closed starter for @lithikos | izara's chambers within the summer court.

the lesser fae had only known love a few times in her life, she could name they all on a single hand - barely made up all five of her digits, but there was something in the way that izara looks at her now that feels damn near close to it. eyes that bore into her very soul with a softness that iona has never known before, a hunger that feeds the flame within herself, and a hint of doubt. as if there was anywhere else iona longed to be, as if resting her head on izara's thigh did not feel akin to a man kneeling at an altar of the mother to beg for a miracle. as if this bond, this love, was not a miracle gifted onto iona for remaining a pious fae for all these years. iona's entire body shakes, not with fear or anxiety, but with the restraint she shows in not setting upon izara immediately in this moment and devouring her. 

the sheets cover most of their modesty, though in izara's private chambers there is little possibility of their mating being interrupted. mates, the foreign word still turns over in her head again and again, since azrael had gifted her the knowledge of what this attachment truly was. yet, mate did not feel enough for the feelings that beat in her ribcage, that demanded iona spill blood for izara, that she declare hear fealty to the other woman till her lungs gave out. it was an all encompassing fire that never once burnt her, but instead warmed her every night they were forced apart from one another. when iona had spent weeks in the war camps of illyria, whispering sweet nothings across a bond, to receive soft laughter and kisses back across it. it had been a blessing when her high had granted her this brief respite from the violence of training and prepartion, allowed to visit the summer court, to spend a week absoring in every breath of air that izara gave her. 

" you are divinely beautiful," iona whispered against her skin, admiring the way that izara remained eerily pretty despite the many hours they'd already spent strengthening the pull between them. the tether that the cauldron itself had bestowed upon. " i believe i could spend the rest of my days doing nothing but serving you," she pressed a kiss to the skin of izara's thigh, fingers dancing across her hips once more. searching for the noises that izara had already filled the room with once before. " if you'd let me." 

closed starter for @amarhis | a hallway or something in within the nightmare city. 

it was strange that now as adrius' second, cadogan somehow held more freedom than he ever did as simply another lord's only son - as if the day his father died was the day that cadogan was granted the ability to be born anew. it would've been far too addicting and ruined him if not for the responsibility he felt towards his pseudo brother. but still, cadogan dallied from the strict rules of duty and etiquette he'd grown up knowing so well, evident by the lady that he had pinned against the sharp stone of the wall. he wished to treat her gentler, to curl his own body around her smaller frame as if they were sweet lovers sharing breaths beneath sheets together. to take her under the cover of starlight where he may whisper words that compared her to the beauty of the night above them, till she was breathlessly giggling against his beard beneath a barrage of teasing kisses. 

yet, her eyes were lit with blatant desire at the way cadogan roughly kissed her and he is reminded for the thousandth time that amaris only knows this side of him. the harsh bear of a man that had stolen her gaze from her own betrothed, that had snuck her frozen flowers as if they were gifts worthy of her and not a mere child's toy that he'd bought from the shops. amaris desired not the soft bits of him, but the harsh edges that she believed was all that he was made up of, and cadogan could survive that. if it meant he was able to continue kissing her senseless. " careful, princess," he teased, a low whisper that he spoke into her ear before he grazed his teeth along the shell of her ear. " i might begin to believe that you've missed my presence something fierce." 

as if it was not cadogan who'd left their emissary behind to trail after amaris carefully; the way a wolf might've stalked a rabbit to eat for it's next meal. as if it was not him that had tugged her into the hidden alcove and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, hand brushing dangerously along her wings. as if it was not cadogan that had been desperate for her since he saw her appear like a visage beneath the mountain weeks ago. " are the fae here not enough to satisfy you?"

closed starter for @epithvts | day court , a random hallway. a few weeks after the incidents under the mountain. 

the letters were a constant as it seemed to be the only way to soothe the ache in her chest that longed for him. this was not the first time they've been spread across the continent from one another, they'd spent an entire decade with sparse words, yet now it was different. there laid an invisible tether between them as if neve had taken a piece of string and tied one to her ring finger then to his own, always pulled taut as she walked throughout the halls of a home that felt anew again. it'd been a fleeting thought, to return home with adrius, but the notion of leaving tyrian to face his cauldron made demons entirely alone or forcing maxon to take on a recovering court without any aid, was unimaginable. so neve had set her own desires aside, pressed a kiss full of promise to adrius' cheek, and watched him leave from her life for what she swore would be the last time. next time they met, she'd be by his side, if the mother allowed it. 

