yank. He had stayed there for a bit until his good senses reminded him to move off her because it might be rude. An action he did take. What followed next was a mixture of things he was and wasn't sure how to take.

She had gotten onto her elbows after an odd look was on her face. She gave him those pleading eyes. A question was on her mind but not yet her lips. She was being coy. The question was asked only for her to continue being coy after. Then she was on top of him and only inches away from his face.

Was she trying to flirt with him and suggesting they have sex? He was not opposed, even if a more sober him might out of principle. He was not opposed but it was a little hard to tell if she was.

"Are you asking for sex Ophelia? If you are then yes. If not then still yes. Whatever you want or need."

Ophelia Eärtári
 
His question led to more giggles from the drunken fae. She moved away from his face as she sat upright, still straddling him. "I guess...I guess I am. Yes. I am asking for sex." Her arms moved to behind her back, trying, and failing to untie the corset. It was a hard enough job to get out of the thing sober, but in her current state, it would be a miracle.

"Shit. I can't get it off." She, sighed dramatically before getting off the bed and turning to face away from him. "Help me, please?" A hint of desperation in her voice as she plead for his help in removing the garment.

Quacey
 
Last edited:
More drunken giggles as she straddled him. She guessed she was asking for sex. She guessed. This was followed up by her having trouble getting her corset off. She got off him and still had issues getting it off. Then came the pleading look and desperate cry for help with it.

It was signs they two should stop. Signs this was a bad idea. Not because of any curse but because they both were too drunk to be making good decisions. Especially one that could be life changing.

But Quacey was too drunk to worry about such long term thoughts. Those were reserved for sober Quacey as well as all consequences that came. Typical drunk Quacey actions.

So the fae got himself seated on the side of the bed and helped her with her corset. Not just her corset but all her clothes. His would go next and then their drunken decision the night had tried to tell them multiple times should wait till morning before making.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
The line between good and bad decisions was hazy at best. She was curious, dangerously so. It had been a very long time since she had last taken a life. What better time to figure out if your curse is related to loving someone than to have sex with a total stranger? If he lived, great for him! If he died...she had her answer. Either way, she was committed to finding out.

Of course she made no mention to him that he might be dead by the morning, that would surely dampen the mood for him.

The only thing she could manage on her own was to peel off the pair of long silk gloves that went slightly past her elbows as he unlaced the corset and freed her from the rest of her clothes.

She would wait impatiently for him to follow suit before inviting him to join her in the bed against both of their better judgement.

Quacey
 
It was perhaps mid morning when Quacey began to awaken. His head felt like it had taken a few direct blows from a very heavy mace. His eyes, already sensitive to light, blurred and burned when he looked to the little sunlight that made it through the curtains of the window. This made him wince, which made him notice the little ringing sound in his ears.

He needed water.

The fae began to move to get up but noticed that he had a woman wrapped up in his arms and legs. Ophelia. It was that woman Ophelia he met yesterday and was suppose to be helping. They were spooning and it appeared he was the big one. Why were they like that? He tried to think back on the events from the day and night before....

It was fuzzy. It was real fuzzy after he had ordered food for them. Judging by how bad his head felt currently, he assumed that food never did make it into their bellies. He definitely needed water and probably something heavy with fat.

But he still didn't know what had happened that night. All he remembered in a very vague way was the fact they had sex. No details just he knew they did.... And that would explain why they were both naked while spooning.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
  • Smug
Reactions: Zaire
She snored quietly, comfortable as one could be after such an exhausting night although most of it was a blur. The traveling must have taken a toll on her. It always did. She had dreams that she had met a man, handsome but someone she would never truly associate herself with and had played some games with him before succumbing to their animalistic instincts. Hundreds of lonely years had left her starving for someone to hold her, but she would never allow it. It was much too dangerous for the poor fool who fell in love with her.

