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[eveniceburns]

SL 4 with @TurningEternal and @WinterBlood_

                         Christian:

Sean and I stood at the edge of the property, a cool fog surrounding us. Across the way was my father and uncles, dressed in druid robes, steady as statues. It wasn’t lost on me that if the fae world--MacKayla Lane--hadn’t intruded on my life, that I’d be standing amongst them right now. Long robes would cloak a six-foot frame instead of a seven-foot one. Hands that could create protection and love would press together, instead of extinguishing it. And the only wings around would be a Scottish crossbill. If it was possible, Sean was standing even more still than the others. It was as if he feared simply breathing would spread poisonous spores that would suck their life force out like the shadow creatures in Dublin.

“The others should be along shortly,” my father’s eyes didn’t quite meet mine.

“Aye,” I whispered. I had wondered why Dageus and Winter would sneak off together, but I suspected it had something to do with his knowledge of The Nine’s spellwork and the snaw fae’s knowledge of the Silvers. They probably were ensuring our relic would stand the test of time.

Suddenly a roar sounded from over the hill.

“Ryodan…” I growled. Why was he here? He had created this mess, I wasn’t about to let him clean it up. This was druid business, the Silvers and the doorways to faery had always been /our/ jurisdiction. He and his pack had simply carved out doggie-doors for themselves and assumed pissing all over made them residents as much as the rest of us. Not likely.

But the monster that crested the grassy field was not Ryodan.

“Dageus?”

He was not alone. A second animal was with him, a magnificent creature with dark skin and white fur. Massive, muscular legs carried a brute that rivaled my uncle. Eyes that matched my own and Sean’s, opalescent and multi-colored, searched the tall grass. Spotting us, they loafed down, the ground vibrating as they approached under the elephantine weight. 

                         Winter:

She’d baited the beasty to chase her through the forest, swatted at his rump and tugged on his tail until he was as playful as she. It was not appropriate perhaps, dire times on the horizon and all but she was in the need for something lighthearted and bright. Needed something to drive away the emptiness inside that gaped, missing piece growing more and more each day. She felt as if the wind blew it was sweep right through her but in this form she was able to ignore it, her mind taken by the more basic instincts. It wasn’t that she was less aware standing tall, fur covering her from head to toe but that she could allow herself to drift. So she chased and played until Dageus nipped and nudged, telling her it was time. Pushing her to the clearing, to responsibility and potentially home. 

The Druids and Princes were easy to find, obvious in the valley, their scent loud and thrilling. She tugged at Dageus’s tail and jumped over him as he turned to snap at her, looking over her furred shoulder at him to grin with sharp teeth. Her body moved easily in this form, or perhaps it was less inhibited so the wind carried her, icy breeze transporting her before the Princes and the Druids. The fog turning white with snow as she stood, a grin on her face as she stood taller than Chrisitan, purposefully looking down on him as her white fur began to recede. She slimmed and shrank as blue skin was bared, turning to stripes and then branches of veins on pale skin while she stood proud, nude. Dageus grouching beside her as she stood proud, naked skin shining within the fog. 

                        Christian:

As the humongous, furry pair of animals bound their way down the field to where we stood, my eyes grew wide. Dageus was easy to recognize, but it took a few seconds to place his companion. Until she stopped in front of me, dwarfing my Unseelie form, and locked eyes with mine, sending a frosted chill down my spine. It was Winter. She was a snowy figure, a giant downy creature with glowing eyes and talons that scraped up dirt with every step. Then with a shimmer, she began to shrink, to peel away the layers of the glorious beast she had transformed into, changing back, shifting again, to her human form. 

My uncles averted their eyes, turning away as her woolly exterior shed and smooth, naked skin was revealed. Even Dageus gave his back to shudder and shrink down. I did no such thing, refusing to blink for fear of missing a single moment of her hypnotic mutation. Unseelie Princes felt no shame, we were literal sex gods. If it weren’t for the Sidhbha-jai turning mortals to wet, moaning slaves, I’d never wear clothes.

Sean stood next to me, a look of satisfaction on his face. He was enjoying this as well, his royal allure unmuted and calling out like a Siren. My arm shot out, elbow kicking back and into the middle of his face.

“Fuck!” he howled and turned away, spitting blood. “You dick.”

