Winter Court - Northwestish of the Spine
Underhill - The Scarlet Hall
Though it had been some two thousand years or longer since he'd stepped foot in the Scarlet Hall, Asemir felt its regal walls filter into his memory as if he had never left. The same cool, crisp air he recalled of nights spent at the behest of the Court and its Queen greeted his lungs like an old, weary friend. And through the steps his boots carried him, a route they could have walked in his sleep, he drifted between the present and the past as though walking through mirrors.
Alabaster statues and their silent regard shone under streams of silvren moonlight. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he recalled a quiet conversation here, a gesture of friendship there, a stroll with close friends or a shared story among battlefield allies. So much of his life span across the polished floor of these halls, the weight of unbidden memories and distance of time sank heavily upon his shoulders.
He was not expected by the Queen nor anyone of note. No, each year a fair Fae by the name of Aster delivered the Futures Tome to Winter. Such were his ties to Winter and Summer that Asemir could not, would not walk their halls willingly again. Before it had been of little consequence; Dusk had plenty of Council Members to spare that could make the journey instead. Yet this year ...
...this year was different.
~~~
"You know what awaits you there in the Scarlet Hall," Eske's voice carried so resolutely in the Grove despite how gentle she spoke. Sullen, weighted with the deep wisdom that came only with the visions and knowledge contained within her being.
"As do you," he'd answered her, "and you could tell me."
"You neither wish to hear it nor are you strong enough."
"I have lived on this world for a countless millennia, carved my life across the immortal realms and left a scar so deep they'll not forget me for another countless millennia to come," the cut of his voice and the sharp churn of winds blustering through the Grove trees were a terribly naked tell of his emotions. He could school his face, but the ones that truly knew him could always tell, "who are you to tell me if I am strong enough?"
"Your heart is frail from its ages of neglect and abandonment. You have given it no cause to stay strong, nor allowed another to give it strength."
He did not deny this, there was nothing left to say on that matter. The Mirlorne Sisters had come to be as family to him, and in them both he had confided his many regrets and misgivings over the long years. Secrets. The Dusk Court was filled with everyone's secrets whether they meant it or not. "So what am I to do, forgo a sign of fate?"
"The Futures are not Fated, you above all know this."
"No, but they are not folly either. I will take them to the Winter Court this year. Will you stop me?"
Eske gazed upon him with quiet, tethered concern for several moments before bowing her head and turning away in relent. He frowned into the dismay he felt from her and breathed it in without remorse. For too long had he let this wound fester, he could not do it any longer. Not when the Futures foretold of healing.
~~~
"Lord Kor Aren, Triumvir of the Duskirae, High Guardian of the Hidden Groves, I have arrived to deliver the Winter Court's Futures."
Underhill - The Scarlet Hall
Though it had been some two thousand years or longer since he'd stepped foot in the Scarlet Hall, Asemir felt its regal walls filter into his memory as if he had never left. The same cool, crisp air he recalled of nights spent at the behest of the Court and its Queen greeted his lungs like an old, weary friend. And through the steps his boots carried him, a route they could have walked in his sleep, he drifted between the present and the past as though walking through mirrors.
Alabaster statues and their silent regard shone under streams of silvren moonlight. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he recalled a quiet conversation here, a gesture of friendship there, a stroll with close friends or a shared story among battlefield allies. So much of his life span across the polished floor of these halls, the weight of unbidden memories and distance of time sank heavily upon his shoulders.
He was not expected by the Queen nor anyone of note. No, each year a fair Fae by the name of Aster delivered the Futures Tome to Winter. Such were his ties to Winter and Summer that Asemir could not, would not walk their halls willingly again. Before it had been of little consequence; Dusk had plenty of Council Members to spare that could make the journey instead. Yet this year ...
...this year was different.
~~~
"You know what awaits you there in the Scarlet Hall," Eske's voice carried so resolutely in the Grove despite how gentle she spoke. Sullen, weighted with the deep wisdom that came only with the visions and knowledge contained within her being.
"As do you," he'd answered her, "and you could tell me."
"You neither wish to hear it nor are you strong enough."
"I have lived on this world for a countless millennia, carved my life across the immortal realms and left a scar so deep they'll not forget me for another countless millennia to come," the cut of his voice and the sharp churn of winds blustering through the Grove trees were a terribly naked tell of his emotions. He could school his face, but the ones that truly knew him could always tell, "who are you to tell me if I am strong enough?"
"Your heart is frail from its ages of neglect and abandonment. You have given it no cause to stay strong, nor allowed another to give it strength."
He did not deny this, there was nothing left to say on that matter. The Mirlorne Sisters had come to be as family to him, and in them both he had confided his many regrets and misgivings over the long years. Secrets. The Dusk Court was filled with everyone's secrets whether they meant it or not. "So what am I to do, forgo a sign of fate?"
"The Futures are not Fated, you above all know this."
"No, but they are not folly either. I will take them to the Winter Court this year. Will you stop me?"
Eske gazed upon him with quiet, tethered concern for several moments before bowing her head and turning away in relent. He frowned into the dismay he felt from her and breathed it in without remorse. For too long had he let this wound fester, he could not do it any longer. Not when the Futures foretold of healing.
~~~
"Lord Kor Aren, Triumvir of the Duskirae, High Guardian of the Hidden Groves, I have arrived to deliver the Winter Court's Futures."
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