Fae Courts The Delights of the Wild Hunt

[Vaer Nhimei]

Perhaps she wasn't the only one who had picked up greater insight from their familiarity. He couldn't help stealing a glance in the direction of her gaze, unable to resist knowing who could have earned such bright, intense eyes as those. Vaer wasn't certain how he felt knowing it was in the King's direction.

She moved on, however, and if he wanted her to pretend he wasn't vulnerable, he could pretend he didn't see anything. The drink burned on its way down like swallowing a mouthful of lies -- but in a good way, which made it rather appealing. He watched with growing interest as she refilled it with a gesture.

Which made him question if this was the same fare everyone else consumed, or if this was something of her own. Both possibilities were equally worrisome.

Vaer took a smaller drink from the refilled glass in the spirit of the holiday. He was still caught a little off guard by her touch at his hip, nearly choking on his liquor. The shuck recovered quickly. His smile was charming as he fetched her fingers from his waistline, drew them up to his lips, and kissed them. All the while his eyes were fixed to hers.

“A dance,” he replied, the deep timbre of his voice mingling with the drums. Far more seductive than he intended to be in thwarting her advances. He resolved to dial it back.

Vaer turned them away from the refreshments and led her by the hand toward the circle of stones. He finished his drink along the way and deposited his goblet on a passing tray. Both hands now freed and his moral quandaries set aside, he wrapped an arm around her bare painted waist and leapt into the swirl of dancers with her. His steps matched the song, but there was little reason amid the indulgent tangle of bodies. Chaos, just as she liked it. And in the middle of it, he invariably led her into the steps of a formal dance. Order, just like he liked it.

“What would interest my lady and friend this evening?” he asked her, still smiling. “A secret for a secret? Or shall we gossip? It seems there is plenty to observe this evening.”

An understatement on those gathered to celebrate the Wild Hunt. Vaer parted eyes with her long enough to pass a pointed glance between the Erlking and his son, who had (miraculously) separated himself from his companion and was speaking to his puca. Something was afoot. What was anyone’s guess, but there was mischief abound and Lorcán always seemed to attract drama in his father's presence.

 

[Lorcán]

'She seems to be having fun.'

Lorcan couldn't recall a time that he'd ever wanted to throttle Raph, but right now? Right now he did. His jaw tightened, his fingers curled into fists and shadows crawled dangerously over his skin. It was fear and hurt as much as it was anger. That he'd purposefully gone against his word, that he didn't seem to have taken into account the risk he'd taken, the danger he'd put Maeve in and the position in which Lorcan was now placed in.

"Having fun..." the Prince growled through gritted teeth.

His eyes closed for a moment as he tried to calm the simmering rage before it boiled into something catastrophic. "Do I need to remind you precisely why she can't be here? Of why I need to protect her?..." he spoke as quietly as he could to keep their discussion between them.

"If anything happens to..." he stopped himself, unable to utter the possibility aloud. He turned in time to catch sight of Isiell's kiss and he snarled.

"I won't forget this, brother." he muttered and swept himself away, shoving aside any who danced in his path between himself and Maeve.

"Isiell.." Lorcan rumbled quietly, his gaze wandering over Maeve before it settled on the face of the dawn fury with a roguish smirk. "You look ravishing as always.." he complimented, his shoulders rolling. "Might I cut in? I don't believe I know this one." his brow quirked toward Maeve.

 

[Favashi]

The coy smile she gave him as he lowered her fingers after pressing a kiss to her knuckles belonged on a tiger. Fierce, dangerous, and with the look of someone who had just scented an interesting prey. Of course this was the look Favashi always seemed to wear to most, but right now there was an... edge to it. Something different. Something new. Perhaps it was just the Chaos her court fed off that swirled through the air or the aftershocks of the hunt that had her blood pulsing quicker this night.

As they thronged their way through the gatherings of friends and couples, strangers and old friends, Favashi took her eyes from the shucks back in front of her to take a cursory glance at those gathered. There were many she knew; those whom she had fought against and beside in wars long gone. If they caught her eye they raised a glass in a soldiers salute with more grimaces than smiles. There were people from her own court too. Her brows raised quizzically as she caught sight of Isiell and a redhead she didn't recognise, though she most certainly recognised the look in her fellow Fury's eyes. Vaer spun her into a formal dance before she could muse on the matter further and her eyes dragged up his body in a slow caress back to his eyes.