"Mmmhmmm." She went to pull the heavy blankets up over her shoulders only to grab onto flesh. Oh no. Her eyes shot open and she untangled their limbs before rolling over, prepared to find the dead body of the man...Tracey? Pacey? Whatever he was called.

Panic was clear on her face as she turned to face him, ignoring that he looked mostly alive. She placed her hand up to his nose and mouth to see if he was breathing. He's blinking. He's alive? How? She said nothing, continuing to check for signs of life on the clearly living man before the night caught up with her.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck." She grabbed the blankets from the bed, wrapping them around herself, only making it to a large pot with a plant in it before she began to throw up the contents of her stomach into the pot.

Quacey
 
  • Nervous
Reactions: Quacey
Quacey blinked. Ophelia had been sleeping so peacefully before. A long mhm had left her and then she grabbed his arm. What she did next was why he had blinked. First she had fled from their spooning as if he was a bear mauling her then she placed her fingers up to his nose and mouth. More actions one would do to check if someone was alive.

Was she worse off than he was? Did she not remember that they had even had sex and slept together after in the vague way he had?

His unasked questions would receive no answers as she suddenly began to say "oh fuck" many times in a row as quickly as possible as she wrapped herself up in her blanket. He was about to feel ashamed of himself that she was not just regretting their time together but repulsed by it when she fled to a potted plant and began to expel into it.

The fae just got himself up and walked over to her. He knelt down and gathered up her hair. While she threw up he held her hair back with one hand while he rubbed her back trying to soothe her sure to be aching stomach muscles from all the heaving.

"I will find us some water once you are done. Rest. I'll take care of everything." Quacey said in a hushed tone to keep his own ears from bleeding at the volume of his voice.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
  • Haha
Reactions: Ophelia
How is he standing up? How is he walking? Shouldn't he be dead? She continued to heave, nothing but stomach acid coming out of her at this point. Still she remained in place, one of his hands holding her hair, the other on her back as she prepared to throw up again.

"I'm okay. It's been a long time since I indulged myself in...how many drinks was it? Two? Three?" The mere thought of alcohol sent her heaving once again. "God..." She collapsed next to the pot. "Sorry you had to see this."

Her eyes were drawn to the too bright rays of sunshine pouring in from behind the curtains. Oh no. "The funeral. Shit." She scrambled to pick herself and the blankets up as she ran over to her luggage, searching for another dress to wear. "I'm so dead. My family is going to kill me."

It took a few minutes full of quiet swears before she pulled out another black dress, similar to the one she had worn the previous night. Of course, it too was adorned with dark red roses and metallic detailing along the structural elements. "Speaking of, how are you not dead?" She asked, turning to him and squinting suspiciously as she dropped the blankets and slipped into undergarments followed by the dress. "Everyone I have slept with has died."

Quacey
 
Last edited:
The fae just continued to do what he could for her. She definitely had it worse off than him in regards to being hungover. Thankfully his stomach was holding itself together and not torn itself to shreds like her own.

"More. Far more than that." Quacey responded to her. He kept on rubbing her back even after she found a spot next to the pot to lay down. "No need for apologies. I'm not bothered by these kinds of natural reactions."

Shortly after she suddenly exploded into motion. The funeral. She remembered it and in doing so had reminded him as well. He went over and got his pants on while she was in her luggage. Once she had her new clothes out, he moved over to help her get dressed faster.

A brow was raised at her comments as they dressed her. Had she said what he thought she had said? Seemed strange but possible.

"It would seem that is not the case. We most certainly slept together and as you can see I am very much alive. My only ailment being this hangover. Perhaps there is a reason I live while they did not?"

He wanted to humor her a bit. If what she said was true then he now knew exactly what her problem was. How he could tackle guiding her through such a unique issue though was going to be difficult. No answer was coming to mind just yet. Not much other than a headache was however.

Once her dress was on he would say, "I will care for your hair. Focus on your makeup."

