Private Tales The Sun and Its Shade in Spring

[Razareal]

Elida shifted through several expressions, few of which were flattering. The Sower wondered if perhaps, in retrospect, he should not have bedded the troubled Leannan the previous day. It had helped in the healing of her wounds, but it had also hardened her resolve toward traveling a dangerous and unsightly path. More than that, it was unsightly of him as Spring's Knight to submit to pleasure, rather than report a threat of this magnitude directly to his King.

Razareal did not let his regret show on his expression, nor did he let it affect his view of Elida. His sympathy was not lost, the connection through mutual trial that they shared was not severed. With a clearer mind, however, it was obvious that her business was ultimately not with him. Elida's motives would take her to the King. To Nairth San'Seya.

What happened next would be in his hands, though Razareal doubted the Leannan would appreciate such authority.

"I've little doubt King San'Seya will wish to hear about the Market. He makes it a point to greet new arrivals to the castle regardless." The Knight confirmed to her, pleased that she at least attempted to smile as he walked around her to descend the ramp of tree branches leading back down to the soft earth beneath them. Perhaps it was that he would not be the help that she so needed...

But he hoped to help her, regardless.

"Come, then. It's not far. We will make an appeal to Nairth, and you may seek his aid in this matter." Raz turned offering his hand to help her in her descent, and to once again guide her through the trees. "Take my hand, and stay close, as before..."

Elida

 

[Elida]

A delicate hand removed itself from holding onto the piece of fabric clothing her and went into her hair. There was a look of displeasure and when she glanced at Razareal, she had raised a gentle brow of sunbeam up in question.

“I look like a mess.” She may be fae and the epitome of beauty. She could be a muse unlike any other. But in front of a King? She looked like a wretch, as if she had just been spit out by the sea and covered in dirt. It wasn’t even her being wingless, which was still a mark of shame on her, but she was dirty.

Didn’t this man see that? Couldn’t he understand that?

Or perhaps he did. Maybe it was to evoke more pity for her, to show how horrible the Market was. Maybe that was why he insisted on her not wearing anything proper. Was he smarter than she had thought? Was he more clever that he displayed?

He could be, it wasn’t like she knew him well. The hand that had failed in untangling her hair now went to his hand. There was a coy look that matched the closed lip smile as she stepped down to the ground.

“You won’t carry me this time?” She asked, “I rather enjoy being in your arms.”

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

He spared not a moment in trying to discern the thoughts of the wingless sidhe; Her mental state was that of a tree without roots-- unstable and off balance, unable to hold itself aloft under heavy durress properly. Razareal did not think less of her for it, of course. He would argue that such trauma, such damage done by mortal hands would taint the psyche of any Fae.

There was hope, however. If anyone could bring Elida's true nature out of the darkness that now completely enveloped her, it was Nairth. His unmatched love of life in all of its forms would synchronize well with her needs, and his presence had a way of calming even the most turbulent of minds.

"You are unfamiliar with our King, are you not?" Razareal asked, gripping her hand in his own as she presented it to him. This time, he was not certain if she truly enjoyed his presence, or sought affection to further regain her strength. This time, he did not allow himself to hope it was the former. "You could roll around in the dirt for an hour and present yourself to him and he would think little of it. Much of this forest has seen his direct touch, and he adores every grain of soil as though it were his own creation."

Razareal would find such endless emotion tiring, but San'Seya's passion was admirable, if not somewhat diluted by the worries the Court had been facing over the last year and a half. With any luck, the misfortunes befalling Spring would not impede them on their trip.

Once again Razareal held Elida close, albeit not carrying her in his arms as before, as they moved through the wall of forest that bent to his will. The rough bark was snug against their flesh, but it did not leave a discernable mark on either body that it hugged, and before long they emerged on the other side, back on a wide path through a teeming expanse. The songs of nature surrounded them like a choir of life, beckoning them down the road, leading them towards the zenith of the song that played in their ears, a sprawling city interwoven with the trees, built from bark and stone and leaf.

In the distance it loomed, the great city of Grovehaven. Already it had grown considerably, given how young it was. On the horizon towered the Grovehaven Castle, the epicenter of life and a focal point of ley energy.

"Beneath that castle lays a pool of water enriched by raw ley power. The King channels it through the hollow walls of Grovehaven's castle and out into the city and surrounding forest in small brooks, spreading our lifeblood through the woods."

Elida

 

[Elida]

“Roll around in dirt?” Elida scoffed. She kept to herself that this King Nairth sounded eccentric, and while King Oberon had his faults, he had a thing about decorum— at least from what it sounded like. She had never met any Fae king before. She found it to be unfortunate that the first time she would be bowing down to a King, murmuring ‘your Highness’ with reverence to be the only time she was dirty and without wings.

These thoughts were replaced by a far more worrisome thought as Razareal held her but with a sense of wanting space. Elida looked away from the sidhe, lips thinning into a straight line as she contemplated why. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but there seemed to be a gap between them that was only growing larger. A part of her wondered what she had done wrong, another part of her wondered if Razareal was finally seeing her for what she was.

It didn’t make sense why he was bringing her to King Nairth, but maybe there was some sort of obligation in fulfilling a promise. Maybe he regretted their night together. It had to be because she was dirty. It had to be because she was no longer beautiful. It had to be because she was tainted by mortal touch and torture alike.

She was glad to have Grovehaven distract her from her thoughts. The silence between them broke when Razareal spoke again but it came back as quickly as it had left. All Elida could do was nod at the Sidhe’s words. Anxiety continued to prickle underneath her skin, her thoughts still seeming to shift to why, why now, that he held her as he did and worst yet, seemed to want to let go of her.

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Elida was not the only one who did not entirely understand why Razareal felt a gap between them that hadn't been only a day prior. Yes, there was the obvious fact that they had used one another for solace and comfort in a time of considerable need, but even that was not so uncommon among the Fae, was it? Was it her mind? Clouded and twisted by hate and vengeful dreams? Maybe, but Razareal had dreamt those same dreams, struggled with that same darkness.

No, the Spring Knight knew why his body felt rigid against the Leannan in his arms. It was admitting such feelings that was his tallest hurdle. Elida had been the first woman to ever love him, even if in a purely physical sense of the word. None had laid their hands, their lips upon his body before the Sidhe he guided to meet his King.

He wished for more, wished for whatever the emotions were that he'd felt in his bed with her to be real.

But he knew, bitterly, that they weren't. Had she not merely taken him into her arms for her own health? It was not out of attraction, not out of fondness that she sought bliss with him, but necessity. That she saw him in such a way bothered Razareal more than he could have ever anticipated.

Yet even as they neared the buildings that lingered amongst the trees, teeming with Fae both High and Lesser, The Knight attempted to rebuild that connection he'd wished to feel.

"I apologize... If I seemed rude this morning." He muttered as the grass beneath their feet turned to cobble as they now walked upon a lightly traveled road leading into town, several glimmering pixies zooming over their heads towards the castle overhead; Nairth's preferred messengers. "I am a warrior, not a socialite. This is the most time I've spent with another in many, many years. I find myself unsure in my actions."

Elida

 

[Elida]

“I don’t care.” She mumbled, pouting and turning her face from his. “Ignore me all you like.” She hated it. It was in her nature to hate such a thing. She hadn’t been around as long as many others, but in all her years she had never experienced something such as this.

She had been rejected by a fae hunter, but she had appeased such a thought by the fact that it was always supposed to be so. He had put his sights on her and in some twisted way, she could find solace in the fact that she had still been wanted.

“Clearly.” She said, her voice prim and sharp. Elida was already bracing herself, muscles taut and pushing her anger to the surface, hiding the hurt that would surely come. “I am burdening you. Warrior or socialite doesn’t matter. You want to put me down. Then do it. Put me down. I’ll walk beside you and keep you from having the displeasure of touching me.”

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Once more Elida brought feelings to Razareal that he'd never experienced before. The Sower had been spoken rudely to in the past, and even by those he considered his allies, or 'friends'. Never, though, had he felt so jilted by another's words. Elida had only been with him for the span of a day and already she'd attained the power to wound him with her words.

Of course, it only hurt as much as it did because he didn't want to put her down. He wanted her to care, to seek his attention. Why he desired these things was still somewhat lost to the Spring Knight, but he recognized his own wishes, nevertheless. Wincing at the edge of her voice, he stopped walking towards the castle and instead, turned to carry them towards the side of the road, into a long strip of shade under a tall sidewinding tree hanging over a line of stone buildings.

"Hear me, Elida." He spoke lowly as he lowered her to the ground gently, his eyes ever so briefly traveling over her as if she were so delicate the simple act of releasing her could break her. "I do not wish to have you anywhere but my arms. Were it up to me, I would embrace you until you could see past the clouds that now trouble you, that we could face this foe in solidarity, without the need for the intervention of royalty."

Razareal did not think as he spoke, but swept the words resting on his chest up his throat and out of his mouth like dust, eager to be rid of the burden. His voice was earnest, and his eyes tinged with conflict. He was strong of body and resolute of mind. His heart though, had been terribly confused.

"At the same time, I do not wish for our contact to be transactional. If our... interaction... was a means to an end for you, and nothing more, then it would be uncouth of me to pursue you further. I'm merely trying... to be considerate."

Gods, even he didn't understand what he was saying. How would she?

Elida

 

[Elida]

She was certain that when he set her on the ground, despite the soft look he gave her with his unpolished gaze, he was going to say all the things she didn’t want to hear. She must have been away from her own kind for too long as she felt nothing but surprise at Razareal’s confession. Clearly, he was confused, slight contradictions could be found that Elida recognized as one thing: nervousness.

The slight sidhe was unable to look away from his face, eyes narrowed as she tried to see if he was playing a trick or moving around words to… to what? She didn’t know why she felt like he would have an ulterior motive, not when he seemed so genuine and wounded from what he had just said.

Elida looked away. She hadn’t had any magic to use coercion on him, even when she felt some magic returning, she hadn’t thought to use it. Had she done it unconsciously? Is that why she felt drained? Elida considered this possibility as it had been so long since she had used coercion.

No. If she had used magic, she would have known. The magic given to her by Razareal had been used to heal her wounds further. So what did this make Razareal’s confession if she hadn’t used coercion?

Heat crawled up from her cheeks to the pointed tips of her ears as Elida looked back at her hero. He liked her despite her not using magic? He liked her despite being wingless? He liked her despite her scars? Despite her lack of beauty? Elida wasn’t sure anyone had liked her while being imperfect and without coercion.

“You have a crush on me.” She smiled as she said this, standing up on her toe tips as if she could reach Razareal’s height. She couldn’t get even close. A breeze warmed her blushing cheeks, limp and tangled hair flittering about her face like thin ribbons of gold. Magic swelled in her, the swallow appearance that had arrived this morning now momentarily fading.

She was bright and glowing, effervescent and ethereal like dawn’s first light after a particularly cold winter.

“But you do not know me and I do not know you.” Regardless of the truth in that statement, she tiptoed forward and pressed her small face into his chest. “Yet I know I wish for your arms around me in this moment.” And with bated breath, Elida waited to see what Razareal would do next.

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

A crush?

It was such a childish term, one he hadn't heard since his own youth. Normally he would have scoffed at the notion he was so haplessly smitten with a woman he'd only just met, and yet as she leaned forward with skin practically glowing and pores alight with the energy he knew to be his own adoration for her, Razareal couldn't really argue with her. There was far too much evidence to back up her claim.

"I... enjoy your presence." He stammered in some pitiable attempt at his own defense, eyes shifting off to the side as if it were going to help him at all. Raz's own flesh was tanned enough so that the slight tinge of color on his skin was hopefully unnoticed. "I feel you're being too harsh on yourself, regarding your imperfections. As somebody with their own flaws and scars... It pains me to hear you speak of yourself in such ways."

Because Razareal had loathed himself for so long, well and truly. The Knight had cursed his blood, cursed the abnormal strength he wielded, and how it distanced him even more from his brethren. For every moment of silent strength he displayed now, there had been a moment of anger and sorrow in the privacy of his own mind. Elida... she did not deserve to suffer such pain. He loathed that path for her and would do anything to avert such a fate.

Slowly he met her eyes once more, and as Elida fell against his chest his arms rose to embrace her again, before her spoken desire had even fully left her lips.

"I rushed to bring you to the King because I feared these feelings that I've so strangely grown. If our connection was naught but transactional, Nairth would serve you far better than I." Fear was something that Razareal did not admit lightly; as the head of Spring's might, it was unheard of to proclaim it aloud. Yet another token of how quickly the strange wingless sidhe had stirred the sleeping emotions within the stoic warrior. Clutching her tightly, Razareal tucks his face against her neck, sliding his eyes shut. "I apologize, for acting hastily and making you feel undesired. My intent is quite the opposite."

Elida

 

[Elida]

He enjoyed her presence? Even without her magic? Even without her figuring out how to suit him? He was nervous about the feelings he had? What feelings? He said his intent was the opposite of undesired, so he desired her? Elida’s wings would have fluttered in this moment in delight, but instead all she could feel were phantom pains.

Razareal had given her what her heart desired, at least in this moment. There was affection but more than that a warmth that came from feeling safe. Was this transactional? Elida hadn’t considered it before, but she supposed all her relationships had been transactional. She desired love, it was in her nature. This time was different though, and Elida knew she wished for revenge as much as she wished for affection.

“I thought you were taking me to the King to tell him of Suntory Market.” Elida said, not pulling away from Razareal, still standing on her toe tips but now craning her neck back so she could look into his eyes. “And maybe to finally get me a bath. I am dirty still.” She wasn’t going to drop that subject anytime soon even if she would refuse to say outright what she wanted.

“You do not want to take me to the king?” She asked, tilting her head in inquiry. “To have me for yourself? Because you fear I’ll seduce him? ” Maybe if she wasn’t wingless she could do such a thing, but as she was now… well, Razareal had such a high opinion of her, didn’t he?

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Razareal's expression as he looked down at the Sidhe in his arms shifted from unease to amusement as she pried further into his actions, following a trail of invisible evidence into what she believed his reasoning was. And she was correct, on a few counts. Razareal did still intend to report what had happened to the King, and he did wish to ask for San'Seya's blessing to devote his time to this cause. To not do so would be a disrespect to his monarch.

"The King is rather known for his capacity for affection. Far more powerful Fae than either of us has fallen to his charm in the past. I would not think any less of you for wishing to ingratiate yourself towards him... However," Razareal muttered through his smile, sliding a hand up to run his palm softly along the side of Elida's cheek, thinking nothing of her soiled flesh when he'd seen the heaven underneath that dirt as clear as day. "I admit some trepidation. I thought perhaps you would decide him more suitable for you than I. A strange bit of jealousy, perhaps. Quite unlike me, I assure you."

He didn't feel the need to point out the implication that Elida was somehow a special case to him. She seemed to have figured that out herself just fine. He wasn't about to say aloud that he wished for Elida to be his and his alone; it still seemed rather soon to make such a proclamation to her, and certainly, she had other things weighing on her. Still, he couldn't deny the beating of his heart, the heat of his blood as she looked up at him with no small amount of affection in her own stare, the glowing warmth that had returned to her body radiating through him.

The Sower tilted his head and pressed the edge of his forehead against hers, a hint of the mischief that had glowed behind his gaze when he'd helped her with her restraints the previous day returning. "You make a valid point, though... Perhaps it would be rather crass of me to present you to the King before you've been washed. The day is young, we could afford a detour, should you be interested."

Elida

 

[Elida]

“I don’t care for kings,” Elida said with a smile, “they usually have many lovers and I like to be the only one.” The young sidhe understood well enough it was to be expected, much like humans ran to a fae like moths to a flame, kings and queens often had a collection of subjects that were willing to throw themselves at royalty. Elida was too selfish, and perhaps too clever, to garner attention that was shared with so many others.

It wouldn’t have satisfied her nor fulfilled her. Not the way Razareal had. She was certain of this although she had no proof. She just knew in her heart. Elida was a firm believer in trusting her heart, even more so than her mind. It had gotten her in trouble before but it left her with little regret in life.

“It is crass of you, Razareal.” Impish, playful. “How could you? Silly man. I may need to tell the King how you prefer your women filthy.” She pulled away from him then and offered him her small hand. “Let’s see this detour of yours and perhaps I’ll stop teasing you.”

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Far be it from Razareal to speak ill of his King's habits, but the Sower couldn't deny Nairth's hedonistic ways did seem to leave him with various lovers. Of course, that wasn't unordinary for a Duanann of such status, but hearing Elida's distaste for it in this scenario did bring a coy smile to his face. Though he understood not the exact nature of his feelings for the troubled and vengeful Sidhe in his arms right now, he did know that she was the only female whom he had eyes for at this moment.

"Miss Elida," The Spring Knight purred as she pulled herself from his arms, keeping his limbs outstretched, his fingers trailing across her flesh as she broke from him. "Perhaps I need remind you of some of the 'crass and filthy' language you saw fit to use whilst in my bed?" He teased back. The Leannan had been far from cherubic in her enjoyment of being revitalized, and he'd have no sass without dealing some of it back to her. "Because I'll certainly be reporting none of that to my King, lest he find vested interest in whom I wish for myself."

It was an awkward, wordy, and roundabout way of flirtation, but the Sower hadn't much experience in talking his way around the fairer sex. These sensations, these feelings he held inside of him were new. Yet as his large hand took her own, tiny by comparison, he felt now that perhaps they were not something that he should fear.

Razareal diverted them from their path directly towards Grovehaven's castle, instead straying from the main road, through the twisting dirt paths that embraced the thick trees teeming with Fae living in the homes built around them. The soil beneath their feet felt incredibly soft and fertile, almost spongy enough to be considered a marsh, but it maintained its solidity enough for them to walk without a mess.

The long road, shadowed by a canopy of trees overhead, wound around the left side of the Castle, and soon the sound of running water overpowered the muffled voices of Spring's people. A large river, illuminated by sunlight pouring in from a gap in the treetops, came into view before them. Its water was almost unnaturally clear and pristine, and the rushing waters ran all the way into the Castle, now farther in the horizon.

Gripping Elida's hand, Razareal leads her upstream, basking in the serenity of the air as they near the lake the river runs from, only a short walk from where they'd emerged.

"This lake runs into the castle, and is used for their hot springs," Razareal explains, leaving Elida's side to walk to the edge of the water, kneeling to dunk his head beneath the surface for a moment, coming up with a gasp and a sigh. "It's so pure, and it maintains it's purity through the efforts of our people... Such quality is difficult to find even in Falwood."

Elida

 

[Elida]

There was little Elida could say as Razareal, perhaps unbeknownst to himself, admitted his feelings. It was all at once blunt and yet still beating around the bush, a contradiction that showed more truth than the warrior thought. The wisp of a woman didn’t mind it, the way he spoke, to say one thing and then another that didn’t agree with the former, because despite his entanglement of spoken words, she could find his heart, his truth in it.

Even if he were mortal and could lie, Elida thought she’d still know where his inner thoughts would be. It was this thought, full of sweetness and contemplation, that kept her from giving Razareal another little retort. Her wit wasn’t lacking, but currently, she felt a pleasantness settle over her and speaking would ruin it. Walking in silence with the sidhe was preferable, comfortable even.

On tip toes, Elida seemed ready to waft through the breeze like the budding floral scent of spring, delicate and dazzling like the sunlight that filtered through the heavy canopy of leaves to dapple the soft ground beneath. When she saw the lake, there was a pause, stunned silence and arched brows saying more than words ever could. But one could always try.

“It’s beautiful,” her mossy eyes were unable to look away from the clear, glimmering waters, even as Razareal strode to the lake. Her words remained true even as he tested the water for himself, confirming its purity. If water truly could heal, Elida imagined this was the fabled fountain of youth, hidden away from mortal view. Maybe that was why such a name even came about, blaming water for the long lifespans of the fae. Elida didn’t waste more time on the thought, caring little for the rhetorical beginnings of words or phrases or even the fae themselves.

She dropped the only garment that covered her, stepping out from the fabric and heading to the edge. She hesitated.

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Self-loathing. Vengeance. Such ugly, ugly feelings that were coiled around her organs and bones, beginning to become ingrained in the fibers of her being, turning into the only fuel her body would need. Did she dare step inside the lake? Did she dare sully it with her filthy, bitter body and soul?

Elida couldn’t hide the frown on her face, couldn’t hide the furrowing of her brows. Did she dare ruin something so beautiful? The crystal clear waters easily reflected Elida’s perturbed face, her expression as clear as if it were a looking glass. Her golden hair, her dainty features, her saddened eyes. Did she want to tarnish something so perfect?

The wingless sidhe began to wade into the water, each step bringing her deeper. It was cool and refreshing, soothing and healing. She could feel the years of dirt and grime, the more recent sweat and blood slowly sloughing off from her skin. If only she didn’t feel such exhilaration for this meager bit of corruption, for the eventual ruination of everything she had been.

If only she didn’t like destroying beautiful things.

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Elida stepped ever closer to the pure waters of the lake. Her pace was not eager, but trepidatious and fearful. Even as the single garment that concealed her beautifully sculpted form fell to the vibrant grass beneath her and her skin glimmered in the sunbeams overhead, Razareal could look nowhere but her eyes. Whether or not it had been said in clear words, he'd openly admitted that he cared for this Sidhe. What had once been a curiosity as to her mental state was now a vested interest.

Cleaning that which had been touched by hatred and bitterness was no easy feat. It would take more than his touch and the cleansing waters of the Spring to expunge those dark and vengeful feelings from Elida's heart. As the Leannan dipped her toes into the water, letting the transparently clean surface rise to her ankle, he recognized it as but the first step in a long journey of recovery, of self-reflection.

To cast a shadow was easy, but to escape one was a feat of the Gods themselves.

"There is no beauty without ugliness."

As Elida sank deeper into the warm, glimmering waters of the lake, she would feel a pair of arms wrap around her waist. Thick and powerful, hardened from the battle and labor that defined his very existence. Razareal pressed his bare chest to her back, his chin resting gently in the crook of her neck as he whispered these words to her. "Look upon what's been washed from you. The dirt will sink, settling back to the bottom of the lake. The blood will be diluted until it is indistinguishable from the water itself. The sweat will dissolve in the light of the sun, rising up to the sky to be cast back down upon our heads."

The Sower of Spring slowly scrubbed some of the more resilient spots on the Sidhe's lithe body, his eyes sliding shut as he listened to the beating of her troubled heart, the rhythm of worried breaths in and out of her chest.

"You see yourself as damaged. Corrupt and polluted. But no soul is without darkness, no heart without hatred. This damage inflicted upon you is a temporary cast around the beauty that I see each time I lay eyes upon you."

Razareal gently placed his lips upon the nape of her neck before releasing her to walk further into the lake, the surface rising to his chest as he poured handfuls of water over his head to rinse himself. The first time he'd bathed in this Spring, he too had been angry. His own home had expelled him, his people uninterested in giving him a chance to live amongst them, for things that he could not control.

He'd washed that hatred away. Someday, so too would she. Even if he had to help her through every step, every moment of every day.

This Elida was meant for more than revenge. He was certain of it.

Elida

 

[Elida]

It had been hard for her to come into the crystalline, cool waters. The natural part of her had been delighted at the sight and subtle temperature drop. The moment she had even sunk her toes in, her heart swelled with such sweet and tender elation. So with each step, Elida fought the urge to turn back and run. She still felt guilty for enjoying such a lovely thing, and as she now seriously considered running, he was behind her.

Razareal anchored them to the spot, his strong arms around her small waist was more than enough to have her breath go still. His broad chest against the delicate cut of shoulder blades and spine. Before she could pull away, or push him away, the sidhe warrior held her, pulling her into his embrace. She could feel some of his weight against her, eyes widening as she realized that he was still trying to be gentle with her and still couldn’t help being so… big.

“You’re spoiling me, now. What a dangerous thing to do.” She was coy with her words, but her movement was far more playful as she arched her back, bending over to tease. A glow had come back to her skin, causing Elida to be sun-kissed and blushing rose all at once. The faintest twinkle her spring green eyes could be missed by how wide her smile had become. It had been years since she stretched her mouth so wide and far. It almost felt foreign.

“I’ll expect grandiose compliments like that one from now on.” She turned her head towards his, kissing his cheek. “Now you can’t call me beautiful and be done with it. I’ll demand for you to tell me I am most beautiful even when I’m ill-tempered.” Her hands were over his, but they weren’t enough to keep Razareal in place. Elida balked as he left her to go further into the lake to clean himself, ignoring her playful teasing. She stood there, dumb founded as she slowly crossed her arms over her chest.

How dare he ignore her.

“Pay attention to me.” Elida muttered as she made a couple of large splashes towards Razareal as she trotted back up to him. If he thought she’d leave him alone, especially after a heartfelt speech that got her all warm and fuzzy, then he would be sorely mistaken. His days of peace would be long forgotten now that Elida has forced her way to be at his side.

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Razareal felt his body come alive against her as she arched, memories of the night prior fresh in his mind, the warmth of her body against his enough to send him spiraling from any focus or responsibility if he did not oversee his hands and eyes. The grazed lips across his face only drew attention to her smile, more beautiful and bright than he'd ever seen.

A knowing grin found its way to his face as he disengaged from Elida's reciprocation, knowing full well it what it would do to her. For a woman he'd known only a handful of days, Razareal felt as though he understood her more than any other being he'd met before. That being the shortlist that it was, it might have indeed been fact.

The Sower turned at her muttered demand, successfully drawing her deeper into the lake as she pursued him. Already, her body shimmered with energy, brimming with a power she'd not held before they'd dipped their toes in such precious waters. Razareal liked to imagine it was merely the ley energy that this pool was saturated with that replenished her, still uneasy about being the catalyst for Elida's recovery.

It was difficult to feel such unease when she vied for his attention, the near-pout folding her lips as she stood before him again.

"It wouldn't be any fun if I didn't make you work for it, would it?" He chuckled, stepping forward to meet her. The male sidhe's hands dipped under the cool waters, scooping up a handful of the crystalline liquid to pour over the front of her chest, just beneath her neck. It washed away the grime effortlessly, almost unnaturally. Razareal used his hands to wipe away the filth, tilting his head down to rest against her own, sinking down into the water slightly as his caress moved beneath the water, back to her hips as he pulled her into another embrace. "You didn't strike me as the type to take praise without weight..."

And her lips were once more on his.

Words muttered from tongue to tongue filled her ears, soft and muffled.

"Without thought you blossom. The energy we share is yet more proof of the beauty you still hold, both outside and within. Never forget your light, Elida. It is not dead."

Elida

 

[Elida]

"Oh," a soft, breathless whisper soon silenced by Razareal's lips, half-formed before disappearing altogether as she kissed him. She followed his rhythm and tempo, soon coaxing into a new dance with a new song entirely their own. Eyes would flutter shut, his earlier teasing no longer needing to be punished with splashing and cool, clean, crystal clear water.

She was left gasping for air, seafoam green eyes asking, no, demanding more. Until he said something peculiar. It brought back some of Elida's logic against the attention she craved, subduing her instincts to latch onto pain and suck his heart and soul dry. Did they share some sort of energy?

She was reminded of his magic, white-hot and pure plasma, turning whatever it touched to ash. Now that was the sort of light she wanted, the power she needed to get revenge. The sidhe blinked, remembering that was why she was here and following along after the Sower of Spring. She needed his power. She needed him.

Fae wasn't against using others to get what they wanted, and Elida would not let his sweet words and warm eyes dissuade her. The Suntory Market took everything from her—her magic, her beauty, her livelihood. Their fate would be worse than hers; she'd ensure it. She pursed her lips, not realizing she had been silent for so long, and had stared hard at Razareal's chest as if it were the faces she wished to destroy. She hadn't even realized the small crescent moons she made on his skin by digging her nails too deep.

Elida looked away, taking a step back. Her filth may have been cleansed, but her heart would remain polluted.

"I don't know what light you see from it, but I assure you, it no longer exists." Like a candle in some gutter, destined to burn out sooner than later. "I am no longer the woman I had set out to be. I'm worse. So much worse than you think." She looked down at her open palms. "My kind is not made to be violent; our hands only know love, but last night," she swallowed the lump in her throat to no avail; it remained hard and scratchy. "Last night I dreamed of going back and killing everyone. They turned me into a murderer before I even had the chance to spill blood. I will not rest until they are dead."

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

For all the iron in the world that could sear his flesh, none of it could claim to be as hard as Razareal's body, as unyielding as his resolve and determination. Yet even so, Elida eroded his defenses with only the slightest touch. Her lips and hands tore through the shell he'd so proudly worn for his entire life like soft clay, pushing into his innermost needs, his hidden and repressed desires.

Were it any other, such ease would have terrified him. The longer he remained with this Leannan, though, the longer her twisted light mixed with his own, the more he craved it. The Sower was content to let himself be weaved and molded by her love, to the point that when they fell into the same dance of flesh and lust that had claimed them once before, he felt no qualms with the idea of claiming her once more even in these purest of waters.

Yet it was their single disconnect that pushed them apart once more. Razareal believed in Elida's purity, that she remained whole and untainted beneath the layers of hate and anger that had been so forcefully bequeathed to her. Elida held no such faith. Her words were that of self-condemnation, of prophecy already fulfilled.

As her warmth left him, he felt his hands reaching out in some hapless attempt to keep her close. In that moment, floating idly in the pure Spring waters as the creature who'd so taken his heart derided and degraded herself, he felt no stronger than the meekest of pixies, let alone the warrior he'd trained himself to be. What good was he, if he could not save a single Sidhe?

"Elida, I..." He what? He believed she was wrong? Of course, he did, and she already knew that. No, there was no sugary word that would ease her mind, when those same honeyed whispers had brought these feelings back to her. Crossing his arms over his broad chest and allowing himself to sink deeper into the water, he more carefully chose his words. "I cannot ask you to believe that you can be salvaged. I understand why you would be so doubtful..."

She was right about some things she had said. Leannan were not meant to hate, to kill.

But despite her rage, Elida hadn't yet. Not truly.

"But you cannot ask me to not believe it. I will not insult your intelligence with my praises, but my faith in you will remain unshakable, if silent."

I'll shut up, but I haven't given up on you.

Shifting his body towards the edge of the lake, he averted his eyes from the beautiful creature, ashamed he'd been thinking so carnally of one so troubled and unsure.

"We may end this bath now, if you so desire..."

Elida

 

[Elida]

They were at a standstill, him seeing the good and her only able to see the bad. Her lips twisted downwards, and she opened her mouth, wanting to prove him, but no more words could come out. She had warned him enough already, hadn't she? He was choosing to do this, wasn't he?

Sometimes, there was nothing else to say. It was too late; their paths had been decided upon last night when they irrevocably fell into one another, like a painter's process to make a new color. Red on her hands, blue in his demeanor, and together they would become violet, radiant, vibrant, and deadly.

Elida did wonder when he would leave her to walk the path of revenge on her own. She hoped it was later rather than sooner and tried to ignore the pang in her heart despite it just being her imagination. By the Summerlands, she didn't want to let him go; every fiber of her body was already protesting at such a notion. It was best to move things along and think of things that were ironically easier to think about.

"This conversation is for another time. We have more important matters to handle. Am I clean, Razareal?" She asked him, turning slowly in a tight circle until she again faced him. "If I am, we are done. We will go to the King." Her green eyes steeled, dark with only a spark of light. "And I will get his help in any way I can."

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

A lack of a resolution felt as unsatisfying in this emotional tug-of-war between them as it did in any other battle. He'd neither won nor lost, leaving him back where he'd started. No, as Elida curtly asked if her body had been cleansed, he wondered if perhaps he'd actually lost ground with the ravishing Leannan.

With a reluctant nod, Razarealy slowly waded toward the lake's edge, gripping the soft earth and pulling his large frame out of the water and back onto the warm bed of grass waiting for him. Seating himself with his legs crossed, the Sower retrieved his leafy sash and draped it across his body once more.

With a trained eye on Elida, he focused on the sensations of every individual droplet of pure water as they ran down his flesh, dripping off and back into the soil once more.

He felt no filth, no corruption in the crystal waves they'd shared.

"I doubt you will need to vie hard for his aide." The Sidhe tempered her resolve as she too rose from the waters. There would scant be need to resort to any drastic means to secure San'Seya's assistance. Though with the darkness now clouding her eyes... "Though his hand will not act in vengeance as does yours."

Regardless of what came next, he would remain by her side. For he had given her that vow.

"Come. I'm sure he knows we approach by now."

Elida

 

[Elida]

She strode out of the clean, healing waters and picked up the robe on the ground. She could feel eyes belonging to nymphs, but when she turned her head, all she saw were flora and fauna. Why did they hide from her? She frowned contemplatively, turning her head back and down towards her hands. She was clutching at the garment, holding it tight against her chest.

A breeze blew through her damp hair, and a gale surrounded her. She gasped, her body tense, as she stepped back and looked about her. She caught the face of a sylph, translucent features barely there and hardly more than a shimmer and glimmer between a blink of the eyes. It smiled at her and gave a wink before dissipating and disappearing completely.

Elida's hair was dried to perfection, radiating a glow rivaling the sun's rays. Her wide eyes went to Razareal, as if asking for confirmation of what had just happened. She cleared her throat, silky tresses now still and flowing delicately along her pointed ears and slender neck in gold rivulets.

The darkness ebbed, a light coming through before a new realization dawned on her.

"I can't see through glamour," Elida admitted in a tight whisper. Her nose and brow scrunched in frustration, and her lips twisted up to hold back the words she wanted to spit out. "If the King does not act in vengeance, fine. I have enough for the entire Court."

Razareal

 

[Razareal]

Elida's wonder had indeed captured the attention of the living, breathing world around her. Razareal had noted the interest of the Air Spirits and the Nymphs as well, but those eyes had been following them since well before they arrived at the lake. Why was it that Elida only just now seemed to realize the audience she attracted?

He followed close behind her, gathering the modest coat of leaves he'd left on the shore and draping it across his shoulders she turned to face him with perplexion in place of her anger.

"I can't see through glamour,"

The Sower felt his brow knit at the hurried whisper. He wouldn't even have been able to make out what she said were she not directly facing him. Even then, Razareal wasn't entirely sure he'd heard her correctly. Couldn't see through glamour? Certainly that wasn't a symptom of her power wane or missing wings-- Much of that lost strength had been temporarily restored through his affections.

"...I didn't realize." He said simply, stepping forward to continue towards Grovehaven Castle. "But I assure you, were any Fae to wish you harm, I'd not allow that." Not that she seemed particularly keen on his protection, so hell-bent on being imperfect and incurable. There was something between them, a desire, a connection... but he would always see the light within her, and it was becoming increasingly clear that she couldn't bear that.

Still, he would remain. For her sake, if not for his own.

The looming, white stone walls of the Castle grew near now, the river flowing through a small notch in the western wall that flowed deep underneath the city's heart. The shimmer of pixies flattering from window to window glimmered even in the light of day, and a delightful mixture of flowers and baking bread wafted from the massive doors that hung ajar, short, stubby little creatures dressed in white hauling long loaves from the castle for Spring's people to enjoy.

"Elida..." They neared the entryway to the Grand Hall, and within it, the King she sought counsel from. The air of caution in his voice couldn't be misread. "I understand your anger, I've made that much clear, but... Do remember who it is you'll be speaking to."

As fond as he'd grown of her, he couldn't bear to see her on the bad side of The King. Patient though he was, to ire him was a gruesome error.

Elida