I shot him a glance that screamed /Get control of yourself, or I’ll do it for you./  Then my wings came down and around, shielding the snaw fae from the others in a darkened blanket of feathers.

“Do you have clothes with you, bonnie lass?”

                        Winter:

She breathed in deeply, feeling her ribs expand and her muscles stretch. There was power crackling under her skin from the shift, from the fun. It was as if the short time of playfulness in a form that was little magic and all instinct had recharged her. She felt lovely. Powerful. Nearly whole. And perhaps it was the winter fog that stroked her bare skin or the magic of this land but there was hope within her. 

With a pleased smile, she swept her hand through the fog and looked at the men around her, amusement dimpling the corners of her mouth as she saw the prudish druids averting their gazes. Even Dageus turned his back as his body shifted between forms, a louder more painful transition than her own. But it was the heat of the stranger, an obvious Prince whom she could only assume was Sean, that drew her attention. That look, pure Unseelie Prince, was soon interrupted by a sharp elbow to the face. Laughter bubbled up like music at the sight of his disgruntled face, filling the valley around them until Her Prince shrouded her in his wings. 

Her giggles slipped away when those dark, beautiful wings curled around her. They took her laughter away, her breath, as the shine of her moon pale skin reflected off the midnight feathers. Her fingers reached out to touch along the soft edges of his lovely feathers, a hum sounding at the back of her throat, bright eyes slipping to the side to glance at him. “Violent.” She smirked before slipping a hand between the fold of his wings to snatch her cloak from the air, pulling it into this private space. “And what would you do if I did not have my clothing?” 

                        Christian:

She was like a white dove in a midnight sky, a tiny silver ice-fae dancing across the mossy green forest inside my wings. A sharp wind lifted and spun around us, but inside my nest all was calm, as if a summer night for the dewy glow of Winter’s skin. Her soft laugh tickled my subconscious as if I’d heard it before somewhere. At times the imprints of Unseelie Princes past drifted to the surface, and I had a feeling I was sensing the King’s creation more than a true memory of my own. Her gentle teasing lifted a subtle laugh from my chest.

“I imagine I’d lend you my shirt, lass. Or send Dageus to retrieve your clothes wherever you left them among the trees.”

I always knew the snaw fae was more than just her human form, but I’d not considered this. She was absolutely breathtaking, a beast that stood taller than even me. My lips turned down in a scowl. No wonder Ryodan had attached himself to her like a lost puppy. No wonder she tolerated that fool with such patience. Observing Winter and Dageus scampering about the hillside gave me way too many images of what her and Ryodan might do in animal form. Well. He’d betrayed her the moment he sealed up the Silvers. Now /I/ would make it right.

“Are you ready to begin, lass?”

                        Winter:

Her fingers plucked at his shirt with a sly smile but she just shook her head, still floating on the high of amusement and beastie playfulness. 

“A Prince who wants clothing. Curious.” She winked, teasing further to try and ease the frown that suddenly marred Christian’s features. There was no doubt it was from his own thoughts, not her or her nudity. Such a serious man. Shaking her head slightly she dressed in her shift and cloak, quickly braiding her hair back, away from her face. She took these moments to compose herself, gathering her seriousness and settling into this moment. It was time to leave the playfulness behind and focus on opening her home. On dragging that sickness from her Silvers. Saving herself and those lands. 

“Yes.” Her head tilted down slightly, tri colored eyes closing for a moment of reflection or perhaps prayer before sweeping a hand over the Prince’s wings. Silently asking for them to part and free her from the dark refuge. “Let us begin.”

                        Christian:

A dozen feet of black feathers peeled back in each direction to reveal Winter to my uncles once again. Sean’s nose had likely healed by now, no telling on his mood. I glanced his way just enough to see that he had clasped his hands in front of his body and was standing back a few feet. Aye. Better. My uncles, Dageus included, were standing in formation among the stones, hands free from the deep pockets of their cloaks and eyes bright.

“Together we will open a singular path to the Silvers, and Winter will draw the disease forth. It will seek her, especially if this is the only route available. Sean will absorb the virus and hold it within himself until we can bind it to the relic. Then we'll release the rest of the Silvers, opening the doorways again. Are we clear.”

I looked around, saving Winter for last. The idea of using her as bait made my stomach ache, but we had more than enough raw power between the druids, two Unseelie Princes, and the snaw fae to control this spoiled creature. I nodded infinitesimally to her, as if to say, “You are safe here, bonnie lass.”