And then he would find a comb or brush or both to go about getting her hair to looking how it had when they first met. A task he was oddly adept at doing. The care her hair would be given was gentle and lacked discomfort. A bit of mild tugging the worst she would experience from him.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Perhaps there is. Perhaps you're lucky." She shrugged, her cold tone expressing she was almost annoyed at the fact that he was most definitely alive. "Do let me know if you feel faint or ill, though will you?" She poked two pearl earrings through her earlobes, the only white part of her outfit.

"My hair? A mysterious poet-turned-lover-turned-hairstylist? How peculiar...." She didn't stop him as he began to comb her hair, guiding him to the mirror as she went to coat her white lashes with a black mascara and cover her pink lips with a deep red lipstick.

Satisfied with the simple makeup, her eyes traveled down to examine the rest of her. Her hand grazed her neck, tracing the black and blue marks. "Did I fall?" She turned to him. "I truly can't recall anything. I don't know what did or didn't happen last night...." She rummaged through her bags for some sort of makeup that would match her skin, finding a pale white powder that almost covered them. It still looked as though someone had been choking her, but less bad.

"I guess I can keep my cloak on unless you have any ideas? Speaking of which, we should probably get going to the funeral before it ends. Don't worry, it shouldn't be long. I've calculated forty-five minutes or less to say hello, dodge questions, and leave. "

Quacey
 
"I am whatever I am needed to be for you from moment to moment." Quacey was trying his best to brush her hair as she put her pearls in her ears. "If I do catch the death I will be sure to let you know. One way or another."

He smirked a bit but it was short lived as they were forced to relocate while he was still doing her hair. Another annoyance but one any who had to comb hair would be familiar with. Once they were in their new spot she applied her makeup. Black for her lashes and deep red for her lips. She was taking full advantage of her pale skin it would seem.

And then she noticed the marks on her neck.

Quacey looked. A memory seemed to surface from the night before. His lips on her neck kissing.... Oh.... He realized what that was about.

"I must apologize. Would seem I got carried away while kissing your neck last night. Just remembered that detail from last night."

Her hair was finally done. She had some sort of plan already in mind and it involved him. His gaze fell upon her eyes for a brief, silent moment. Her mention of we meant he was going to be joining her to the funeral. His role had gone from hairstylist to escort. He would need to honor his own words here and accept without question.

"I will need to dress quickly. What else do you need to do? I can help with it before I do."

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes at his comment. "Perhaps I'll need to keep you around at a safe distance to make sure you do die."

An eyebrow was raised as he began to explain the nights events. "Kissing my neck...huh..." She admired her poor attempt to cover it up. "Cloak it is then. As far as I am aware, my family thinks my first husband is still alive, so you will either have to play the part. You know...smile and nod. Don't say a thing, avoid answering anything." She pondered for a few more minutes. "Or you can pose as a bodyguard..." She sighed.

"Both sound absolutely stupid, don't they? Perhaps they'll think it a joke if I say I met you last night and decided to sleep with you and bring you to my great aunts funeral. I'm sure it will go over well, right? I mean I was never known for my comedy, but I can try." The pace at which she had began to speak quickly sped up as she clearly became more and more nervous. She had no idea what to say to the people or why she felt the need to bring this stranger along with her.

"I just need to grab the small gift I brought for them." She went back to the case and pulled out a small wrapped box. It was an expensive decoration. One her great aunt collected over her long life. Something her family would appreciate continuing after her passing. "And my cloak..." She looked around the room, moving things around in an attempt to find it. It was not there. "Weird. I was wearing it last night when I got out of the carriage and I came straight up to my room to take it off...or did I go to the tavern?" She questioned herself out loud.

Of course the cloak had been left at the table that night with a large sum of coins in the pocket for whoever it's new owner was.

Quacey
 
There seemed to be nothing she needed from him other than to make himself decent for the funeral to come. So Quacey went about getting his clothes back on. He had nothing finer than what he had worn that night before back in his room anyways so it would have to do.