the servants had been gossiping as neve remained in the library studying, only able to hear fragments of the words they spoke. the fae struggled to piece together their broken conversation - visitor, who? she thought, focusing more on them than the large tome before her. high lord, azrael? no, tyrian had not mentioned any audience with his paramour. winter, just the word has neve reeling as if she gasping for air underwater. tome abandoned as she hastily rose from her seat, neve knew precisely where he would've entered from in their home, and she had an overwhelming urge to cut him off before he may see tyrian first. she wanted adrius to herself first.

soon enough, her feet are bringing around a corner, frozen in place when she spots him at the other end of the hallway. eyes drink him in as if he is the first drop of rain after a too long drought, no shame in the way they roam his body. even clothed, the way he looks at her in enough to cause a flush across her cheeks. before neve can worry about appearances or have a shred of doubt that he'd come here for her, she is running at him as if the tether between them is calling to her. a push off the balls of her feet is enough to propel her into his arms, legs wrap around his waist as if they'd done this a thousand times before. as if it was not the first time. " you came," she whispered, does not wait for a response before she is pressing a desperate, bruising kiss to his lips. hands rising to find purchase in his bone white curls. 

the letter is given to zora demirel during one of her visits to the summer court, it is shortly after deron had left velaris under the cover of night. a week or so post his departure. it is carefully, almost painstakingly, written on warm parchment paper. the paper is littered with cross outs and indecipherable words along the margins, as if he'd been in great thought while writing it for her. along with it is a tiny, leather pouch that contained two smooth palm sized stones that smell of river water and campfire. they are a cloudy amber color. / letter to @faebanes. ( zora demirel )

𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖘. 𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖑

it appears as though i shall be predisposed of for the forseeable future , therefore unable to attend to my duties and responsibilities regarding your establishment - nightshade. i fear i am uncertain when i shall return, so there shall be no promise of taking up said position once more. 

i wish i had not left , i regret not saying . i apologize for leaving while you slept, the thought of telling you farewell. it is my hope that sibusisiwe gifted you this letter with little fanfare and the small pouch i sent along as well. i found them in the rivers outside of the dawn court, i shan't say where precisely, but they reminded me greatly of your eyes you.

perhaps you may hold them when you find your shoulders heavy with burden. think of me holding you instead. i find that imagining you beside me does wonders for the uncertainty in my chest.

the current whispers to me at night that you remain well, safe, and protected. i shall choose to believe them till the next time you grace me with your words, zora. 

𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘,

𝖉. 𝖍𝖆𝖓

the letter arrived to deron han's velaris residence a few weeks after his departure, it is written on a piece of parchment that clearly had once been wet and then laid in the sun to dry. there is the slightest smudge of ink at the beginning, where it is is addressed to someone. it is dated as having been written a week previously. there is not discernible pressings to tell where it came from, aside from the large ' c ' it is marked with. it came with nothing attached to it. / letter to @epithvts ( cerys perceval )

𝖙𝖔 𝖈 -,

i fear that i cannot inform you about my whereabouts as you requested in your previous letter, nor will i be able to procur that volume of faerie smut literature you requested from the libraries within the autumn court. for several reasons, the most pressing concern being that it would inform you loosely of where i am traveling and once again. i cannot share that with you. not to mention my contact there looked at me as if i was incredibly foolish for even requesting that novel. please see the attached bags of tea as payment for failing this task.

is the mortal body you possess healing properly? i met recently, through an acquaintance of a friend of sorts, a mortal that was dipped into the cauldron. they say she's fae now. perhaps we ask our high lord to dip you into the cauldron?  she was beautiful in an eerie, near unnatural way. has your research revealed any others like her?

i must leave where i'm currently staying, continue forwarding your letters to the wraith. whichever one is up to you. take care of the house till i return, and do not forget to toss a flank of meat into the river behind our home once a week like i instructed. 

if needed, there is a dagger in the floorboards beneath your bed. it is yours to keep, i purchased it shortly after we returned from under the mountain. do not stab yourself with it. 

𝖉. 𝖍𝖆𝖓

“And wasn’t it sacred, the sweetness we licked from each other’s hands? And were we not lovely, then, were we not as lovely as thunder, and damp grass, and flame?”