Then my uncles began the incantation.

                        Winter:

Now that she was free of Christian’s wings she felt dread like a heavy stone in her stomach, squeezing at her chest until she almost struggled to breathe. That thing was going to be coming for her again, going to touch and poison. She didn’t listen to what the Prince was saying only stared at where the silvers would open, where the darkness would come. Her gaze shifted to the other Prince, Sean, the one that would take the darkness in on himself and save her home. Those blue eyes turned to Christian, his gaze on her, comforting and warm. What had he told Sean about his part in this? And did she care? No. 

Her chin dipped down slightly in a nod and her chest rose slow and steady as she drew in a centering breath. She pulled from the cold around them, drawing the fog to her for power and control. She’d become a beacon for that thing, call it to her with the lure of power. There was no doubt in her mind once the silvers were opened it would come straight for her. She could only hope it would not touch her, taint her. Not again. She nodded again, this time at the Druids before she pushed the fog forward, forming a focal point for the druids to use for an opening. Normally they would have a mirror of some sort but this would work, especially with the amount of power in this forest. 

                        Christian:

As the doorway to the Silver opened, it felt as if a light had gone on, calling me home. I wondered if Sean and Winter felt the same draw, the same connection to the Unseelie King’s world. The power it emanated gave me goosebumps, hair standing on end. My wings fluttered subtly, spreading wide behind me.

“What the…” my gaze narrowed. Something was coming straight for us from inside the Silver, but it wasn’t the disease. A black stare under even darker hair was locked on me, and a boiling rage slid up my spine. Without blinking, I pointed to my right, staring straight ahead. “Sean. Get over here and hold the doorway. When the disease shows itself, take it. Do not let it reach her.”

Without another word, I forged through into the Silver, hissing a misty breath into the fog. Why Ryodan was here, inside the Silver, meant either he had a hidden agenda or he’d been alerted somehow to our magic. If he meant to sneak around inside faery, I’d make sure he never escaped it. If he was here to stop us from cleansing the Silvers, he was in for a bloody surprise.

                        Winter:

Tears burned in her eyes as the Silvers opened, the void within her filling quickly, steadily. She was drowning in the sensation of being whole and strong again. Couldn’t barely breathe past the relief but she held her cool expression, kept her calm exterior. That is until the scent of Ryo wafted through the opening of the Silvers and her gaze found her through the mirror-like fog. Emotions warred within her, rage and grief both fighting to overpower the other. They’d known the Nine would be monitoring the Silvers somehow but that had not expected such a fast response. Did they keep a backdoor open for themselves? Or had they prepared for this when she’d escaped with Dageus? 

It didn’t matter now, Ryo was there and he’d try to stop them if he could. She moved forward, fog wrapping around her as her power sang at full force but it was Christian that stepped through the portal to meet the beast. Christian that ordered Sean to protect her. As if she wouldn’t go after him. She swept past Sean, frost creeping over his skin where his hand touched her but he didn’t let go, allowed himself to be pulled into her world. Her Silvers. 

The realms sang when her feet touched the ground and the wind whipped around them, pushing Ryodan back and away from the portal they had created and removing Sean’s grip from her arm. It embraced her and Christian, singing its warnings as darkness crept across the sky, grass beginning to brown and the trees of the surrounding forest withering as it crept closer, attracted by her and the surge of power that came from opening the Silvers once more. 

                        Christian:

I didn’t have to look back to know that Sean had failed at keeping Winter back and that she had now joined me. Faery chimed with a life and energy that only she could ignite. I felt it surge through me, drawing the Unseelie Prince forth and leaving Christian in the world we left behind. Ryodan was blasted back by it. By us, The Fae. It brought a toothy smile to my face, watching his eyes widen in surprise. Not many creatures could strongarm The Nine, Ryodan especially. And we’d just delivered a blast strong enough to knock him back just by entering the Silvers. Now he saw: This was /our/ world.

The storm clouds rolled in as he and I faced off, darkened sickness creeping forth as I knew it would once it could sense the snaw fae. A similar aura was pulsing behind me--Sean had forged his way into the Silver as well. Good man. Keeping his promise to protect Winter and take the sickness that infected her realm down.