Her thoughts were out loud as she continued to fret and prepare. The openness he had managed to get out of her with the drinking game seemed to still be there. Good. It would not end well if he had to get her drunk every time he wanted to get some honesty from her.... Although if it ended up sharing a room perhaps it would not be the worst turn of events....

"I can promise to keep my words few but I will be honest with them. We met recently and I agreed to be your escort to the funeral in case you needed aid. Mourners are often no more coordinated than drunks during such times."

Then came the mention of her cloak. He glanced around the room now only lacking his boots. Nowhere. When was the last time he had seen it? He tried to think back through the haze that was his head.... The tavern. She took it off when she sat down. Did she not pick it up to take with her back to the room then?

"I believe it was left in the tavern. We should inquire on our way out. Is it required and we would need a replacement if something happened to it?"

Ophelia Eärtári
 
"Yes fine, be honest or whatever." She agreed, more concerned for the whereabouts of her cloak than what she was agreeing to. "Just please do not tell my extended family whatever happened last night. Promise me." She waited for the promise, a stern look on her face. "If I'm not entirely sure what we did, they don't need to know. No one needs to know."

She was more concerned about how she would look, showing up with a commoner from the Summer court...or was it the Spring court? Again, she had no idea. She barely knew his name. The things she wouldn't be able to live down after they found out her wealthy husband died and she was now sleeping with poor people. Ugh. Gross. Scandalous. She would definitely not be able to show her face around her parents who still insisted after a thousand years that the next guy they found was the right one for her and would give them the cutest grandchildren.

"Most of my coin was in that cloak." She sighed, irritated with her own stupidity. "And its cold. That's the whole reason I wore the damn thing. None of my dresses are made for the cold." She pointed to her gown which featured thin straps to keep it up. Definitely not an appropriate dress for the winter. "It would be nice to have something warm, but the funeral is only like twenty or thirty minutes walk from here. I'll be fine. You ready?"

Quacey
 
  • Sip
Reactions: Quacey
"I do not kiss and tell Ophelia. Even if hadn't asked I still wouldn't have told them. We met and I agreed to escort you. That is all they will know."

She was in more of a panic than he had thought she would be in. Was her family so frightening or was she just this tired of dealing with them? Her circumstances seemed complicated, which likely scared off most potential suitors. Perhaps why she had gone for so long without male companionship.

The mention of her losing her money and the cold caught his attention. Chances were this outcome would have happened regardless of if he had engaged her or not yesterday. But he felt responsible for it as his presence no doubt distracted her and led to her losing both needed items.

Quacey would always take responsibility for his actions.

"I will cover your costs and you may use my cloak. I am accustomed to the cold."

He held out his arm for her to take. It was almost as if he knew the proper ways to do such noble activities.

"If you wish we can share a room to cut costs as well." He smirked a bit. "Another night with you is worth potential death."

Ophelia Eärtári
 
  • Devil
Reactions: Ophelia
"Please," She grabbed his hand. "Please promise me you will shut up around them. They mean well, but they are overbearing and nosy. It's not worth the trouble they'll cause for me when I go back home."

She waited patiently for him on the edge of the bed when he began speaking. "I can't ask that of you." She said more out of pride than anything.

It was embarrassing to ask for help from a stranger of her own status. Mortifying to ask it of a commoner.

Nevertheless, she stood and held his arm. "Did I teach you how to escort a lady last night?" She seemed to be in better spirits as they left the room. "If another night with me, you mean sleeping on the floor...I will accept that. I don't think my body could survive another night like that." Of course, she was referring to the amount of drinks she had, but left it open to interpretation.

Quacey
 
"I will pay. Consider it a gift of appreciation for your lovely company." Quacey smiled to her and added before she had time to comment, "I am referring to now. Not last night. Last night would require something far more personal and valuable than simple coin to express my joy."

A bit flowery but true. She was no whore so coin would be insulting. It was not unusually for lovers to gift each other after all. They were not lovers but they weren't exactly strangers anymore either. He wished to stay on good terms with her as well.