— Cecilia Woloch, from “Anniversary,” in Narcissus (Tupelo Press, 2008)

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .   the  continent  welcomes  cadogan yilmaz  of  the mountains,  the  second in command of the winter court.   when  the  high fae  is  glamoured,  he   bear(s)  a  resemblance  to  deniz  can  aktaş.   the  31  /  577  year  old  cis male  is  reputed  to  be  boisterous  and  courageous,  but  a  decade  of  war  has  left  them  altruistic  and  intense.   if  created  by  the  cauldron,  they  would  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  sisyphus conquering the hill under blistering sun; thunderous laughter echoing through halls ; wolfish grin that feels like home.    whispers  throughout  prythian  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  the winter court   where  they  conspire  to  rebuild the winter court and strengthen intercourt bonds again .

BASICS .

full  name.  cadogan yilmaz. age.  thirty one.  / five hundred and seventy seven years old. hometown.  born in the deep mountainous woods of the winter court. current  location.  under  the  mountain . status.  unmated. orientation.  bisexual, heterocurious. biromantic. siblings.  an older sister and a younger sister *wcs. languages  spoken.  the  common  tongue . allegiance.  the winter court. 

APPEARANCE .

hair  color.  brown . eye  color.  dark brown height. 6'4 | 193 cm . scars.  a small scar above his heart. style.   dark colors that are closely tailored to fit his body. tight and sexy. accents of deep blues and greys within the materials. pearl cuff links. occasionally a new style that their new seamstress wishes to try out. 

MISCELLANEOUS .

alignment.  chaotic good . strengths.  altruistic. progressive. devoted. weaknesses.  self sacrificing. empathetic to a fault. at times insecure / guilty of feeling undeserving. aesthetic. sisyphus conquering the hill under blistering sun, breaking the chains to rise anew, wolfish grin that screams predator and home alike, thunderous laughter echoing in halls.  song  inspiration.  water under the bridge ( adele ), problems ( mother mother ), the fruits ( paris paloma ), second child, oh restless child ( the oh hellos ). 

BIOGRAPHY ( tw mention of parental neglect, child abuse, death, violence ) 

cadogan is born with the first fall of snow, hollering loud enough to make the windows rattle. or at least that's the story that his father would tell him when he was still small enough to rest on his lap, a curious boy who would stretch to tug on his father's beard when the fae fell asleep mid story. the days felt short, spent constantly tugging his sisters around in their wooden sleigh as punishment for pelting them with snowballs each morning, and the nights were often his favorite. tucked into his father's side as he told them stories, till his chalice ran dry once more and the kids were asleep. 

this peaceful existence was brief for when cadogan was on the cusp of boyhood the letter requesting his father's presence by their high lord's side arrived. and their entire family left everything behind faster than cadogan could even blink, ushered into a large estate that spoke of the opulence of a high lord's advisor. days began passing where cadogan never even saw his own father, barely his sisters, as he was bombarded with tutors and lessons of how to act appropriately as the lord's only son. their home began to grow cold, as if a window had been left cracked, with each passing year. father twisted into a beast that no longer resembled the man who once held him after a nightmare, instead a cruel enforcer who did not hesitate to leave the imprint of his ring on cadogan's cheek when he dared to talk back to his father. 

sanctuary comes with the friendship that blooms with the kin of the high lord who corrupted his father, as if they were two lost spirits finding each other once more. and it is all too easy for cadogan to shift into the role of protector, to not hesitate to beat the ones that dare to test the all to gentle soul that he called brother. the honor of being the heir's friend is the only thing that spares cadogan from his own father's wrath once word travels down of the fights his son has won throughout court.

cadogan grows into a man with whispers that follow him - ruthless, cruel, depraved bastard . he pays them no mind, for the few people who matter to him know the truth. that he waits to watch the sunset every evening, hums under his breath the songs that his mother use to sing to her children, and never hesitates to wish on omens of good luck and fortune. that cadogan fights to remain soft behind closed doors, despite the tyranny and cruelty that war brings. when the choice comes to choose between the shell of his father or the family he'd been entrusted with, their court and their people, cadogan does not hesitate to accept. stands beside his new high lord as he lays waste to the cruel reign that came before them, gaze steady as the monster who'd haunted the halls of his home passed. 