That left me free to distract Ryodan while the others took care of things. Dare I say, it brought me joy to feel his fist connect with my face, to make his body bruise with each blow I delivered. He cranked my wing around, but I spun into the pull, wrapping him into a feathered cocoon that blinded him long enough to get my hands around his throat.

"That's quite a grip," he said. My fists tightened infinitesimally more. He shouldn't be speaking. "I'll have to tell Dani what a big boy you've become."

With a snarl, my fingers dug into the sides of his neck. He knew that name, that /woman/ had haunted me for years. I felt a warm blanket of blood begin to ooze down my hands.

                        Winter:

Her attention split between the two men and the haunting disease that crept across the horizon to meet them. She did not cower though fear gripped her, power crackled with her emotions, ice spreading from her bare feet and outwards to cover the entire grassy knoll which they stood. Moonbright skin sparkled, the blue of her veins standing out as brightly as the blue of her eyes. She was home and the Silvers pressed power into her, giving her the life the darkness tried to suck away. It was power she extended to Sean, fingers touching his damaged wings, skin and feathers forming along the tattered arches as her touch healed and invigorated the man. There was a life in his eyes, a purpose driven by her own need and a power in his body that pulled the attention of that darkness to him. Away from her long enough that her gaze moved to Christian and Ryo, her anger aimed the wind at the Beast. Ice and sharp winter air cutting at his skin, peeling flesh where she had scarred his left side. Adding to the blood already pooling from the Prince’s hands and giving lift to dark wings as they lifted the Prince and his victim into the air. 

She left them to it, breath catching as the heat of the darkness pulled the chill from her skin. 

                        Christian:

If Christian were here, he would have kept a watchful eye on Winter, on the bait set so perfectly within this plane to entice the inky disease drawing close. But the Scotsman was long gone now, Unseelie Prince taking full control and solely focused on the prey within his grasp. My fingers started to elongate, claws digging through the flesh of Ryodan’s neck. His monstrous hands swung out, boulder-sized fists beating at my sides, but just as quickly, my wings pumped hard, lifting my body up and out of his range. Now he hung from my grip, a noose too tight as his limbs flailed for purchase. The soft, glowing gaze of my immortality lit his face, eyes wide and bloodshot from lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be sure to drop your corpse on Dani’s doorstep when we’re through here,” I hissed, fangs bared to his.

BOOM.

My body flew backward, wings unable to catch me in time as I crashed down a few dozen yards away. Ryodan landed on two feet from where we once hovered, one hand holding the wide gashes in his neck, the other lowering a handgun--smoke still rising from the barrel.

“Cheater,” I snarled.

His mouth opened to speak, but a strange, inhuman noise drew both our attention away from one another. 

                        Winter:

It expanded as it came closer, an inky cloud of nothingness that took over the sky and land. It sucked the life from the land, the sky, tried pulling the life from her. Her silvers. It even muted the echoing crack of a gun, leaving them in near silence. The only sound that of the wind swirling, icy air circling the four protectively. She stood with her hands lifted, the grass frosted beneath their feet, air fogging from their breath as the darkness circles them. 

Fingerlike tendrils reaching out to touch their little bubble of winter and twitching back as bits froze and dropped to dust. It kept touching, kept trying, slamming into this barrier she held until a circle of its remains surround them. Still it came. Weakening her with each push, shrieking in the silence. Demanding. Wanting. She felt its need, its greed.

Her eyes, white with lightning streaks of blue, flicked to Sean. He was remade, standing tall and healed, wrapped in Princely pride and power. Confident. There was even a bit of a smile of the normally sullen features as he gave a nod before stepping in front of her, wings spreading out as one of her hands dropped. Wind rushed inwards, a tornado of winter swirling around them as she let half her barrier drop. Within moments the darkness rushed in, pulled in by the rush of air inward and forced towards Sean. 

She didn’t know how his power worked, how the King had designed this creation but one this disease touched the Prince it was drawn in. She watched in horror as it fought the magnetic pull, as that inky darkness tried to pull away from Sean’s skin. As it was absorbed into him, sucked away until there was nothing left of it but the shadow beneath his skin. It was quiet after. Not the overpowering silence of that haunting thing but the quiet of death. The grass was left darkened and flat, the trees hollowed out and grey, creatures missing from this land. Even the thrum of lift she normally felt beneath her feet was muted. It broke something within her to feel her home, her Silvers so weak. She drew in a deep breath, air catching in her throat as anger and grief swirled within her. She wanted pain and death. Wanted more than this silence, wanted more than the ease of which Sean drew the disease into himself. She wanted blood on her hands and screams in her ears. Those white eyes turned towards Ryodan as he still stood, staring at Sean and she started towards him, cloak slipping off her shoulders as her skin started to darken into a deep blue. She wanted his blood. His screams. Wanted to feed him to her Silvers for strength. 