"I was taught how to be a proper escort as a youth. The only thing you taught me last night was how loudly you could scream in pleasure."

His comment was made in jest but memories began to filter back in of such a thing happening. How long would this go on for? These bits and pieces of the night returning until all of them were returned.

"Do not worry Ophelia. The bed will fit the both of us and I will be sure to keep you night and warm. Just like last night."

A smile once more was upon his lips. He was enjoying the bits of teasing here and there. She could use it. She was far too tense going to this funeral with her family and not from grief at the passing of her aunt. The less tense she was the better she could hopefully handle it all.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
  • Ctuhlu senpai
Reactions: Ophelia
Ophelia’s face was tainted by a pink blush. “What did I do last night that has brought you so much joy?” She raised an eyebrow as they left the inn. A cold breeze hit them as the door opened which was welcomed by her hot skin.

Curiosity was peaked by his mention of his youth. Was it common for the spring commoners to learn such things? She did not know. His other comment, however was not exactly the most well received. The pink skin went red as she turned to face him. “Shut. The fuck. Up.“ She slapped him across the face. “I do not recall what happened last night. Perhaps you only imagined sleeping with me. For your sake, I hope I’m right.“ She hissed.

They continued walking and he continued talking as Ophelia slowly morphed back into her oddly statuelike self. Rigid and nervous looking. His jokes only made her more nervous. She was being honest. She could not remember their activities and it was worrying her. Just because they woke up naked didn’t mean they had sex, right?

The heavy wooden door opened in the cathedral and a few mourners immediately swarmed Ophelia and Quacey. “Ophelia darling!“ An older gentleman hugged the frozen fae, before extending a hand to Quacey. “You must be Sylris. It is wonderful to finally meet the man good enough for our little Ophelia.“

Ophelia had no response beyond accepting the hug, her eyes locked on the casket ahead of them. Counting down the minutes in her head until it would be appropriate to leave.

Quacey
 
  • Sip
Reactions: Quacey
The smaller fae woman was met with a mischievous smirk when she told him to shut up. Her lack of memory was concerning, but surely her memory would return soon. He was well aware he had not imagined they had slept together as he did not sleep naked normally. That did not mean he was fully clothed either, but something was more than nothing.

"I do not remember everything fully myself yet. It will all return to you Ophelia. Just give it some time."

He got his cloak for her before they left along with water for the both of them. In their condition they needed it badly. Especially her after ruining that plant's pot. If she continued to have trouble remembering he would aid her with his magic. He knew one that could return such a lost memory. Assuming it was actually in her memory. It was rare but being too far into the drink could prevent the memories from forming in the first place and prevent his magic from working.

Once they came to the Cathedral, Quacey became far more composed and less teasing. He noted how she had changed back to before as well. The moment they entered they both came under greeting by her relatives. Certainly it was about to get awkward but it was best she not hide the truth of her situation from them. She gained nothing from hiding it other than more grief and misery.

He would smile to the older gentleman has he kept himself close to Ophelia in case she needed him. He took the other fae's hand and squeezed. Not with all his strength but enough it would be clear he was a warrior.

"I must apologize but I am not this Sylris you were expecting. I am unsure who he is either. Such questions would need to be directed to Lady Ophelia."

He knew she would hate that, but best to stick the heated rod over the wound while it was hot. It would burn but stop the bleeding.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Quacey of Twinhome. Poet-Knight of the Spring Court."

A slight bow was offered. Hopefully this would ease some of her worries and take some of the attention away from her directly. He had a feeling should was not enjoying what attention she was getting.

Ophelia Eärtári
 
  • Wonder
Reactions: Ophelia
She huffed. She gave it time. A whole, what...twenty minutes before she rushed the two of them out? How much more time did her brain need to remember less than twelve hours of her life? How frustrating. "I just don't remember any of it." She mumbled, defeated. The water didn't help bring any clarity either as she had hoped. She would just have to remain in the dark on what she did in the dark.