That smile again, though this time it dimpled one cheek.

"Your Prince seems to take after his mother more than his father when it comes to courting chaos," Favashi gave an amused laugh and then a considering pout descended upon her. "My Lady would so like if her son moved to the Dawn Court. Perhaps if he finds a desire to..." her fingers grazed across the soft spot beneath his jaw. "Have his own Court, he might take on Andronicus."

 

[Asemir]

He'd had no intentions of attending the festivities this evening, but he'd also not expected the face of an old acquaintance to appear again. How long since he'd last laid eyes on fair Dianthe? Far longer than many others - as a matter of fact, he'd believed her dead. Only now did the idea strike him as preposterous.

She'd arrived at the limits of his Grove not so long ago, seeking to reconnect with her kind and a new place to call home. He could think of no better place for the gentle duanann than Dusk, and so measures had been taken to introduce her to the idea. She was not yet a Duskirae, nor had she taken the Proving but there was no sense in rushing what could naturally take its time. An outing, instead, seemed a reasonable next step, and a chance to catch up with someone he'd once been quite close to in his youth.

The festival of the Wild Hunt would give her an opportunity to see Dusk's closer Court relations. Plus she'd never met the Erlking before and Asemir had plenty of clout to speak of in Autumn.

Once more the stones glowed, permitting the entrance of the retired Erlking's Justice and his companion for the evening - an unknown face to many. Asemir chose modesty for the evening in comparison to the many others in attendance. Silken pants and an open robe the colors of Autumn over his bare chest. He needed no paint for his skin - his countenance was already vastly decorated by his countless scars and tattoos.

His stormy gaze cast about the faces in the immediate vicinity before falling to the lady at his arm, "You must not travel by Ley very often anymore. We can rest, get food and drink if you need it?"

Dianthe Cyrene

 

[Dianthe Cyrene]

It had been a long time, too long. Dianthe had spent thousands of years away from her kin. The creatures of the forest her only company. She had enjoyed the quiet, had enjoyed stepping away from the Summer Court. It was time for her to reconnect, get back to where she belonged. Asemir had been her link, and she had sought him out with a fervor.

Dianthe followed his lead, traveling through the ley lines. She felt her stomach roll nervously, though she tried not to show it in her silver eyes. They site that greeted her when she arrived, nearly took her breath away. The frivolity the fae here were exuding, it had been so long.

She stayed close to Asemir, her heart pounding with anxiety. Her dark hair had flowers wound in the locks, her body wrapped with delicate vines. Bits of fair skin and overlapping flowered vines, she almost felt overdressed compared to the naked bodies swirling around in wild dance.

She looked to Asemir as he spoke and she swallowed nervously as she nodded. She was so grateful to him, her dear friend. She gave him a soft smile, and spoke in her soft lilting voice. "I think a drink would help." It would at least relax the tension in her stomach. "Thank you Asemir." She was thanking him for more than a drink, she was thanking him for everything he had done for her.

Asemir

 

[Asemir]

He couldn't help the faint smirk that found its way to his expression, twisting into the scars that knotted the left side of his face. Dia was wound and more anxious than a Hound waiting for his next target order.

"I think so, too-" he remarked and placed a hand at the small of her back to lead her into the festival proper. Midir was about, he needn't see the King in person to know it. The Erlking's presence was forever heralded by a sense of impending excitement or doom, depending on who you asked. "I can't introduce you to the Erlking without at least one drink in you first."

There was a veritable bounty of food and drink to choose from, many more than he believed Dianthe to have had as options for the last several thousand years of her life. "Mead might be a good place to start," he suggested gently, pouring her a healthy amount into a glass chalice and offering it to her, "easy on the belly... Lady Eske often prescribes it for post-Ley travel. Speak of the leafy devil," Asemir pointed just over Dia's shoulder, into a thicket where he spied the High Omnia lounging with the Wyldfae and the Chamberlain of Spring Nairth San'Seya , "she's just there. The green one. Don't get too close to that purple haze or you won't remember a thing from this evening."

Dianthe Cyrene

 

[Isiell]

Isiell giggled at the quiet laugh Maeve let out at the teasing kiss, her own fingers winding gently into that beautiful red hair at the nape of her neck. When Maeve said she'd like to see the Dawn Court, Isiell pressed another kiss to her cheek, then wrapped her arm around Maeve's waist and tugged her against her body, laughing and twirling. Then the music shifted, and Maeve asked about the drink, she nodded, fingers moving from Maeve's neck to her wrist to lead her out of the crowd.

What she didn't expect was for Lorcán to push his way through the crowd and interrupt them.

"Isiell.." Lorcan rumbled quietly, his gaze wandering over Maeve before it settled on the face of the dawn fury with a roguish smirk. "You look ravishing as always.." he complimented, his shoulders rolling. "Might I cut in? I don't believe I know this one." his brow quirked toward Maeve.

If Isiell had ever heard a lie, that was one. But calling Lorcan on it would end all the fun. His gaze as it wandered over Maeve was utterly familiar. As if someone who knew her intimately. Isiell's thumb brushed softly against the pulse of Maeve's wrist, and she tugged her a little closer once more.

"No." Isiell smirked, her eyes growing dark as she tasted the chaos throbbing and swirling around Lorcan, judging what response would most ire him. "You may not. I saw her first. She's mine."

She grinned more widely then, tugging Maeve's hand up to kiss her palm. "But you did promise me a redo of our last encounter. She would look lovely between the two of us."

Isiell gently nudged Maeve toward the refreshment tables, as she winked at Lorcan. He should know better than to play with a Fury if he wasn't on that level.

 

[Maeve]

Maeve had been having fun. Isiell was the embodiment of the type of fae she had grown up with; playful, chaotic, always looking for something more from the toy before her. It might have turned other humans cold but now she wasn't mortal any longer and the deal with Lorcan her parents made over, the last few dregs of fear had left her. In an odd way she had begun to enjoy the different games each fae seemed to like to play and Isiell's was the wildest yet. She intended to keep her word and visit the Dawn Court one day and was eager to learn more about this other woman when Lorcan brought an abrupt pause to the whole affair.

They had argued before, of course. Or rather, they had had 'loud conversations' as Ravenna had once described them but never before had Maeve felt this much rage. It burned in those emerald eyes like a flame and her pulse throbbed at a wild tempo as she tried to keep her face calm and neutral, though her free hand clenched at her side into a fist. It had been his choice to come without her.

It was a wonder she didn't slap him in front of the whole gathering.

Isiell's answer cut across the red mist and she winced. Mae hadn't been oblivious to the tide of emotions Lorcan had let her feel down the bond since he had realised she was here. The mingles of fear, jealousy and anger were only going to get worse with Isiell's ongoing game but a part of her wanted him to wallow in it all after he had left her in that room. Alone. Yet there was still a part of her that wanted nothing more than to step into his arms. Mae strangled the latter bit as best she could, even when Isiell bought up once more she had once laid with her mate.

She gave the smallest shake of her head in his direction before starting on towards the refreshment table. It was growing notably less busy as fae crowded out of the way.

 

[Midir]

"Your highness..."

Midir's fingers idly traced along the curve of the sidhe's hip who was sitting across his lap but her voice drew him from what his lips were occupied with. He brushed a thumb over the bruising mark against her neck as he followed her nod towards the dancefloor.

"My son makes a fool of himself at every gathering, Andromache. It's hardly worth interrupting--"

"It's different," the sidhe said firmly and the Erlking sighed reluctantly, straightening when she slid from his lap. It had been a tiring, long Hunt and whilst he enjoyed stringing his son up at most opportunities, tonight was not one of them. From all his records Lorcan had actually been thriving on his little island. What had been a swampish land was now prospering and attracting trade. Midir had actually felt... pride. It shouldn't have surprised him stepping off that island would ruin whatever warmth had started to be born for his son. Nobly he bent and kissed the backs of her knuckles then made a casual meander over to the refreshment table the Fury and her newest pet seemed to be heading to under the guise of getting his own guest a drink...