                        Christian:

Both Ryodan and I watched in horror as the monstrous bacteria poked and prodded its way inside the cocoon of ice Winter had built up around us. We were too far away to reach her, it was simple physics. But the broad chest of Sean appeared, blocking the snaw fae with his mighty chest and wings. He looked...more alive than I’d ever seen him, his hands out and ready to catch the disease as it nose-dived for Winter. As the darkness cloaked him, trying to pull back from the magnetism that he used to merge himself with the sickness, it squealed and shrieked in terror. But Sean was Disease, a Horseman, and an Unseelie Prince. We held all the power these Silvers bore, and soon it was all over, his body twitching as the virus succumbed to the pull and settled beneath his skin.

I crawled to my feet, chest sore from the bullet that had penetrated my organs. My wings dragged behind me, body intent on conserving all available energy to heal. Next to me, Ryodan had yanked off a sleeve from his shirt, using it to try and clot the bleeding from his neck. His head jerked back as we all saw Winter take off towards him, murderous intent in her eyes as sharp as the icy chill that ran down my spine.

With a yell, I ordered my uncles to complete the spell, opening all Silvers once again. I inserted myself between Winter and Ryodan, catching her at a full sprint in my arms, using my wings to catch us from falling like a parachute. Ryodan was smart enough to leap out of the way. And Sean, in full sync with his fellow Unseelie Prince now, drew a freshly opened Silver towards us and sent Ryodan through it with a swift kick to the gut. Then we withdrew, Sean leading the way and myself with Winter in my arms, all the way back out onto the grassy fields of Scotland. It was only there, once I had the snaw fae safely out of the circle of Druids and across the way from Sean, did I release her.

                        Winter:

She snarled and fought as she was caught in the arms of her prince, head tilting back as she slipped to mid-shift and mouth opening on a banshee’s scream. She was overwhelmed with anger, with grief at the weakness of her home, with the power that now surged through her after such a period without. There was a storm that raged inside of her, wanting to be free and released and she was held back from aiming that turmoil towards the person that betrayed her. That cut away a piece of her and left her home vulnerable and dying. 

Dagger like claws cut at Christian and her razor teeth bit into the flesh of his arm as she fought, only settling when removed from the Silvers and the scent of humans, of the druids, pierced her raging. Then she collapsed, claws become nails as her beastly blue skin paled to snow white but they still dug into him, her teeth still caught at his flesh as she shuddered. Still caught in a storm of emotion, tears of rage freezing down her cheeks. And perhaps tears of relief. They were wiped aside as she was released, her back turned to Sean and the druids, facing Christian only. 

“You denied me his blood.” She wanted to taste it, feel it. Ryodan deserved to give a life for what he had done to her, to the Silvers. She was no longer blinded by the pure rage but she was distracted with the need, too distracted to truly notice anything outside of herself and the Prince. 

                        Christian:

I understood the need for revenge, for vengeance when wronged by another. I’d spent many nights obsessed with tearing down the Crimson Hag for the months of torture she bestowed upon me. I wanted to pick her a part, cell by cell, as she had me, then watch her slowly regenerate, only to be flayed again when healed enough. Winter would have her day with Ryodan eventually. But right now, we couldn’t spare any other distractions or else risk our work becoming undone. There could be more of the Nine coming through the Silvers. It wasn’t worth the risk.

As I carefully let go of Winter, her claws and teeth kept her attached to my body. She’d clamped down like an angry wolf, unwilling to let go of whatever creature was foolish enough to allow himself to be caught by her. Folly I embraced in this moment, cupping her snowy skin to tilt her head up towards me. My blood lingered on her lips, which I carefully thumbed away. 

“Denied you his blood, aye. Take mine instead, snaw fae.”