"Oh, not Sylris?" She older man had a look of confusion on his face, eyes glancing between the two fae in front of him. "I suppose it was nice of him to send you with a bodyguard then, Ophelia."

Ophelia squinted at Quacey, angry with his redirection and upset that she would now be faced with revealing to her family something she wished to keep private. His next comment, the introduction, she was not prepared for. Lord? Lord Quacey? "What?" She mouthed, looking up at him. How was he lying to her family? And more importantly, why?

"No, not Sylris." Her voice had gone from confident and cocky to shaky as she stared at the floor. "I-um...Sylris passed away." The younger woman accompanying the man gasped. "The night of our wedding...he got sick...died before the sun rose."

For a moment, they expressed a sympathy in Ophelia's direction. Of course, they were her family in the end. Above all else they were obsessed with one's image and status in society. A lord was in their presence. That was much more interesting than their niece's husbands untimely death. Ophelia took this as her time to make a small offering of flowers and the gift at the open casket. She was regretting everything since she stepped foot out of the carriage. Everything was mixing together, making her feel unwell again. She thought she could hold it together. Thirty three more minutes. She counted, looking at her great aunt's body. Big mistake. She dropped the flowers and small box on the table and briskly walked back past Quacey, hands over her mouth and a rather green tint to her snowy skin.

"A lord you say?" The man bowed back to Quacey. "And what is a Lord from the Spring Court doing here with a Lady of the Autumn court?" He raised his brow as the sick Ophelia ran past, naturally assuming they were somehow in some relationship based on their arrival and Ophelia's departure. "Well I suppose if anyone were to be with our Ophelia, a lord would be best. At least you have the money for the future. Where does the name Twinhome come from, if I may? Do twins run in your family?"

Quacey
 
  • Sip
Reactions: Quacey
Ophelia's relatives certainly were a hard lot to deal with. The moment he mentioned his title he became a lightning rod for all of their attention. Certainly it was what he wished for, but they began to prove poor company quickly. Especially when they ignored how Ophelia looked when she past by. All they seemed to care about was the idea of who her next husband might be. Tasteless.

"I am simply her escort to the funeral so she may pay her respects without worry."

He held up his hand to stop further questions or comments.

"Now excuse me. I must see to my duties as her escort."

And with that he walked away from them. He didn't care if they found the act disrespectful as he had already informed them of why he was leaving. If they wished to look at the disrespect it would be their behavior towards Ophelia.

Quacey did not have to look for her. That sensation coming off of her was a beacon he could easily follow. So he approached her as quietly as he could to not spook her.

In a soft tone of genuine care he asked, "Ophelia, how are you feeling?"

Ophelia Eärtári
 
Her great uncle eyed Quacey suspiciously. "Why would a lord of the Spring Court be here to escort Ophelia to a funeral? That doesn't make sense..." They muttered amongst themselves, watching the pair exit. Surely her parents would be hearing about her new 'lover' before she made it back to the inn for the night. Would they be angry she met and will likely kill a Lord or will they be happy that she, for some reason, has a lord by her side? She didn't know. Perhaps it wasn't worth returning home to find out.

She was breathing heavily, leaning against the stone building, eyes shut. Still, his approach didn't scare her. "How do you think?" She spit in the bushes where she had just thrown up.

She was in a bad mood. Annoyed, irritated, hungover, and sick. "Why are you still here?" She snapped at him, flames from the torch above her growing a little too bright to seem natural. "I mean really, were you waiting for me or something before I got here?" He was getting too close for comfort. "You got what you wanted didn't you 'Lord Quacey'? I don't know if you heard the rumors about me in your Spring Court and wish to die or this is some cruel bet you were put up to. Congratulations. You fucked me, you're going to die. Have fun." The flames continued to grow behind her, catching on some of the vines that grew on the building.

"Everyone I've ever been with has died. Every single person. You are not special. You will not be saved, so I suggest you go back to where you came from and tell your family and friends you love them."

Quacey
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom