Fae Courts The Twins' Tournament

[Quacey]

Beloved Twins,
I offer thee my grins.
I offer thy perfection
My eternal, enduring affection!

The Twins, divine sisters, dominating the night sky. Goddesses worshiped by many fae. Guides in the dark to creatures of the day. Matriarchs high above to beings of the night.

Quacey stood before the tourney grounds. Everything was ready. Stages for poets, musicians, and actors established between rings for duels. Archery grounds, one on each end of the grounds and in the center as part of the main arena. Stables for races to be run around the entire event. Stalls for food, drink, and rest scattered equally between it all so none can go without a need fulfilled.

The mountainous fae had a handsome, willowy companion step in next to him. "Is it to your liking Lord Quacey?"

"Mine? Does not matter. It is to the liking of the Twins. That is what is important."

The willowy fae looked to the lord. "What is important to us is that you uphold your end of our deal."

Quacey looked down at them. "My word was given. The Parlor of Lunar Blooms will be allowed to visit my home to worship as they see fit for the next solstice."

"You have our deepest gratitude." A slight bow followed.

"Offer it to the Twins. I require none." His gaze went back to the tournament grounds. "Now let us show our devotion and let all fae enjoy a bit of fun."

The large fae turned and began to join those already filtering into place below.

====================

The tournament was opened. All fae were welcome regardless of court or parlor or reputation. All were welcomed as they were under the gaze of the Twins. The tourney would be held during the day and at night worship would be held for the Twins. Glory. Devotion. Boredom. Whatever one wished to gain or escape was equally valid. There was only one rule to be upheld: Respect is given to all. Respect shown shall be received.

The music was playing. Food was cooking. Drinks ready for the taking. Soon the competitions would begin once all who wished to partake had signed up. Duels. Archery. Arts. Riding. Now was the time and the place to prove one's skills. Now was the time to learn what others could do.

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

The sun beat down cheerfully on her black feathered back. The wind kissing passed her beak the faster she flew. The shadows that always clung to her limbs, were but mere ghosts in the radiant morning light.

She was flying towards the Twins' Tournament, an event that had been an invite to all of Faekind. Which, as it were when anything involved the Fae. Was a possible recipe for both disaster and triumph in equal measure.

Nyxx grinned inwardly, for she relished the possibility of both. Nothing like a little ruffled noble feathers to keep everyone on their toes. All puns intended, of course. Only a coward refused to use puns.

Even up in the sky, Nyxx could feel the distant call of leylines in the earth. She could have easily used them to traverse the land and arrive at the festival. But the Fury of Nightmares was one who enjoyed arriving in style.
There was nothing like taking the opportunity to relish in the looks of fear, envy, lust, and hate that her presence garnered whenever she dropped from the sky.

It's what kept the game interesting. The game being anything involving the courts. For they were all players on a board. Dancing in and out of each other's reach. Knives and flowers behind the backs of many. Because when you lived as long as they did, life became a game. Everything started to mean nothing, and nothing started to mean everything. Otherwise, one would go mad from the weight of the years.

But you already are. Whispered a shadowy voice inside herself.

That voice of shadows had lived inside her since she devoured the first nightmares of men. It was their doubt, their worries, and their fear. She was all that made flesh. Her formative years lost to time and darkness. Now she was a denizen of nightmares. A feral thing that walked the line between the realms of dreams and reality.

A large accumulation of magic and power pulsed from down below.

Ah, it seems she had arrived.

With a harsh avian croak, Nyxx tucked her black wings and dived from the clouds. The scream of the wind roared passed her ears. The quick descent filling her with a savage joy. She dove and saw the lay of the tournament below. There were so many colors and patterns. Small moving dots of Fae that traipsed through the maze cloth pavilions. It was organized chaos and it was glorious. Already the cacophic blend of music and laughter rose up to greet her. If she could have in her raven form, she would be fighting a rare smile from the infectious excitement that was starting to build in her chest.

Spotting a banner near the front of the tournament grounds, Nyxx landed on the top of the pole. Black talons holding her steady as she flicked her head from side to side and watched as people arrived.

If one were to look up at the raven clicking it's beak excitedly, they would note it was no ordinary bird. For this one had cunning golden eyes. And the smallest ribbons of opaque shadow that seemed to dance around her wings and tail feathers. The effect quickly eaten by the sunlight.

 

[Ophelia]

It was a 'now-or-never' situation and while Ophelia had stubbornly opted for the 'never', she was persuaded by her loyal best friend to attend the Twins' Tournament. He told her it was 'unfair' to withhold information from one of the parties involved. He may have even called her mean.

She was not mean. She was realistic. Though she was surprised Quacey was still not dead after their encounter, she knew it was inevitable. It would be him or the child he wanted. Ophelia was indifferent. She held no attachment to either because she knew she was a ticking time bomb.

Everyone she had ever loved would die, so the solution was to stop loving things. It may have been a terrible outlook on her situation, but it was better for everyone else if she remained bitter and alone.

Quacey told her she was welcome whenever, however she opted to stay in an inn after her arrival. Perhaps she was nervous or scared. For what reason, though, she was unsure of. She would force herself to push past those reasons and attend the tournament, deliver the news some may consider 'good', and be on her merry way. Cas would be happy, Ophelia would be indifferent, and Quacey would be however Quacey was in a situation like this.

It had been months since they last spoke and for his own sake, Ophelia prayed he had found some new lost soul to play with. It would be easier on her, to give them her child and move on like nothing had ever happened. That would be the best case scenario.

It took a few hours by carriage to arrive, but she had finally made it. The doors opening would reveal a woman, white as snow, in a black dress covered with red roses. It was a similar pattern to her typical garb, though there was a change in the style in a rather useless attempt to cover a growing bump.

Upon stepping out of the carriage, she would be lured onto the grounds by the scents of food melting together, stopping just in front of one of the food stalls as the flowers she brought to pay respect to The Twins began to quickly wilt in her hands.

 

[Adrian Black]

Rohan enjoyed social gatherings for the simple reason of getting to watch the drama that the fae always seemed to get into. Every. Single. Time. It was free entertainment that he did not have to be involved in and he usually got free food and alcohol. It was hard to beat.

The black shuck had tried to convince Samara to join him so they could enter the tournament together but she had told him (not so) politely to go fuck himself. She had plans already.

So the shuck had left him home this morning and headed to the The Twins' Tournament. He debated taking the ley right off the bat but, instead, decided on running some in his canine form sounded much better. He had enjoyed the wind flowing through his fur for a few hours before he shifted back and stepped into the ley.

His first stop upon arriving at the tournament grounds was to find a drink followed by finding a nice shaded seat to enjoy the festivities. As he got comfortable, he looked around the expansive grounds with a please scowl.

It was going to be a good day indeed.

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh had decided at the very last minute decision to attend the tournament. She had gone back and forth for days because she was in the middle of trying to move to the Dusk Court, she was pregnant, and she was anxious about the Proving. Passing it would literally decide her and her child's future home.

She wore one of her long flowly light blue dresses that matched the icy color of her eyes. Thanks to her small but growing by the day bump, her dress was slightly shorter in the front. The whole pregnancy thing was something she was still getting used to. This whole first trimester had been miserable and that was aside from losing Griogair. She had morning sickness like none other and the smell of certain foods made her want to vomit everywhere.

The tournament grounds were beautifully set up and she was surprised that the many smells did not cause her stomach to turn. Perhaps she would even be able to eat something. It did not take her long to see the massive fae that was her friend and the host of the tournament.

A soft smile curved her lips as she headed towards Quacey. He was as handsome now that she was sober as he had been when she was drunk so it was nice to see that her tastes were the same no matter the circumstances.

"Lord Quacey, I heard you like to help wayward souls," Ceilidh's smile grew as she spoke to him. She had come quite a long way since their last meeting with the most notable difference being her bump.

---

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

There was much to attend to. Stalls needed to be observed for quality. Respect maintained.... Mostly that was it so far. The tourney had just begun and few knew what the Lord of Twin Home looked like. He was a glorified guard and administrator. A dull experience. Essential yet dull.

But things changed when he heard a familiar voice call out to him. Turning as he said with a smile, "Lady Ceillidh, welcome to the Twin's Tournament."

The first thing he noticed was the fatigue about her. Partly from travel partly from stress. The next was the bump hidden beneath her dress. What might be the cause? He had an assumption but it would be rude to act upon it until it was confirmed.

"You are looking lovely in that dress. It fits your curves wonderfully and brings out the beauty of your eyes."

A hand was offered for her so that he might grant a kiss.

Ceilidh Trahan Ophelia Eärtári Nyxx Rohan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

A light, sweet laugh came from between her lips at his curves comment. Her dress hid every curve she had except her growing breasts and belly but she supposed it did fit those wonderfully. Quacey was way too polite to ask if she was pregnant though. He was one of the good ones.

The High Lady of the Winter Court put her slender hand in his to accept the kiss. Once the formalities were completed, she pulled the taller fae into a brief hug of true, friendly greeting.

"My curves have changed slightly since I last saw you," Ceilidh said and set her right hand atop her bump. "And I am sober!" She said with a smile that said obviously.

Not many people knew how much of an alcoholic she had become but it was nice to have a clear mind. Well...both nice and terrifying.

"How have you been, Quacey?"

---

Quacey

 

[Nairth San'Seya]

How long had it been since he'd last left Grovehaven?

Ever since his coronation, The King of the Spring Court, Nairth San'Seya had felt empty within. Power brought no peace to his soul, and the words he'd so proudly spoke to all of his brothers and sisters rang hollow even to him now. Shaeliegh, his previous chamberlain, had vanished. Quacey had many other things besides service on his mind, and Nairth had seen fit to not contest that freedom as well. All that truly remained in Grovehaven was his son Tharu.

How ironic, that the offspring that had once driven him to insanity now was the one holding him together? Still, there was no point on dwelling upon his troubles. This tournament was an opportunity for him to get away from the mundanity of Kingship. He doubted he would compete, but the idea of seeing what the courts had to offer was intriguing to him.

And certainly he had spared no expense, donned in robes of gold and emerald that trailed behind him like a like a gilded serpent following his every footstep. In the sunlight the soft material shone and glimmered with light, while at dusk it became sheer, displaying the heavily painted flesh underneath. More symbolic than it was sensual, although Nairth had never been modest.

Nairth had seen little in the way of familiar faces on his approach to the grounds. He would need to greet Quacey at some point at least. Passing one of the large poles planted in the ground, however, The King stopped in his tracks. A raven, clicking atop it and looking down at the bustling crowd, but it was no bird. The aura of a fae seeped from every pore of the creature, and Nairth sought it's gaze with a mild curiosity.

"Do you often come to such events in disguise? That seems rather unnecessary."

Nyxx

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

Any Fae event was a beautiful and lavish affair. This tournament was no exception. She could even see the hand of Quacey here and there throughout the grounds with the little details he had included. He had outdone himself.

And there was the man himself, towering over even the other Duanann below her. Not that many of the Duanaan had a problem standing above Nyxx. She stood at only 6”. A point of contempt for many and also a reason for Nyxx to punish others should they make the mistake of mentioning it to her.

Honestly though, she wished it would happen more. She loved to punish the rude and the deserving. Her talons flexed her grip on the banner at the ghost of issuing past indignant justice.

She had been lost in thought when the tinkling of laughter drew her avian eye back to Quacey. And how curious… The man was now engaging in conversation with Ceilidh Trahan, until recently a High Lady of the Winter Court, but from recent whispering among the nobility, she was told of a possible move into Dusk. Her eyes honed in on the hand that the beautiful woman rested protectively on her stomach. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Are you jealous…” A dark voice whispered in her head. Malicious intrigue coloring the voice. The question coerced an angry croak from her throat. She prepared to take off from her vantage point, refusing to entertain the shadows that plagued her existence, when a male voice below her drew her attention.

Garish cloth of green and gold adorned the handsome form of the King of Spring. An amused look on his face. Clicking her beak, Nyxx sent whispers on the backs of shadows at Nairth. They would wrap around the mantle of his shoulders and find their destination in the shell of his ear.

"Tis this not all part of the joy of the game, Your Grace? Let them wonder." The tone was coy, even though it seemed to sound with the layering of many hushed voices.

Without another word. She flapped her wings and launched from her perch and dipped close to where the two Fae she had been watching chatted. Leaving them with a friendly raven screech, before flying into the tournament grounds.

Finding the alley that held most of the stands with food and drink, she stepped through the veil within herself that separated her two shapes. It was as easy as breathing. And between one inhale and the next, where once an obsidian raven flew, now stood the form of the Fury of Nightmares.

The motion of residual flight blew her long white hair around her face before settling back into its normal pin-straight shape. She was not adorned in a gown like many of the noble female Duanaan, no, instead she wore a form fitting top and leggings. The underbust corset was black, as well as the loose top that cut a deep V to her breasts. A leather harness was layered on top. With her ever present cloak of Starlight over her shoulders. It was an interesting piece of clothing. The material resembled nothing corporeal. It was a deep inky blue. With a splash of twinkling constellations, that seemed to move and change according to the stars that were directly over Nyxx in whatever region she was in. Then there was the final piece of her outfit; her favorite pair of knee high black heeled boots. Anything she could use to give her artificial height amongst her fellow Duanann.

Golden eyes flickering nervously around the booths, noting many familiar and unfamiliar faces that milled around. There would be socializing, duels, and hearts mended as well as hearts broken this tourney. Either way, Nyxx was determined to test her mettle in friendly competition today. Even unfriendly ones were welcomed. The intrusive thought pulled a savage grin from her black mouth.

But first, she needed a fucking drink.

Ceilidh Trahan Quacey Nairth San'Seya

 

[Quacey]

The subtle confirmation was not lost on the large fae. So she was with child. It was hard to judge how far along she was though given the dress' design. He doubt it was his. Knowing her if it was his then she would have informed him far, far sooner. But there was still that chance.

Her hand was raised up to his lips and gently he kissed her knuckles. He held on ever so lightly so that her hand would only slip away when she wished to remove it.

"You carry them well. Still as graceful as before. Are you attempting to make others envious?"

A slight smirk. He should approach the main topic.

"So who is sharing this most joyous event with you?"

The smirk shifted into a regular smile.

==============

As Nyxx had deemed the tourney truly worthy of her presence at last, she would find the competitions of a more creative nature were closer to beginning. In particular the final call was being made for participants of the bardic tale telling contest. It had filled up rather quickly. Fae did love their stories after all.

Ceilidh Trahan Nyxx

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

There were three loud and successive blasts of a herald's trumpet that broke through the din of the crowd behind Nyxx.

She had found an outdoor bar and stopped to find liquid courage at the bottom of a few glasses of strong honey wine. The Fury could hold her liquor. Hell, she could even face many a foe with a snarling smile on her face. But she found that even after all this time. Crowds made her nervous, and speaking in front of them, even more so. But she had a soft heart for stories and poetry. Her magic in a sense, was fed by stories. Albeit, they be twisted ones.

She ran a black tipped hand through her hair. A bad habit she found she did when she was on edge.
With a wave of goodbye to her bartender. She made her way back to the front of the tourney grounds, where the trumpeting had called to her.

There, a colorful pavillion was set up with a temporary desk next to a grand stage that hung fairie lights and banners of all the Courts. There was also a growing mass of people sitting at tables in front of the stage. Many chatting amongst their friends, while a few sat alone and enjoyed their people watching.

On approach, she noted parchments and quills covered the desk. A ballot box sat on the edge of the wooden surface. There was a handful of Fae who stood behind it, seemingly the ones who manned the competition.

Was the competition by votes then? Ugh. Great. So this would actually be a popularity contest and not a test of actual skill. Her black lips turned in a subtle scowl of distaste. Goodie for her. No one liked nightmares. Especially when someone could read the deepest fears of their souls. It was a perverted form of intimacy. To know what made up the dark corners of a person. And the Fae had many long years to find their fear and build their regrets. Whatever they may be.

She could feel the start of those collected whispers creep into her mind. But before they could take hold, Nyxx took a deep breath and stepped up to the table.

To any of the staff she asked, "I'm looking to join if I still can? I have a story that I think people will enjoy." Offering a nervous smile, while trying to cease the impulse to fidget with the edge of her cloak.

Quacey Rohan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh playfully rolled her eyes at Quacey, "I make people envious wherever I go," she replied.

Indeed, Ceilidh as rich, beautiful, and a High Lady. Now she had been blessed with a gift that alluded so many duanann - herself included for so many years - and she just added to the perfection of her life. Too bad the perfection was an illusion and only those who had ever lost a mate could understand the pain she lived with still. Now Griogair was gone...life sure liked fucking with her.

She frowned at his question and looked down at her stomach before returning her eyes to his with a sad look drawn over her features.

"His name is Griogair and I am afraid that only I will be joyous now for I fear that he is dead..."

He had left on his suicide mission to Night Court and she had not heard from him since. The last news she had received was from one of her smugglers and it had not been good. He had been captured and she knew he was gone. It broke her heart all over again.

---

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

A frown formed on Quacey's face after Ceilidh had finished speaking. The news that it was not his kid was expected, but that brought no joy. The father was feared to be dead which meant she was alone once more. Alone in raising the child. Something his heart went out for.

"I am saddened to hear this Cece. Is there anything I could do to help? Raising a child alone is no easy task. Worthwhile but not easy."

The large fae gently squeezed her hand. About the only comfort he could currently provide outside of giving her a hug after. This was certainly not the news he had hoped to hear from her. But life rarely brought him good news from others. It seemed unnaturally fond of granting him terrible news as often as possible.

============

An even lankier than normal fae sat at the sign up desk for the competition. Her speckled hair was pulled into a sloppy bun. Her brown eyes focused on a piece of paper. With a wave of her long fingers she said not looking up, "Yes. Yes. The best story of all time."

One finger tip fell down into a tap on the sign up sheet. "Sign here."

The finger pointed towards a section on the side of the stage where other fae in garb clearly announcing they told stories for fun and/or a living had gathered. "Then go there to wait your turn."

The fae went back to their work. After a moment she stopped and looked up. A fatigued, clearly faked and annoyed smile was give. "Oh and the reward is a mystery. Hooooooray!" A pause as the smile dropped away. "It isn't money."

And then she went back to her work.

Ceilidh Trahan Nyxx

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh squeezed Quacey's hand back and just sadly shook her head.

"No, not right now. I am in the middle of moving closer to the child's godfather so I will have some help there. I will not forget your offer, my friend. It means a lot to me."

She looked around the tournament grounds with a smile. "I do not want to hold you up any longer, I am going to go enjoy the food and the artist."

Ceilidh leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Quacey," she said before squeezing his hand once more and walking away.

---

Quacey

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

She found the candid attitude of the female Fae to be amusing. No doubt she was already fed up with the more pompous among her kind. She could agree with the sentiment.

Mumbling a quiet thank you. She took up a quill and wrote down her information. There, wth ink on the parchment, she had committed herself.

Deep breath in and a final nod to the staff, Nyxx turned to prowl with fake confidence towards the side of the stage to wait awkwardly. Her starlit cape snapping in the wind of dancing shadows behind her.

Ignoring the Fae that milled about beside her, she looked out into the crowd and scanned for any members of her own court. Hoping that if they were present, she didn't embarass herself irredeemably.

She felt a stare boring into her from the corner of the crowd, she turned her head to scan until she found who she was sure was her impolite admirer.

A tall male Fae lounged in his seat, alone at his table except for his drink. He was dressed all in black, his tattooed and muscular arms on display from a sleevless top. She found herself scanning him from his black boots, up, and up, a lithe body until her eyes found his. And, yehup. He was staring. And fuck, was he worth staring at.

But when their eyes met, she couldn't stop the immediate snarl of challenge that lifted the top of her black lips.

Nor the jolt she felt pull low in her stomach.

"Deep breath, Nyxx. Focus." She admonished to herself as she turned her attention to the herald on the stage. Reciting her story in her head as she waited.

Quacey Rohan

 

[Quacey]

A godfather for the child. He had an idea who that might be from their previous discussions. It was good she had help in caring for the child, but it also meat leaving her current court. Not the best circumstances for a child to be born into. Experience had taught him that. But it was her child and her choice how to raise it. Best he could do was just offer what he could when he could.

"Be well Cece. Relax and let yourself breath. Enjoy the tourney to its fullest. Tomorrows troubles can wait on today."

And with that the pair departed. Quacey had a story telling contest to oversee. One he was currently late attending. Perhaps not a great sign for the staff, but it offered more time to those looking to join. The good within the bad as life tended to be.

===========

The woman at the sign in desk had already forgotten everything about Nyxx by the time she had signed up. It was as if she wasn't even there in the first place.

When she arrived to the gathered crowd, a male fae with eerily similar body shape and face to the previous woman could be found. He was plumper and much more orderly in his appearance however. Directions were being given. Be respectful. Not too much swearing as children were present. No naming fae directly for far too many reasons. Don't go on for too long. Don't be too short.

The cheerfulness in his tone was a little overdone and held a high amount of anxious energy as he spoke. Nervous laughs constantly showing up where it was not needed.

And then it would all stop as a massive eclipse of moths flew towards the center of the stage from seemingly everywhere. They all merged together to form a mountainous fae.

=============

Quacey cast a spell to allow his voice to echo out to the crowd. "Silence brothers and sisters. Stories may yet be spun. Tales of tragedy. Tales of joy. Tales of humor. Tales of sorrow. Tales for your enjoyment that a boon may be won."

The crowd had died down as he spoke. When he finished, the unkempt fae woman ran up onto the stage. The list of participants was handed over to him. A smile, a nod, and a quiet thank you followed. A small, shaky smile was given back as she backed away then fled the stage.

Quacey looked at the first name and said in that magical boom, "Now offer thy ears and hold thy tongue. Sir Dirgus of the Sleeping Elm Parlor is first to weave us their tale."

The fae burst into numerous moths once more scattering off in every direction.

Up onto the stage a tall fae in glistening gilded armor strode. Waves. Winks. Kisses to the crowd. Then the fae began. A horridly boring tale of his adventures was given. One more akin to a lullaby than a ballad.

Ceilidh Trahan Nyxx

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

Some acts later...
*****

Nyxx stood off to the side of the stage, arms crossed and attention rapt on the current Fae, one who clearly upstaged Sir Dirgus, because this one actually had the crowd in a constant uproar of laughter.

She herself couldn't help an infectious smile every few minutes. But the intermittent feeling of those same eyes boring into the side of her face, had a scowl quickly finding its home again on her mouth. She refused to look at him again. Not because she found his visage to be disagreeable... but looking at him caused the shadows in her skin to purr and it fucking annoyed her. Her claws digging briefly into her upper arms at the irritation.

The roar of applause and hollering startled her. The male Fae on the stage had concluded his stand-up act and he had done wonderful. He left the stage to many compliments and handshakes and even lewd offers of bedding from all genders. A normal response for her kind.

If you weren't worth killing, marrying, or fucking, you weren't exactly interesting among the Duanaan.

It was when her name and title rang out that she started cursing venomously under her breath.

Nyxx, Fury of Nightmares of the Dawn Court.
Immediately wishing she had imbibed more of that honey wine before thinking she could take center stage.

A gentle shove from someone behind her, had her tensing and softly snarling in a rising panic as she took the first hesitant steps up to the stage.

Just do it. Don't think. Don't think. Don't worry. She got this. Right?!

***********
"Hello and wicked greetings to all who love a good story,' her eyes traveled across the audience, emitting a solemn and calm air. "I am as announced, a denizen of nightmares. But today, I do not wish to alarm or terrify. Today I wish to share with you a beautiful piece of humanity that so often escapes even our understanding. A reminder for what is precious and for some, what is yet to come."

With a deep inhale, Nyxx settled into the space inside her mind that the dark stories of dreaming men swam. It was an endless ocean. It was depthless and without horizon.

Dipping her hands in, she mimiced the motion with her actual body. And threw her hands up and above her, as if she cupped real water. From her hands spilled a swirling cloud of moving shadow high above her. The soft yawning sound of a void echoed from it. It spread and reached until any and all in the audience could see it clearly.

Copying Quacey, Nyxx used a spell to throw her voice out in a boom. So even her whispers would be heard.

"Throw your curious eyes upon this shadow, for here I will show you from my own memories, the very nightmare I recorded from a young girl."

Nyxx raised her hands, and as if weaving a tapestry in the air with her fingers, her story began to reflect on the shadowy cloud, her voice accompanying it in a reverent tone.

"There was a girl who found the end of Everything. A door in a dusty house beyond the cemetery where her mother was buried.

So she plucked a strand of Nothing, and brought it to the tailor.

When the tailor saw the Nothing, he quenched his lamp and hushed her.

'This is not for making,' He said. 'But unmaking.'

The girl thought of her mother, buried under earth and stone.

'I would like to unmake Death.' She said.

So the tailor worked the Nothing into a shroud, and the girl draped it over her mother’s grave.

In the morning, the girl opened the door. And in the doorway stood a figure in a black robe.

'I want my mother,' said the girl.

‘I know.' Said Death. 'Even I do not have the power to give you that. But your mother is not gone.'

Death pulled the shroud from a pocket in her robe.

'There is always a thread that binds, always a door that opens.'

Death handed the shroud to the girl.

'I won’t see you very soon,' said Death, and closed the door.

The girl wrapped herself tight in the shroud. It was weightless, and colourless, yet somehow warm. And for just a moment, it felt to her as if her mother was holding her, before the shroud unmade and turned to Nothing."

Nyxx's lyrical alto petered off into a soft hush at the end of her story. And with a flourish of her hands, her shadows fell and sank back into her flesh.

Leaving her to wait eagerly in the silence of the crowd.


Rohan Quacey

 

[Ophelia]

Ophelia took her time milling about the various food stalls, settling on some rather unappetizing fried meat-on-a-stick who's smell had distracted her from the reason she had even came to this event. Of course, right when she was content, his voice had ruined that for her. Booming over the crowds to alert them of the next event taking place.

Her eyes moved towards the stage where Quacey had suddenly burst into a flock of moths, following the last one to see where it would eventually end up. She would soon find herself moving towards where she had seen it fly off to. Now or never. She repeated in her head, over and over. If he was going to disturb her moment of peace, she would repay the favor.

Standing behind the large fae, she cleared her throat quietly. "May I speak to you in private Lord Quacey?"

Quacey

 

[Varos]

As he beheld the various competitions and celebrations, all Varos could think of, was the infernal headache that was creeping just behind his obsidian eyes. Beneath his dark robe, a black vulpine tail swished and swayed as he did his best to focus on something other than the annoying pain. Thankfully, there was enough distraction to keep him occupied with that which wasn't a paradox.

The second he had come to celebrate the twins, he had felt it. It was the clash of divinity, his own holiness rejecting the very idea that there might be a being older and more powerful than he. Of course, Varos himself was under no such delusions, but the beliefs of the Zorrens held they're sway on him, even when they weren't looking. He was the god of night, shadows, and secrets. A primordial being that existed when the world was new. At least, that's what their priests said.

As he swirled the glass of wine he had procured from one of the many stalls, Varos searched for his own entertainment. Perhaps one of the races would suit him well. Afterall, he was the patron god of scouts and spies among the Zorrens. While it might not have been a major part of his faith, he had listened to more thana few prayers for swift steeds and if his divinity gave him an edge, who was he to deny himself these gifts?

 

[Adrian Black]

Rohan did not realize that he had been staring until gold eyes met his and she snarled at him. There was a miniscule twitch at the corner of his lips as he watched her turn from him and return her attention to the stage.

She was the kind of fae that he enjoyed watching when he came to events like this. There was something dark behind her bright eyes and it intrigued him. It did not intrigue him enough to move from his seat though. That was a little too much.

The story tellers were boring as shit and he had already disappeared once to get another drink.

Nyxx, Fury of Nightmares of the Dawn Court.

He was about to leave the area completely to go wander when the woman who had bravely snarled at a Hound stepped onto the stage. Rohan set his mug down and fastened his attention on the Fury who commanded the attention of those gathered around the stage. Everything from her unique outfit to the shadowy cloud she conjured to show her story.

There was something about her.

Rohan found his hands come together with those around him to applaud her once she was done speaking. She was certainly an interesting one.

He shrugged and returned his attention to his drink.

---

Nyxx

 

[Quacey]

The fae moths waited as the first competitor come onto stage.... And did horribly. Why this fae chose to compete in a story telling competition over the duels and archery if his skills were even half as good as he claimed was a true shame. No one was buying a word of it and boredom was already beginning to spread.

Should he forcibly end the tale for the sake of the crowd?

No decision could be made as another familiar voice called out to him. Ophelia was here? She had run off months ago during her training and not sent him a single word as to why or where she was. So why approach him now and requesting a private meeting?

Quacey had a moth land on each of the helpers' shoulder and relay orders for them to take turns announcing the next competitors. Also he begged them by all the love of the Twins to "guide" Sir Dirgus off the stage as soon as possible. The list was willed back into existence and left with them.

Then the large fae reformed himself in front of Ophelia. He offered her an arm so he might escort her where they needed to be. A smile on his face. "For you Ophelia, any time you wish."

As he waited for her to accept or decline his arm, he studied her over. The dress was certainly her style. Black with flowers. But he caught sight of how she had more curves than the last time he saw her as well. He would have raised a brow, but it might draw unwanted attention to her and impact her reputation. He knew she was more aware and guarded of her's than he was of his own.

"You are as lovely as ever my Lady. Have you been well? Can I get you anything as we walk? A drink perhaps?"

He would guide her back to his private tent that held a comfortable seat and cot as well as a travel desk for the documents he had to keep track of. It was as simple and practical in design as his home was. A fact he was certain would bother her in some way. She seemed to enjoy more gaudy and glamorous decor.

===================

Nyxx's performance had gone over well. Most in the crowd seemed to enjoy it. A few were even deeply in thought as they thought over the hidden meanings buried within. The kids in the crowd all seemed confused as to what was going on and what the story was about. Their parents were a mix of telling them to shush, explaining it poorly, and just ignoring their younglings.

She was directed off the stage so that the next performer might take over. One that would need to work to top her own.

====================

A fae with a beautiful mare would walk past Varos as he sampled the tourney drinks. The rider moved with a limp from a clear injury to their leg. The fae even looked a little pale. A bad tumble off a horse followed by sickness. But they were determined to show off what their stead could do. Twas the biggest tourney in some time with competitions of all kinds! If this was not the best place to show off the strength of their stables then where was?

A few stalls away a brawl was beginning to break out as well. Two young squires already drunk from slacking in their duties. Guards were coming but may not arrive before a stall was wrecked and bystanders injured.

A choice as pursuing one left no time for the other.... Or perhaps not for the swift acting.

Ophelia Eärtári Nyxx Varos

 

[Elowen Praeda]

Nairth had changed his mind about coming to the tournament but he had not told Elowen about the new plans. Ever since Shaileigh had disappeared and she had become his Chamberlain, she was loathe to leave his side. No one knew what had taken Shaileigh away (or killed her if they wanted to face the facts) so that meant that she was going to make sure nothing got near Nairth that seemed deadly, cruel, or sneaky.

It was unfortunate that she could not protect him from the entirety of the fae.

Elowen arrived at the tournament grounds with ease. Like many of the woman here, she had decided to wear a dress. The light blue dress itself was simple in regards to what duanann usually could be found in but it was still intricate enough. She did not braid her long hair today so the brown curls bounced as she walked.

She found Nairth easily enough because she knew his presence like the back of her hand. They had been friends for millennia but her ability to track people was part of her life affinity. It made it very hard for him to hide from her which she was sure drove him slightly insane sometimes.

"Your Highness," Elowen sighed out as she came to stand next to her King and friend. "I thought we talked about you coming here alone..."

---

Nairth San'Seya

 

[Ophelia]

She froze as he reformed, offering an arm to guide her elsewhere. Her eyes made contact with the ground. "I apologize for my sudden leave. I had to return home before we could finish my training. I should have sent word that I was alright, I suppose."

She could feel his gaze linger on her a little too long. If she was lucky, he'd figure out for himself why she had come to the tournament before she had to tell him. His silence, however, led her to believe he had no suspicions. She let out the breath she had been holding and looked up.

"Thank you, Lord Quacey." She hesitated, but grabbed his arm after a moment. Allowing him to lead her away from the events. "I have had better days." She admitted before quickly declining his offer. "No, I'm quite alright. I still can't drink after..." She visibly shuddered at the memories of their night together. Although it wasn't entirely the reason she was abstaining from alcohol, it was still true. "The drinking games we played."

His quarters were just as Ophelia imagined them. Very Quacey, if she did say so herself. If the circumstances had been different, she would very likely be teasing him over how boring the tent was. If one was spending so much time preparing for an event like this, they could at least have some decorations. A rug! Anything would have been better than this. She was not impressed.

"Oh..." She looked down at the flowers she still held, letting go of Quacey's arm. "I...um...They were meant to be a gift. I swear they were living when I arrived." Her voice was quiet, cracking like she was about to cry. "I spent so much time growing them. I had Cas pick them and put them in a box. Fuck's sake...They were supposed to be alive I promise. I...promise."

Perhaps this was a sign that I should not have come.

Quacey

 

[Zeraphine Batahlia]

The moment that the applause washed over her, she felt the tension drop from her shoulders. It all happened in a blur and she couldn't be happier to be done. All she felt was relief.

Whether they liked it or not, wasn't the issue. It was more, there was a story inside of her that needed to be told and it wouldn't rest until she had shared it. IT wouldn't let her rest until she shared it. Some nightmares were like that.

As she left the stage, there were comments from the other performers, but she didn't hear them. Some even tried to shake her hand or grab her shoulder in what they thought was in camaraderie. But a brief flare of shadow around her person and a slicing glare stopped any further approaches. She didn't like being touched.

Nyxx had an agenda to see to as quickly as she could manage.
A predatory smile found its way onto her black mouth. The stirrings of mischief too tempting to ignore.

But first she would need a liquid offerring... Unfortunately, she didn't think blood would be the order of the day. For now.

*******

Nyxx placed down a tall mug of a dark red brew next to Rohan's elbow. She didn't sit down. Instead she walked around to his front and propped her hip against the table. Her arms crossed, with her own drink dangling casually from her black talons.

From this position she was able to look down at him. And down her nose, she took her time drinking in the masculine vision of him. He screamed smug arrogance and she hoped it was well earned. There was nothing worse than an empty threat. But somehow, his piercings and tattoos said otherwise.

Actually, now that she was closer, she realized he looked familiar. But she could quite place where she had seen him before and that bothered her.

After taking several moments to look her fill, she finally leveled a golden gaze at him. Quirking a dark eyebrow, she crooned a soft order. "Tell me why I was the only one you gave the honor of clapping for."

Rohan

 

[Adrian Black]

Rohan's eyes shifted over to the mug that was placed way too close to his person. There were lots of other seats on the grounds that would keep someone away from him. He was about to growl out that exact sentiment when he looked up and saw her. That woman. The Fury of Nightmares. The snarler.

He sat beck and crossed his muscled arms over his chest being careful to avoid her full drink. The shuck did not say anything as she was clearly busy checking out. A smug smirk crossed his lips as her gold eyes took him in completely.

"You were the only one who did not put me to sleep," he said as he uncrossed his arms and reached for his mug again.

He took a drink from his mug then step it back down, his eyes never leaving hers. The blue gray holding a hint of darkness behind their beautiful color.

"You should be careful who you snarl at, my lady. There are lots of fae who would rip out your heart for such a slight..." Rohan's own dark brown quirked as his smirk grew.

He was one of those fae but he liked to give beautiful women the benefit of the doubt.

---

Nyxx