Knowing the beast she could become enticed the Unseelie Prince lurking below the surface. Knowing the blood she could spill with ease--aye, those teeth had cut through my flesh with latent violence that was reserved for the most cunning of creatures. Knowing she wished to punish Ryodan for his betrayal sent a rush of desire through my veins. My mouth opened to suggest she take out every blood-thirsty urge on me instead. Ryodan didn’t deserve her touch, loving or ferocious. Instead, a strange silence caught my attention instead. My uncles had finished and were waiting quietly with Sean on the other side of the circle.

                        Winter:

She snapped at his finger like a feral animal, ragged, icy puffs of air escaping as she tried to go for his throat. She wanted more of the blood that coated her teeth and tongue, that warmed the tips of her fingers and painted crimson lines along her pale skin. But his attention shifted from her, pulling a grunt of annoyance from her. Her gaze, still a glowing white, shifted to find what had taken away her Prince’s attention, a crackling growl ripping from her throat at the sight of another Prince, of the druids. All having been forgotten in this moment with the Unseelie that touched and held her.  

Logic prodded at the animal haze that had blanketed her mind and her head pulled back, away from his touch, blue bleeding back into her eyes as her sides heaved. Deep, calming breaths forced into her lungs as she was caught under the wary gazes of the MacKeltar clan. And Sean, interest in the now healthy and healed Prince’s gaze. It was with difficulty that she pulled her cold facade back into place as she gripped her bloody hands in tight fists and fought down the need to pin Her Prince to the ground. To sink her teeth into his flesh once more and feel his violence. His blood. To fight. To fuck. Her gaze cut back to Christian, swaying towards him slightly before she slowly and deliberately moved away. Her tongue curling out over her teeth to suck away his blood, tip of her tongue touching the corners of her mouth to lick it clean before she forced her focus on the now. On finishing what they had all started. 

She straightened, shoulders going back and chin lifted slightly before she slipped out of Christian’s orbit and towards the others. There was a fog that blanketed the knoll and it rushed up to curl around her legs and cling to the skirt of her dress as she walked back into the circle. The wind rushed through the trees to twist around her, winding between the druids and then around Sean. Her brow furrowed at the forest’s odd behavior but it didn’t stop her from reaching out, fingers brushing over the horseman’s forearm. They would need skin contact to focus the disease into an artifact, she’d heard of his lack of control. His hatred for his new self. And before he would have been weak, picked apart by his own fingers. Now he surged with power. And when her fingers touched his skin the darkness surged as well. His flesh blackened and rippled, inky tendrils trying to force out of his skin to grip at her fingers and hand. The wind caught dark, recently healed wings and forced them open and filled them with air. The fog rushed up, icy and thick to hide her from his view. She was pushed back and away from the Darkness and Disease before it could touch her, infect her. 

                        Christian:

It was with great restraint that my hands stayed at my sides, wings down, feet planted as Winter moved away from me and towards the others. The urge to trap her in my embrace and disappear for a few hours--nights--weeks--of indulgence, of raw fucking that would strip us both bare was almost too much for both the Scotsman and the Unseelie Prince. They stared one another down inside my psyche, measuring up, daring the other to step up and dominate. 

Which is how at first I missed what was happening. Winter had moved back into the circle to assist my uncles and Sean placing the fae disease into the relic we chose. As she drew close to Disease, the forest rebelled, swirling wind and fog rushing around her form. Sean’s hand reached for her, his veins black under his skin, the darkness pulsing hard to meet her. It slipped out through the pores of his skin, entrails dancing towards her, happy to find home in her flesh once again.

Then the atmosphere shifted, a thick cloud closing them off from each other, the moorish storm pushing the snaw fae back from danger. I was there in an instant, in between the threat and Winter.

“You cannae touch her, Sean,” I said to him, an arm up at the ready to defend if needed. But he had managed to hold his control, shoulders back and wings flaccid. This was a predicament. We needed Winter to help implant the sickness, but she couldn’t touch Sean or it would escape into her form once again. That could not happen.

I looked over at my uncles, their expressions flustered and without answers.

“I can hold it,” Sean said suddenly.

My head spun back around. “Are you sure? Just hours ago you were weak with your own self-pity. And now you are strong enough to contain this darkness?”

“Yes,” his head lifted. There was something more to him since we entered the Silvers. He’d found an anchor of some sort, a focus to keep him from descending over the cliffs into madness.

“Is that… can he do that?” I looked back to my uncles, glancing briefly at Winter.