 

[Dianthe Cyrene]

Dianthe was still a bit overwhelmed by the color, and palpable excitement that filled the space. She was slowly letting the knot in her stomach unbleached, and she smiled as Asemir placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her.

They made it uninterrupted to the refreshment table, the options too many to count. Fae always went overboard when it came to festivities, and thay was one thing she had missed. Options. At his mention of the Erlking, she couldn't help but scan the crowd, she wondered which one he was. "He's that imposing, is he?" She laughed softly and took the offered chalice.

She sipped it slowly, savoring the rich taste. She looked at Asemir, her eyes practically shining. "It's definitely been a long time since I've had mead." He pointed over her shoulder, pointing out exactly who Eske and Nairth were, and she followed his gesture. They were both beautiful fae, and she felt her eyes lingering a bit too long on the pair. "I'll be careful not to get too close, I would like to remember why I'm here after all." She looked up at Asemir with a teasing smile, and fixed the collar of his robe before taking another intoxicating sip of her mead.

Dianthe's gaze wandered, and she felt herself stepping closer to Asemir as they were joined by other fae at the table. It seemed they had collected quite a group, and she was reluctant to be the first one to speak.

Asemir Maeve Isiell Midir

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

Her smile made him smile. The lingering warmth of whatever had been in her drink was helping, too, obviously. The black shuck could already feel his bones loosening. Weaving between the irregular patterns of those around them, Vaer kept her close. His attention was entirely hers, but he effortlessly spun her out of the way before she could be jostled by other dancers.

“More than he would like to admit,” Vaer laughed. “And more than his father would like, I fear.” He doubted either King or Prince was pleased with the constant swirl of drama between them. Vaer only had a vague understanding of his King, and had had little interaction with Lorcan. He found he got on well enough with both of them, but his devotion to one tampered with his trustworthiness to the other. Nevertheless, the truth remained that Midir had courted chaos and it had beget more headaches for him.

Talking about Lorcan like he might overthrow Andronicus, however, drew a very honest laugh from the shuck’s throat. His white smile flashed and he looked away in his attempts to correct his amusement.

“Not likely,” he finally managed to say with as even of a tone as he was going to get. “That would require courting chaos forever, and I doubt our Prince has the gall for that much madness. Further, it would mean making a commitment to something beyond who he’s taking home this evening.”

The pot calling the kettle black, sure, but it still amused Vaer. He let his gaze wander back to Lorcan -- only to find the puca alone and him gone. A quick search turned him up near Isiell (of all people) and a choice woman with hair like flames. The moment looked charged even through the revelry. Vaer did not envy the man and whatever havoc was being wrought upon him to make him look so miserable. His smile faltered and his gaze dropped to give Favashi a measuring look.

“No, I will not be making any bets on what I just said.”

 

[Favashi]

The Fury of War threw back her head and laughed.

It was such a sudden, loud and delighted noise that several fae nearby missed a step as their heads whipped round to catch the joke, or nervous servers trying to avoid the growing tension flinched as if slapped. Tears begun to pool delicately in the corners of her eyes much like a famed actress would train to do, and they vanished as quickly as her laughter stopped. She fixed Vaer with her own considering, measured look and then shook her head. How was it a shuck of Order could make her laugh more in one night than others could in a century? Was she amused at him or was it that he was actually capable of entertaining her in himself? It was a question she hadn't been able to answer.

"Spoil sport," she sighed and ran her hands slowly from his shoulders down to his chest, her eyes following their delicate meander of his body. Her thumb drew over particular bits of ink she enjoyed and lingered if her touch elicited a reaction. Testing, probing, searching.

"How about another kind of bet?" her eyes drifted back up to his with a dangerous glint and a sensuous smile. "I bet... your Prince will be so occupied dealing with my Fury sister, you could steal that little redhead right out from under them both."

 

[Asemir]

"It's definitely been a long time since I've had mead."

