Wadecalhoun​:

wadecalhoun​:

-

          The other hunters are hellbent on this blinding and senseless violence, The Eye comes across many who are meant to act under crucial orders but some seem improperly vetted by association. When their first overseer had been claimed to walk this earth as a ghoul, proper clearances had perhaps fallen to the wayside; Wade had never known The Eye to be desperate enough to snag up whoever desired to be apart of their ruthless ranks. Wade flinches as the knife meets flesh and there’s this inherent gasp and curdling scream that follows, an inevitable that carries so much agony and betrayal. It seeps into the core of his heart, blackens it a little further, almost promises him that place in the Inferno that the abomination had wagged in front of him when it had given him it’s blessing to let him suffer earth side.

He sees the proverbial flames lick around the forest, feels the heat on his neck, when really he’s sweating at the reminder of how out of control it had all become in an almost instantaneous bout of corruption. He cares little for the faith of these heedless hunters but his heart is torn in two places; to listen to Robin’s final omen or stick around to hold weight on the wound, to be consumed by the protectors of the forest, torn apart by lycans. It’d surely be considered the better fate, to meet his own quietus, than to force himself to endure what he’d just done; the agonizing weight of it all.

Wade is simply frozen, pathetically so, stumbling backwards, back towards the fog he had been granted passage to enter through. This was meant to be an innocent recon but it had stumbled into something unforgivable. The rusted scent of blood has since pricked the air and his jaw clenches as though to contain his own sickness at the reminder that it was her blood. Even with his distinct act of accomplished betray, betrayal by pathetic indifference, Robin offers him safe passage home away from the fate that the true harbingers of senseless violence would inevitably discover.

An apology is pricked in saddened irises, but it dies on his lips, it always would as he slips away into the fog back away to the sanctity of Rome and the gelid environment of The Eye’s headquarters. Wade will never be forgiven, he understands this as he recalls the insurmountable grief that struck Robin’s countenance, is anguished under the reminder of the iron blade jutting out of her frame. He would never forgive himself anyhow.

...

When he stumbles, seemingly collapses unto herself and leaves it doesn’t surprise her, but it does shatter what is left of the faith she held for her once-favorite hunter. It is such a small thing that does it, the way he hesitates, the way he almost reaches back, the way he almost seems sorry — But despite it all, despite the hesitation, despite the countless times she had saved him, he leaves. He heeds her warning and weights his life against hers, and decides his is worth more, every time. Faith is such a funny sentiment, capable of withstanding the worst of storms and shattering at a single look. Robin had believed in Wade, had believed that he saw her as more than the means to an end, more than a convenient relationship to use and then discard.

She had believed them friends, had given him the gift of her friendship and loyalty when she rarely bestowed it to any human, and he had repaid her with the same sort of fire and brimstone the demon he so fears had offered him. It would be ironic if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

“With friends like these, who needs enemies,” she mumbles, coughs out through the pain, blood staining the back of her teeth as she looks at the hunters that had remained and smiles like a predator, for what are they but New Rome’s guardian’s prey? She feels them coming as she levels a look at the hunters before her, knows that their judgment day is closer than they would like and the mean-spirited part of her relishes at this information. There might be a sense of unique understanding and empathy for humanity that Robin holds on her chest, but she is not less of a fey because of it. They are a fickle capricious sort, her people, and she has never been shy about her determination to see the Eye burn. Wade has confirmed her suspicions, and she has granted him one last kindness.

Next time, the one bleeding for his mistakes will be him.

She has no need to retaliate against the hunters that remain, though, not when she only has to look to the side to see a changeling emerging from the fog to deliver their fate to them. Instead, she focuses on her song to slow down the blood flow enough to stand up and hobble deeper into the forest. The blade had been iron and properly cured, not impossible to heal but something she would feel much more confident healing with someone else present. Carefully, she limps away from the clearing where the curtain of her friendship with Wade had fallen, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and hoping that she will find someone to join her in a healing song sooner rather than later.

conquestofuriel​:

Time: after midday Location: Probably some empty cafe near the entrance of the Faerie Forest Characters: @thegoodfellow​ & @conquestofuriel​​

The Autumn Chancellor had been a very useful resource, her devotion to her people and her desire to work to achieve their preparedness and protection was akin to Uriel’s desire to put this all danger at an end. Eventually he’d been able to learn that she was instrumental in the fey’s knowledge of The Eye. It had been his luck to get her attention a few weeks past, but now there was more to be discussed.

“Michael’s connections to the Senate and his knowledge and understanding of the people of this city is very fortunate,” he continued after explaining the deal his older brother had brokered with The Senate and The Eye. “I don’t believe your intervention with The Eye will be necessary for some time, Robin… as long as my brethren regain our full strength.” He paused. “Are you aware of what the Senate decided?” He couldn’t imagine that the royal family or nobility didn’t have some insiders into what the Senate was doing, even Robin likely counted among them with her eyes in the human organization.

...

There is a distinction between war and conquest, and Robin had taken that distinction to heart once she had learned of it. It had been said distinction that had driven her to make contact with the blessed that was fucking Logon of the Summer Court, despite the instinctive disgust that rose at the thought. Fen’harel might have been a traitor but they had been a member of her court, and yet the blessed had chosen to brush aside their laws for his own pleasure and satisfaction. It is rather bothersome to work with such a senseless individual, but a must is a must. Better to have the blessed at their side than against them.

“To deal with Pythia? Perhaps, but sooner or later the Eye will turn their back on whatever deal he has made,” Robin informs him mildly as she sips from the drink she had acquired from within the closed cafe. “I sorely hope you are right, Uriel, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. They might have released people here in Rome, but there are hundreds of bases all across the world. They might have made peace here, but that doesn’t mean they have stopped,” she says, although she does not think the blessed will care all that much about that particular detail. “I am aware that they are to work together against Asphodel, yes. Why do you ask?”

who? @alekgray

where? the boundary between the King’s Forest and New Rome

“I kept an eye out during Mercuralia, but they are truly getting awfully bold now that the Senate has allied with them,” Robin mentions idly as she steps out of the woods and closer to Alek, a disgruntled look on her face even as she nods politely to the Alpha. They are here to talk business, after all, and she is not Zahrya. It is amusing to see him petting the Lycans, almost tempting to do the same at times, but there is a time and a place for everything, and she doubts Alek would be as enthused with her petting as he is with Zahrya’s. Their bond is rather different to her connection with the Alpha, after all. “Most of that technology was new too.”

I miss the Weird Sisters but they're thriving individually

"Exactly as in William Shakespeare," Robin says in delight at Lain's reaction. It is a true pleasure to be able to lord this bit of information over the head of someone who does not know about it. Assan is well aware of her outings, and most within the courts at least suspect of her mischief regarding that particular British copy. "You have heard of the most charming Puck, also known as Robin Goodfellow, have you not?" She asks with a smirk as she returns the kiss with an equal enthusiasm, delighted by Lain's initiative. "Me, indeed, in whatever way you desire. Your performance was rather wondrous, after all, and you surely deserve to be rewarded as you please."

He was still coming down from the high that came with live performances, red wine still dripping down his body from where Lucas had forced him to down a whole glass on stage, resulting in the death of Claudius. Lain had a huge smile on his face as Robin took him by necklace he was wearing and led him away from view.  Her kiss grounded him, the feeling that he was currently floating outside his own body fading away. “William?  As in the William Shakespeare?” Lain asked incredulously before chuckling, “I always assumed he was actually a bunch of people all writing under the same pen name.”  He leaned in to kiss her again, full of enthusiasm and lacking the self-doubting hesitation that usually proceeded his touches. “So what’s my reward? Is it you?” 

wadecalhoun​:

          He flinches as Robin tosses the shield atop of them, Wade had expected her vehemence to triumph over all and confusion for what they’re currently enduring, to the way she still came forth to protect him, settles over the Archer as they drift into blackness. He’s unsure of how long he’d been out and Wade snaps to attention, the rustling of trees and the chittering of creatures has Wade standing, or rather scrambling to attention. Robin’s not far off and he half-jumps over to her, kneeling beside her as he unsheathes a knife. It’s poised to strike in his hand, yet his other hand hovers over the autumn fey, frowning down at her with a litany of thoughts and extempore he’d never say aloud. There’d be time to grieve the new chasm between them, but now was not such time for he could have sworn the ground beneath her was swirling, haunted by his own imagination. This place gave him the damned creeps and though his eyes peered around the cavernous depths of the woods, he’s shaking her awake in tandem, a hushed whisper escaping him, “Robin?.. Robin,” more emphasis as he attempted to rouse her, “Where the hell did you take us?” He’s a mere human, he can’t actually sense magic, but everything that revolved around him felt pretty damned fey-like to him, begrudgingly so as his eyes peered past the littering of bodies that surrounded them, listless and still.

...

Awakening comes with Wade’s voice and his shaking, and it takes her a long second to rouse through the sluggishness she feels. Her magic is oddly settled against her skin, an uncomfortable feeling that she has to asses at once, but first, she flickers her eyes open to find Wade above her with a knife on hand. A droll look is sent his way as his words register, and she brushes his hand away as she straightens into a sitting position, not bothering to dignify him with words as she glances around with a level eye. The scenario is familiar for years spent exploring the boundaries near the courts, the Otherworld stands before them but it does not feel right. Not when there is an ominous sentiment settling over her chest as she looks around. Finally, she deigns to look at Wade as she stands up and brushes off any dust that had gotten on her clothes. She does so by hand first, and then attempts to gather a gust of wind, but the air around them is filled with twinkling flames instead. A swift curse leaves her as she cuts her magic.

“I did nothing but throw shields in an attempt to protect us,” she explains him calmly as she looks around. “And if I venture a guess, I would say we are somewhere that looks like the Otherworld, but not quite, as something is interfering with my magic.”

wardercloud​:

Drinking. That had been their safe haven for as long as it had been since Theneras was lost to them. They couldn’t find it in themself to do anything else. If Cloud chose to let all of those emotions funnel through, then the floodgates would open and it would be more than just that leaving their system. The summer fey had been nursing a bottle of…something to their chest when they heard Robin’s voice. They had been standing there watching the way things moved around them. There was a sword of flames within their hand that they had not put away. Cloud had always been on the defensive. They had always been in a state of readiness their entire life. It was there more now than ever before. Even as the fall chancellor came upon them, they almost held it out towards her, but they resisted the urge. “I’m fine.” That was what they kept telling themself. They were fine. It had become so ingrained in their head that even saying it was not a lie. Anyone could tell that it wasn’t the case, but they could believe Cloud’s words. “I haven’t had it worse than anyone else. I won’t make this about me.” Their eyes hadn’t met hers yet until they stopped speaking. Even seeing her face caused them to drink from the bottle in their grasp.

...

“Ah, shit,” she sighs, allowing herself to fall down to the ground, crossing her legs and patting the sand next to her in an invitation to sit down. Cloud wasn’t lying, they could not lie, and yet, there is no denying that everything is not as it appears. With a hum, she summons a bottle of feywine from her own reserves and opens the cork, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a long sip, trying to think on how to approach the conversation. Perhaps it’s true, that Cloud hasn’t had it worse than anyone else, but emotions won’t care about that. Not when their wardee had done as much as Theneras had did and they had lost them, not when their duty had been to protect Theneras and they had failed, in the worst way imaginable. “And if I ask you to? You are my friend and I want to hear how you have been coping, if you want to talk,” she admits quietly. “And if not, can I keep you company? I am anything but fine, and I could use it.”

assanx​:

-

Food was always the way to his heart, so Robin was right to suggest it to him. It was incentive enough for Assan to continue attending, that and he liked fantasy and roleplay. It was absolutely not reason for him to organize any of the gatherings though, Assan would leave that to the professional people gatherers. He felt fortunate that Robin never seemed to have much of a problem understanding him, perhaps that was owed in part to her clairvoyance. That seemed to be a trademark among some of the fey. As carefree as Assan came across, it wasn’t all sushi rolls and smiles. Everyone had their struggles, everyone had their conflicts. “Salmon,” came the easy response as if to say that she didn’t need to worry about him. 

...

“The gods are turning their eyes to this realm, Assan. Worry is not something I can let go lightly,” she reminds her with a sigh. Problems kept pilling up like an abnormally dangerous Jenga tower and pretending that they are not is not something that she is capable of doing. Not when it is clear that the smallest of nudges might bring the entire tower crashing down in a tragic manner. Robin can’t help everyone, can’t protect them all, but she has to try to protect those she cares about. Has to try and protect her court too, before everything else. But if she can, she will protect her best friend too, as best as she can. “But do not take as me not trusting you, I know you can take care of yourself. I just. Well, with everything I cannot help the worry.”

zahryaofspring​:

✿*ﾟ ‘ﾟ･

Serenity. Relaxation. Oddly enough, these concepts have been reinvigorated in Zahrya’s mind, though entirely removed from his physical body. Ironically in the last weeks, he’s felt most at peace when he wasn’t attached to his body. Letting his spirit roam and merge with changelings as he currently is has been quite liberating for the Chancellor. Though the nature of Robin’s insistence triggers another train of thought. 

“Do I seem nervous or stressed? Impossible! Look, I am here at the party.” He’s reminded of Yavie earlier that evening, how ready the younger fey was to lend him power. Were the seedlings beginning to doubt him? Sure, he was beginning to struggle to maintain some sense of time and got confused on occasion, but that didn’t mean he was failing at his duties. “New is good, but some things are futile. Our bodies are … transcendent. We are not bound by base desire like the children.” 

Perhaps his views were old, maybe even too old to be considered relevant, but the old ways brought the fey this far so why abandon them for conventions that’ll surely pass in a millennium or two? Zahrya held a deep love for all eladrin, but power begets power and that’s what was needed now. “My parents were born of magic older than Her Majesty, power undiluted by this realm. It runs through my veins, the omega of two ancient noble lines. Is it so wrong to want to honor that?”

...

“Zahrya, dearest, you are within a Changeling and intimidating the other party goers,” Robin reminds him softly, eyes flickering around the room in a pointed manner before they settle back upon the Spriggan before her. It is concerning, to say the least, the way the Chancellor is acting. It is not entirely out of character, no, but there is a hint of something else, and undertone that she can glimpse within his actions. Despite knowing that it is not quite her place, despite knowing that he will likely not listen as she is merely a noble from Autumn and not his equal, not quite, she has to point out the truth. “Your dislike for mortals is well known, but I do not believe you would have gone as far as bring your Changelings to a Senate sponsored party if you weren’t nervous or stressed. It is not quite your usual style.”

“A common reaction, of course,” she rushes to reassure him, not wanting to make him think she is judging him for his stress or nerves. “The situation is rather worrying, and I know you are excelling at your duties, but you are more than your duties, Chancellor. I know you will fulfill them, but aside your duties we also need you.”

She shrugs.

“Perhaps we are not bound to base desires, but they are nice, every once in a while.”

“It is not wrong to want to honor your parents, no,” she finally settles in her response, not believing she should push on that topic as it would likely be both an uphill battle and a losing one, and she would rather focus on the battle for the Spring Chancellor’s mental health.