summary: cadogan is a high fae who was the son of the former high lord's advisor, now currently the second in command of the winter court ( as of the war ending ). he's the equivalent of a big mean bear basically to everyone that is not directly in the wc inner circle, or a select few others, but in reality cadogan is soft as hell. he's got a huge heart with an awful kind streak, but has taken on this sort of protector shield image to help support adrius and their court. knows their high lord too is gentle at times, so he steps in to protect him. protect their court from wrong doers. he's got a soft spot for mortals & a deep rivalry with adrius' cat. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS ( bare bones, sun head empty now ) 

a tragic ex lover, flings, friends, enemies - all and anything. this is so informal right now because i still feel less than 100%.

deniz can aktas menajerimi ara 32

oops! tripped and fell and started craving romance

closed starter for @faebanes ! | set after all the nonsense deron goes through during the fight.

the dust had seemingly began to settle, or maybe that was just the fog that settled over deron's brain to disguise the pain that was blossoming across his chest. unsteady feet carried him, more stumbled, without him even having to think about it. as if his body refused to rest until he had returned home once more. there'd been a concerned look in the guards that came to their rescue, but he'd brushed them off - knew that their attention was better spent on caring for sibusisiwe. that the fae mattered more in the moment than deron ever would. handed her off to them and shambled up like a shaky skeleton walking a death march. pressed a reassuring, promising kiss to her forehead that he'd return this time. most likely.

     how many times had deron promised that to someone? enough times that he'd never swear it, less the cauldron or mother tear him apart over it - again and again. 

  deron hadn't dared to shout the words to zora when the violence tore them apart, as if his soul knew that voicing them would bind the pair together. tainted her beautiful soul with lies that she'd carry until the day he actually drifted away into the wind. or worse, forge a pact that neither of them could take back once it'd set into the air of the universe.  yet even without the oath, the promise, the old magic bind, his feet still carry him in her direction. they use any energy that remains within his exhausted, torn body to make certain that deron returns to her. to fulfill the unspoken vow that he cannot remember making, but knows will haunt him no matter where he may stray on the continent. like the ocean returning to kiss the shoreline. 

   she appears suddenly, as if the cauldron heard the devotions he was whispering and answered the prayer. her eyes landed on him, the bloody mess of a being that deron feels, and he cannot help the way his mouth forms a smile. the pain matters so little now, lurching forward till he is falling into her arms, chin hanging over her shoulder. " zora," he breathed, trembling arms weakly raise to embrace her. " i found you."

Gong Yoo for Discovery Expedition Summer 2021 (or as I call this photoshoot, the adult version of Tsurikichi Sanpei♥️♥️)

   for half a beat, deron can almost imagine that he's carrying a far too drunk cerys home from the nightshade. that zora snaps back with sharp teeth in light reprimand for allowing the mortal to consume so much other worldly elixir, that her mannerisms are a gift from a pleasurable night with friends and not the frightening amount of blood loss or adrenaline slowly leaving her body. but the sound of screams and violence haunt too heavily to allow him this daydream.         " when we get to safety you're staying with her, zora." the tone reeks of command, no room within it for zora to question or challenge it. as if a piece of him was settled alone by the idea that she would remain safe, that she would protect the little family they possessed. that they had formed together. " the webbing is not that profound, cer. and when we get back home, i'm teaching you how to hold one." out of the corner of his eyes deron caught the way cerys' head began to hang heavier to the side, shifted his grip on her so that instead her head was pressed tighter against his chest. certain his heartbeat must echo loudly in her mortal ears. hoped that it brought her comfort in this moment. he snorted, though his eyes do not leave zora's form in front of him. drinks in the heavenly sight of zora carving them a path. wielding blade as if she is the current itself, mimicking the curves and bends of the river. divinely beautiful in this moment. " i wish," he mutters under his breath, for only cerys to hear. " if you are requesting fae mate with you instead of saying sex, i am beginning to understand why you return home alone so often."

she'd   always   known   there   was   magic   in   the   life   around   her .   in   the   way   that   shadows   seemed   to   emerge   so   effortlessly   from   zora ,   or   the   way   she'd   heard   rumors   of   azrael's   misting   abilities .   but   she   thinks   ─      as   zora's   fingers   graze   her   battered   skin   ─      perhaps   this   was   the   real   magic .   how   her   family   had   sought   her   out ,   even   through   the   chaos   of   it   all .   oh ,   how   she'd   wished   for   this   same   rescue   so   long   ago ,   as   the   phantom   that   had   once   haunted   her   mortal   estate ,   a   slave   of   a   wife   to   an   unkind   man .   feels   hysterical   at   the   memory ,   at   the   dream   she'd   held   so   tightly   to   her   chest ,   blossoming   into   reality .            ❛   you're   wielding   a   sword ,   der         [   ...   ]         ❜         cerys   muses ,   absently ,   raising   her   arms   to   allow   him   a   better   hold   on   her   frail   form .   her   own   wail   of   pain   reflects   the   cacophony   that   surrounded   them ,   an   orchestra   of   anguish   and   death .   but   she   can   hardly   keep   track ,   not   with   the   way   her   head   sways   with   vertigo .         ❛   how   can   you   wield   a   blade   with ,   ❜         in   her   delirious   stupor ,   she   brings   her   hands   up ,   motioning   to   the   space   between   her   fingers   that   lacked   the   webs   deron   held   between   his .   her   head   lulls   to   the   side ,   growing   heavier   with   each   moment ,   even   as   jaded   cerulean   gaze   stretches   to   zora's   magnificent   physique   who   carved   through   their   enemies   with   skilled   perfection .         ❛   have   you   two   ever   entertained   the   idea   of   mating   with   one   another   ?   ❜         wasn't   sure   how   that   act   worked   here ,   only   aware   of   the   terminology .

having been raised with the attitude of a lady of court, neve has the audacity to make an offended noise at the quip that leander returns to her. all sense of haughty returned at the sight of the winter court lord, the exhaustion briefly forgotten as she stumbled slightly from his push, glare heavy in her gaze. " your brother is not my keeper, leander. i am not some animal to pass between two empty headed males, kindly take your grizzled heroics elsewhere. quite capable of handling myself," she replies, out of breath as they move towards the wall. her words may be picking slowly at leander, but her body knows instinctively to follow after the other fae. that she cannot keep up this battle entirely by herself without placing herself into further danger. 

the tether within her still feels tight, as if neve can almost feel the other half fighting on the opposite end of it. can feel adrius fighting on it. her mind shakes off the thought, has no desire to acknowledge the confusing and complicated feelings that this new development brought up. that their kiss only a few nights ago brought forward. her fingers dart forward to grab a piece of leander's tunic, so that she doesn't lose him in the thicket of all this fighting. " i thought you might be happier about all of this, lee. sort of your . . . thing, is it not? bloodshed and violence." the fae quips, cannot resist teasing the other despite the danger that they lie within. 

Chaos is woven into the very fabric of Leander’s being – it’s in his blood, inextricably part of him. But even the Winter Court General is caught off guard by the sudden violence that errupts as the mortal queen’s life spills out of her. It’s only for a moment, though, and then his sword is drawn and he becomes something else entirely, ever the berserker as he sheds the vestiges of his court persona. As all manner of monster and beast descend upon the courts and as Dawn’s soldiers turn on them all, he becomes a lion ripping its prey to shreds. He feels the absence of his magic but there’s little time to dwell on it as he brings his sword down in a furious arc, slicing through monster and dark fae alike. Magic or not, his movements are still that of a warrior, practiced and vicious without hesitation as each new foe presents itself.

Lee’s heart is pounding with adrenaline, blood rushing past his ears in a thunderous cacophony of violence and wrath. He executes without mercy, a blur cutting down any threat to him and his court. It’s the very reason he finds himself moving through a sea of dark fae, blood covering his face as he surges towards Neve. He ignores the fact that it’s Neve, and focuses instead on his brother’s revelation that she’s his mate. The moment Adrius makes it clear, Leander’s priorities shift. He’s caught between wanting to fight by his brother’s side, and upholding the oath he took when he became his brother’s general. Your mate and your children will never know pain or come to harm under my watch.

Neve’s words, then, hardly matter as he keeps his sword upright, ignoring the blood that drips down onto the hilt. The calluses of his hands allow him to keep a firm grip regardless. “I do actually but, don’t worry, I plan on collecting later.” He gives her a sardonic smile before pushing her out of the way as another of the Dawn Court’s soldiers moves towards them. Lee dispatches the peregyn and turns back to his brother’s mate. “I’ve other orders. We need to get you out of here.” Here. The center of the chaos where the sound of metal clanging against metal resounds and screams and shouts of violence only grow. “So let’s go. Now’s not the time for a leisurely stroll,”  he says,  unable to resist nettling her, even now, as he moves them towards a wall, something to keep their backs against. Already, he’s mapping out the best way back to Adrius, knowing that Neve will be safest by her mate’s side.

the sound that comes from izara's lips , that gasp , is all it takes for the voices to momentarily vanish. an eerily silent world , despite the clash of metal on metal surrounding them , save for the other's voice. it is the sensation of feeling complete within this momen t, a piece sliding into place that one was never aware they were missing , piercing clarity that feels as if it may drown her if she cannot pull herself back from it - till their sides touch. the waves within her being settle as if izara has reached a hand and roughly pulled her from the cruelty of sea. rib meets rib , breathing near synchorized.  head nods . knows that izara is correct, even with their training they will certainly fall victim to the overwhelming press of the onslaught here. that the chance of rescue reaching them was higher closer to the centre. 

" let me clear the path," she requests , allow me to risk mine for yours , and prepares herself to slay the assailant who'd dared to believe himself superior to the fae slotted against her side. izara drops to a knee and gives iona enough of a distraction for her to swing the blade into his neck. near severs his head with a ghastly spray of blood that coats iona , but she cared little within that moment. body slams into the floor unmoving once more. her eyes are far too focused on the sight of izara raising to her full height , knows that it should feel wrong but her heart beats faster at the sight of her. etheral beauty amplified by the blood flecked across her dark cheeks. it is a testament to the endurance and strong will that her father has taught her , that iona does not give into the primal urge that demands she fall to her knees before this woman. to pledge herself to izara. devout follower promising themselves to a benevolent god. i am yours. her treachourous mind whispers into the void between them. image flashes across her mind of kissing the other senseless in this moment. but there is no time. 

the fates do not pause the fighting around them and iona can sense their bubble will soon burst if they do not press forward. she tore her gaze away from the other , instinct pushed her in a direction that would allow them an easier path to the centre. where she could catch glimpses of others like them fighting. there was safety in numbers. " there is an opening ahead," she spoke , darting to press forward. hand reaches backward , catches the empty right hand of izara's and refuses to let it go. instead , the fae readjusts her own grip on the heavy steel , an echo of the lessons koray had drilled into her repeatedly. as if the feel of her other half's hand entwined with her own grants her the strength to wield it as she has never dared before. as if their union in this moment is a boon granted by the cauldron. 

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻  𝗵𝗲𝗿  𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱  pitches  into  dissolution,  the  scream  that  thrashes  for  release  at  her  lips  is  leashed  as  soon  as  it  materialises.  something  far  more  primal  is  baying  to  be  heard   :   she  is  a  girl  again,  kneeling  grooves  into  the  porcelain  adriatan  strand  and  tucking  her  hands  into  sea  foam   ——   laughter,  light  as  chiffon  and  silvery  as  the  sighing  of  harp  strings,  peals  into  the  air.  she  is  rising  to  her  feet  and  wading  into  high  tide,  thrusting  herself  forward  until  she  is  waist-deep  in  the  fold  of  a  churning  wave.  as  she  makes  to  dig  her  heels  into  the  sand,  a  shark-white  billow  lunges  and  shoves  her  onto  her  back    ;    ankle  twisting  grotesquely,  she  is  pulled  under,  and  for  many  uncountable  heartbeats  there  is  nothing  but  the  roar  of  silence.

the  same  undertow  breaks  its  back  on  her  shore  now,  binding  her  feet  and  wrangling  her  prone  form  into  the  heart  of  the  mayhem.  sibusisiwe’s  touch  stains  her  cheeks  in  the  stead  of  tears  that  have  not  been  permitted  to  fall   ——   izara  will  not  allow  herself  to  succumb  to  that  sightless  death  again   ;   will  never  be  engulfed  by  the  wellspring  of  her  own  power.  she  is  spurred  through  the  throng  on  fawn’s  legs,  quivering  like  a  too-taut  bowstring  and  buffeted  by  nothing  other  than  abject  terror.    yet,  yet,  yet,    there  is  a  faint  trilling  in  her  ears  that  hushes  even  the  shrieking  of  steel  rending  flesh,  and  the  gentlest  of  tugs  on  her  navel  that  quells  even  the  frenzied  heaving  of  her  chest.  it  is  to  the  other  end  of  that  tether  which  she  goes,  enchanted,  lulled  so  wholly  by  its  comfort  that  she  forgets  herself,  forgets  the  treachery  of  her  position   ——   until  the  whistling  blade  of  a  dagger  clips  the  shell  of  her  ear  and  she  is  reeling  back  into  catastrophe.

blood  is  singing  on  the  skin  where  dull  iron  met  its  mark.  izara  staggers  into  a  crouch,  then,  as  a  white-winged  fiend  rounds  unto  her.  his  eyes  are  the  hue  of  curdled  milk,  glazed  and  translucent  in  a  way  that  obscures  the  irises   ;   the  slack  line  of  his  crimson-wet  maw  warps  into  a  leer  as  he  stalks  forth,  convulsing  with  ire.  curling  into  herself,  she  feels  bird-bone  thin  again,  marooned  in  the  undercurrent  with  neither  anchor  nor  lighthouse  in  sight  from  where  she  cowers  on  the  prow  of  a  floundering  vessel.  when  his  sword  is  hefted,  its  gleam  is  as  savagely  dark  as  the  hull  of  a  warship,  and  she  shudders  with  a  whimper  that  will  never  grow  into  a  cry.

but  the  axe  does  not  fall   :   her  keeper  arrives  fleet-footed  and  celestial,  sundering  space  to  parry  the  mortal  blow.  iona.  like  the  parting  of  storm-addled  clouds  to  reveal  the  first  scintilla  of  light  after  a  thousand-year  downpour,  iona  wreaths  herself  into  view  and  suddenly,  suddenly  the  world  is  aflush  with  colour  again.  the  breath  that  took  flight  from  izara’s  lungs  returns  in  a  strangled  gasp   ;   her  limbs,  once  deadened  with  fear,  thrum  with  renewed  vigour  and  loosen  as  if  thawed.  pushing  to  her  feet  in  a  swift  motion,  izara  sweeps  up  the  dagger  with  unshaking  fingers,  slots  herself  into  iona’s  side   ——   rib  to  rib,  as  if  they  were  always  made  to  be  phrased  as  halves   ——   and  nods,  firmly.   ‘   we’ll  make  for  the  centre   ——   there  are  too  many  recesses  here  that,  if  backed  into,  will  swallow  us.   ’   she  does  not  quail  as  their  assailant  careens  forth  again,  but  drops  nimbly  to  a  knee  and  slits  his  thigh,  opening  a  bone-deep  gash  that  severs  a  tendon  and  incapacitates  the  leg.  as  we  practiced.

the fae would never speak it out loud yet perhaps taking off from her more skilled brothers in the middle of a battle was not the most intelligent decision she had ever made. neve was not a complete novice with the sword gripped in her hands, but her specialty had always been the magic that wrapped between her fingers - the spells she could whisper on a breeze to protect herself and those she loved. a glimpse of dark hair is enough to spur her forward after it, movement quick as she chased through the carnage after it. 

" dominic! " her voice shouted, head whipping around looking for any sight of the general once more. nearly jumps out of her own skin at the call of her own voice. body turned to face the smaller girl she recognized, relief flooding her expression for a beat. " aelin, you're all alone?" grip slackens slightly on the hilt, blade dropping to point towards the floor. eyes take note of the two knives still pointed at her, not daring to take another step towards the other. " i've yet to see them - but i can help you get to them, it's too dangerous for you to be by yourself." pointedly ignored that neve echoed the same sentiment maxon had given her before they were split apart. " please stop directing those at me, aelin."

location: under the mountain, aelin hiding in a room status: closed ( @dcybrck ) time: sometime after aelin breaks away from hayal and sisi

Aelin was now with two knives. Which she found a little hilarious, considering that two weeks ago, she could barely stand the sight of them. She had to find her brothers but she didn't think they'd even want to see her. They were probably so busy and fighting for their own survival. They didn't need to worry about her too but she was terrified.

She ducked quickly behind the desk before she heard a familiar voice. "Neve!" she shot up from her hiding place, her weapons gripped tightly. Her hair was a mess and her dress had ripped, she did not look like a lady. "I can't find anyone from winter! Have you seen Adrius? What of my brothers?" She asked, raising her brows, taking a step closer. She was unaware she had the knives pointed directly at the other fae.