"There's season for everything," Asemir replied, noting the approach of a few Furies and the King through the crowds. They were getting closer and Asemir hedged his bets on prioritizing Midir over Fury drama. Pick your chaos ... or your battles. Whichever term applies. In this moment, with the rising frenetic energy on the air, he wasn't confident which one it was ... or would turn into.

Dia's lingering proximity to his front drew his attention and he raised a brow as he glanced down at her, watching her take another sip of her mead. A hand snuck in to the bottom of her glass and helped her tip it up for more appropriate and efficient indulgence, "Quickly now. The King approaches."

Asemir shortly turned to look back to the refreshment table, thought to take up a glass of pre-poured wine, but his hand bypassed it for the entire bottle. He managed a healthy swig before directing Dia to the incoming form of his brother.

"Erlking," he called and offered Midir his usual bow in greeting, "I'd like to introduce you to an old friend. Join us for a drink?"

Midir Dianthe Cyrene

 

[Lorcán]

No...

NO?!

Lorcán stared darkly at Isiell, every possible violent response to her answer spinning through his mind like spokes on a wheel. She knew. She knew this was causing him fret and panic which was precisely why she was enjoying herself toying with him right now. He was a fucking idiot for approaching her at all, but his instinct not only to murder anyone who so much as looked at Maeve let alone kissed her, but the need to get her out of his father's vicinity was overwhelming.

His jaw clenched as he simmered, holding down the furious outburst that he knew would only draw much more unwanted attention, his gaze shifting to Maeve in a silent plea that she understand. His father would find any weakness in Lorcan that he could, not to mention his enemies, of which there were many.

"Isiell..." Lorcan growled quietly through gritted teeth as the fury winked at him and tugged Maeve toward the drinks. The sound was a warning. Maeve was not a pawn in any game, especially not one used to get a rise out of him.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he turned, watching Maeve and taking note of who else was watching her. His heart struck up a staccato beat in his chest as he spotted his father's silvery hair as the King moved toward the table and suddenly, Lorcán was moving toward him.

'I'd like to introduce you to an old friend. Join us for a drink?

Lorcan stopped only a few feet away. He wasn't sure entirely what he'd been about to do, but he was fairly certain that it was something ridiculously stupid. His gaze shifted between his uncle and father, hoping the Erlking would take him up on his offer..

 

[Midir]

There were certain times in life where you could feel the crossroads beneath your feet. A moment that held such promise, such potential, that the very threads of fate tugged at you like two children might tug on each arm of a doll.

Take the left path.

Take the right path.

He almost glanced over to where he had seen Eske lounging lucid amongst the mushrooms earlier to ask if she felt it too. Instead his eyes slid to where his brother called and the fae beside him whom he did not recognise. One path led to him and a future with numerous possibilities. But instead of hastening there his eyes slid over to his son and then past him to Isiell and the red-haired fae who looked far too young by immortal standards to be out at a place like this alone. The other thread tugged him there and the possibilities it contained. But there was one certainty down that path, Midir knew gazing back into his sons frantic, wild eyes.

Down that path he would fully destroy whatever relationship he did have with his only son.

Casually, the Erlking inclined his head politely in Lorcan's direction and then turned to greet his brother and his guest with a smooth smile.

"You are always a welcome sight, Aesmir," was that genuine warmth in ice-chipped eyes? It was certainly the pretence of it at the very least as they swept to the beautiful fae that clung to his side. He offered a formal, gracious bow and took her free hand to press a kiss against her fingers.

"I do not believe I've had the pleasure...?"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

He smiled in spite of himself, knowing full well the fun he was ruining. And all the more fun he was more than likely going to inspire at his own expense. It wouldn’t be fun at all if he made it too easy for her. Such was her boredom with others where he remained a constant thread of interest.

Goading chaos never ended well for him, often resulting in being on the losing side of bets that left his pockets (and his heart) feeling lighter. He liked Favashsi’s silly games. He didn’t mind being wrong when she was right. Except normally she wasn’t as overt in her attempts to quite literally get into his pants. Everyone might have seen what he was carrying, but Vaer was well known for being a recluse, workaholic, and disinterested bachelor. He was the minority among fae when it came to promiscuity. A more confident faerie would have made no quarrels about accepting her petitions -- current, past, and future.

But he did, and with hardly any more grace than a teen. His eyes followed her fingers as they traced ever downward and Vaer, High Lord of the Third Order and Penance of the Wild Hunt, appeared to blush.

His eyes lifted to hers before sliding to where Isiell and the redhead were leaving Lorcán looking rather lost. Vaer’s attention narrowed to the woman in question. Overdressed, hair like flames, and as new as the first crocus of spring.

“If I do?” he asked Favashi , his eyes lingering on his quarry for a little too long before returning to hers. He smirked. “And if I don’t”

 

[Dianthe Cyrene]

Dianthe had been clinging rather close to Asemir, and she only realized it when he looked down and raised his eyebrow at her as if in question. She had begun to sip her mead, but a gentle coaxing of his hand tilted it up, encouraging her to drink.

His words nearly made her choke, the king was finding his way to them, and she could instantly feel the nerves hit again. She downed the rest of the chalice,and set it down hastily as she moved to stand beside Asemir, her eyes meeting those of the Erlking.

Dianthe quickly lowered them l, and gave her courtesy to the Erlking as one in her stature would. She looked up, only as he took her hand and kissed her fingers delicately. She felt a blush creep across her face, a smile reaching her lips.

"My name is Dianthe,or Dia if you would prefer Erlking. It's a pleasure to meet you." The blush still kissed her cheeks and she looked to Asemir for support. One day she wouldn't use him as a crutch, but today was not that day.

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

The wonderful effects of the pipe hadn't taken their full effect on the Duanann yet, leaving his mind in a pleasant haze between the earth and sky; not soaring, but no longer bound to the earth as he held the infamous plant temptingly before his friend. The beautiful wyldfae around him seemed to recognize the plant too, voices crooning in amusement and perhaps a bit of jealousy at the opportunity Eske had been offered. Nairth shifted his gaze about towards them for a moment. At the very least he could offer them a bit as well, if he wanted to have a truly eventful night.

As Eske slowly outstretched her hand to delicately pluck the violet from his grasp, Nairth's smile only grew. This was about as loose as Nairth allowed himself to become lately, but it was for good reason; This would be his last event as a Chamberlain. When next they all gathered there would be a good deal more sets of eyes on him. He would not have the luxury of sneaking off to a corner to enjoy himself without being disturbed like this. He wanted to relish in this, make it last tonight.

"I do hope you enjoy." He purred, settling back and reaching back into the small pocket on his sash. "As for your lovely company, I have several petals as well." He would pass out small petals of the flower to the wyldfae. It would have a similar if lesser effect. There was far less chance of things growing too out of control this way, as he had an inkling that Eske would not be affected by the plant in the way most creatures would be. That was something he'd wished to confirm, wished to see with his own golden eyes.

She dropped the purple bulb into her mouth, while Nairth settle back into the mossy patch that he's sat in, crossing his legs patiently, giving a rather exposing view to those seated around him should they be looking for it. But his muscular frame leaned forward eagerly as Eske sat up and appeared to shake with excitement. Yes, this was different. This was... "Incredible." He could see it already; sprouts forming all across her body, thin violet buds quickly growing into bloom. Soon she had what could only be described as a beautiful shawl of the Gerrin root wrapped around her neck, bright, tantalizing and beautiful.

Nairth was captivated, even Eske's thanks flew above his head as he marvelled at the beautiful creature. With one flower, she'd brought so much life. No, it was more than that, she embodied life itself. He reached out, letting his fingers glide over what she'd just brought forth, up her arm, to the side of her neck. His head tilted as he caught the scent of the violets. Tempting... "You're wonderful, Eske. Beautiful." It was a murmur, spoken softly as a whisper.

Eske

 

[Isiell]

"Don't worry," Isiell smiled coyly as Lorcán growled her name. "I won't do anything Maeve doesn't want."

Then she giggled, and continued on her way with Maeve towards the refreshments. When they stood before the massive table, laden with more food than a small country could eat in a year, Isiell reached for a filled goblet. It had a strangely colored liquid inside, an almost lavender-silver iridescent.

"Here, one of my favorites," she said taking a sip with a contented sigh as the wine sent tingling chills down her throat and through her fingertips, and then she handed it to Maeve. "Frost wine. From a rare berry that only flowers and sets fruit the morning of the first frost. They're most commonly found in the lands of the Winter Court."

She stood behind Maeve, one hand sliding around her waist as the other gently played with Maeve's gorgeous red hair. "What do you think?"

Isiell was very aware of Lorcan's continued glare, and also that Midir had caught sight of the interaction. She was curious to find out how, exactly, Maeve played into all of this, but she also just liked to have fun, and Maeve was very pretty.

With a smile, Isiell gently swept Maeve's hair to the side and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

 

[Favashi]

Favashi pretended to ponder the question as though her answers were nothing to do with the desires that had spurred on the dare in the first place. Lips pursed, head canted to the side and a gentle tap tap of her fingers against the delicate V line of his hip. Of course the whole time they still twirled in that soldiers-like march of a waltz that the Shuck opposite her loved so much. To spice it up she threw in a little twirl and flashed him a grin at any rebuking frown that might come her way.

"If you win, my darling, I will go one whole week without shedding blood. To ease your heart a little after the nights merriment," as much as her faint-hearted friend was loyal to the king from what she could tell he didn't enjoy the merciless killing he was forced to partake in, even if it kept what little order there was in the fae world. Her fingers snaked round to the small of his back to pull him closer. "But if you don't... you have to spend a week with me." Doing what she didn't need to say. The feral flame in her eyes was more than enough to no doubt spark a whole troublesome list of chaotic adventures she could find a way to drag him into.

If trouble had a name, it would be Favashi.

 

[Maeve]

Never touch their wine, nor their food...

It was surprising how her mothers warning still echoed in her mind after three years out from beneath her skirts. She twirled the goblet in her hand and watched the liquid catch the light from the stars and moons above which cast their pale and eerie light across the festivities. It looked like spun silver. The story fascinated her too as Isiell spoke and when she brought it to her lips to have a taste she couldn't help the low noise in the back of her throat of absolute delight. She had never thought that frost had had a taste but as it hit her tongue she could almost see her breath fogging on those first days of winter and see the silvery flecks of first snow...

The kiss to her neck caught her entirely by surprise and she spun in the woman's grip with a rosy blush across her cheeks.

"It's beautiful," she took another sip and watched the other woman over the rim of the goblet with a bright curiosity. If she was from Dawn how did a wine from Winter come to be her favourite? From what little she had learnt so far the Courts were not always warm with one another. Briefly, her eyes flickered back to her mate which caused her to press her lips into a thin line, before returning her attentions to the fae in front of her. Perhaps the tiniest niggle of guilt was beginning to set in.

Maybe.

"You seem to enjoy angering him, do you know him well?"

 

[Isiell]

Maeve seemed to like the wine, and Isiell was a little surprised that the other fae didn't seem to have ever heard of it before. There was something odd about her, even apart from whatever relationship she was hiding with Lorcán.

When Maeve twisted around in her arms, that delightful blush spreading across her cheeks, Isiell's eyes sparkled for a moment. While those dark twisting eddies of chaos were forming in and around Lorcan, Maeve's own chaos was... lighter. It was the type driven by curiosity, when one knew that chaos might lie around the corner after making a decision, but they decided it was worth the risk anyway.

Like Nairth.

"You seem to enjoy angering him, do you know him well?"

Isiell saw where Maeve's eyes flickered, sensed one of those swirls of chaos grow less bright, more turbulent.

"Not particularly well," she answered. "But I have an affinity for Chaos, and he is... particularly rife with it."

Isiell reached up and smoothed Maeve's hair back from her brow, then plucked the wine from her hands and took a long swallow of it herself. "You though... you're a curiousity. And curious. What else do you want to know?"

 

[Lorcán]

Lorcán seemed to stop breathing entirely as his father looked at him, seeming to read him. Midir was by no means stupid, and Lorcán didn't appear quite able to control the impulses that this new bond had afflicted him with. His heart raced in his chest and time seemed to drag on for an age before the Erlking turned his attention toward Asemir and his guest. At once, he let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly. It was then that he realised that clutched in his own shaking hand was a shadow blade.

A shuddered breath tumbled from his lips as he turned away, the blade dissipating into black smoke and his clammy hand dragging down his face. He had to leave, he was quickly spiralling out of control but he wasn't leaving Maeve here alone.

He reached gently through that bond, trying to be as calm as he possibly could despite the turmoil this situation was causing him. It was a plea, one pained and sorry. He needed her safe, and he needed her with him.

And then, there was the sight of Isiell pressing her lips to his mate's neck after making such a loose promise to him.

"Oh fuck this."

There was no holding back the shadows that slithered like smoky tendrils over his skin, nor the way the dark gold of his eyes dimmed until there was nothing but blackness. He stayed where he was, but the power that stirred in him was one that was not to be tested any more.

He reached then to Isiell's mind, though it was far less gentle. Like razor sharp talons that gripped and scraped against her very consciousness, turning it to darkness and just a taste of pain as his voice growled in her mind only.

'Last warning.'

 

[Maeve]

Maeve grimaced.

Chaos was the perfect way to describe what surrounded him as hard as he fought to have peace. Being here was helping her understand the world he was a part of as much as he hated it though and that was important. She couldn't spend however many centuries she ended up living on Endora in its perfect little bubble. Bubbles always popped eventually and what would she do then after years of compliancy? She gave a soft sigh.

"Everything," her voice sounded almost dreamy and she blinked as she realised she had said what she was thinking out loud without a thought. Maeve couldn't help laughing at herself. "This... isn't the kind of world I grew up in but now I'm here and I just--" her eyes suddenly sharpened as she sensed the change come over Lorcán. She couldn't tell what it was he was doing, or to whom, just that the shadows had deepened and become... violent. Her eyes flickered once more to her mate and followed their line back to Isiell...

Suddenly she took the goblet from the woman's hand, setting it aside and clasping her hands. She couldn't know how he would try to hurt her - or that he already was - but where shadows had crept into her mind suddenly there was sunlight.

"Stop it!" Maeve dropped the other woman's hands and marched over to where the Autumn Prince stood. More than one other fae stumbled to get out of her way. Despite being nearly a foot shorter, Mae jammed her finger against his chest and her voice was almost close to a shout. "You're angry with me, don't take it out on her!"

 

[Vaer Nhimei]

His hands followed her faithfully, going out to catch her as she came out of her spin. If Favashi had expected a glower, she would be disappointed. His smirk was amused, playful.

“One week?” he chuckled, brow raising. No other remarks, no counter to her reasoning. He said as much with nothing as an argument. Did she really kill so often that a week seemed like a long time to abstain from it? He put that thought right back where he’d found it.

She pulled him closer, her fingers meandering, as she delivered the caveat. And what a caveat it was. Vaer was so caught off guard that he didn’t notice the other dancers. Someone knocked into him, giggling drunkenly, and it bumped him even closer to Favashi. The shuck’s dark face reddened and he had the presence of mind to look about to see if his fumbling bashfulness had been picked up by anyone of interest. Thankfully, everyone seemed too preoccupied with far bigger fish than one reclusive High Lord. He cleared his throat.

“One week?” he repeated. His voice was lowered, rattling deep in his chest pressed against hers. Pressed against hers. Vaer blew out a flustered breath and said a silent prayer.

“Very well. I accept.” There was something reckless in not asking for rules or conditions. It left both of them to wield whatever weapons they had at their disposal. His eyes met hers again and he flashed her a mischievous grin that rivaled her own.

He had tricks, too.

One moment he was there, pulling her in closer, and the next he wasn’t, the body in her hands collapsing into a pillar of dark mist. Shadows coalesced on her hip where his hand had been resting, wrapped up her ribs and over her shoulder to the cadence of the flickering flames. The sensation of fingers brushed along her skin before finally tucking itself against her neck beneath her hair. The weight of his hand formed out of the darkness, cupping her jaw, and his voice was a deep whisper in her ear.

“Good luck.” His touch vanished.