“He is Disease,” my father lifted his shoulders. He wasn’t sure. Neither was I.  I looked back at Winter.

“What do you say, snaw fae?” I asked her. “Your word is all that matters.”

                        Winter:

It was like a switch had been flicked. The rage and thirst for blood had already been tamped down when she forced herself away from Her Prince but it nearly disappeared when that darkness almost touched her. Though her heart hammered against her chest and her fingers were clamped around where that sickness almost touched her, the mask of cool indifference was firmly in place. Her wintery gaze roamed over Sean, weighing his strength and worth and ignoring the sick, twisted sensation that swam through her. She would not be distracted by the possibility of being infected once more. Of being weak and feverish.

Instead, she imagined the darkness moving within this Prince, the Horseman. Pestilence and disease reincarnated. She imagined it was staring back at her from its new confines, could feel its gaze on her skin. It was then that she saw it for what it was, a growing, living creature. Another creation of Father’s and the Unseelie realm. She knew, it had grown too fat and greedy to be held within the relic they had chosen and it would not lie dormant. It would fight its confines and needed a cage that would fight back.  

Tricolored, blue eyes shifted to focus on Sean’s face for a moment before they turned to Christian, allowing herself to move a step back as an excuse to focus on Her Prince. She was not trying to distance herself from the disease or its prison. No. She moved back one more step, fingers pressing against her skin, imagining she could feel the warmth of that near touch. “We healed him, the Silvers and I. His body is strong enough to hold this sickness, we can only hope his mind is strong enough to fight it.”

[eveniceburns]

Post SL 3 with @TurningEternal

The earth sang beneath her feet, the icy wind braiding through her hair as she and Dageus walked their way through the woods. There was silence between them as she focused on her ebbing energy and he focused on tightening the chains around the beast he now carried within. There was a heaviness here, between them and the other MacKeltars. Words that weighed down on each of them, apologies needed from she and the Prince. Admittance from the others. A simple loss of her temper against the Prince’s arrogance had almost killed the humans and they struggled to pull themselves away from the blanket of denial they had pulled over their heads. 

She was a creation of the King, their relation a Prince reborn. And the stubborn scots wanted Christian to pretend to be naught but a human, to bend himself into a mould he no longer within. And she, they had peace and connections that dated centuries back but they ignored what she was. Who she was. Until it was shoved down their throats and freezing them from the inside out. Idiots. 

Her feet stopped and her head tipped back, blue eyes staring up at the winter grey sky. “I wish to run.” She had excess energy and emotion thrumming under her skin and she did not have the energy to express it with magical play but she could shed this form for another with ease, burn away these tedious emotions and thoughts. She rolled her head to the side to glance at Dageus, a challenge in her bright eyes. When this mess was done she would take the time to teach him, help him learn control and acceptance as she had tried with Ryo. He would never survive outside of his basement prison without embracing the new part of himself. As he had done with the darkness of the Thirteen. But for now she wanted to forget the troubles and play. She smiled at him, wide and free when he gave her a disgruntled look and snorted like the beast he was. “Come now. I can feel it itching under your skin. The want pounding in your blood.” Her feet barely touched the ground as she danced forward a step then back, playful and relaxed. Nothing to do but wait for her Prince to return with Sean. Nothing to handle or fix until she had the strength of her silvers back, had her connection to life and home returned. “Come beasty. I promise to play nice.” 

Her soft, musical laugh was swept away by the wind, echoing in the quiet of the forest. Goading and bright. His eyes flashed and his jaw flexed. Control barely there, not because he did not have it but because like her he was tired. Wanted nothing more than to be swept away in the moment, nothing but baser instincts and the thrill of the run. It had been so long since she took the form most knew her as, the form that brought fear to her victims. The beast the King gave her to hide behind so she could walk free as Sidhe and woman and not be turned away or looked upon with fear or disgust. She stretched her hands over her head and let her ever-present grey cloak slipped to the ground, the fabric folding itself into a carrier of sorts for the clothing she began to remove. Her skin shone brightly in the light of the sun, moon pale and as brilliant as a diamond but as she stood the blue of her veins darkened and the long, silver hair that flowed in the wind crept around her limbs to stick and spread. Her body grew, nearing 9 feet of slender, muscular frame covered in fur that was blue at the root and snow white at the tip. She was built for speed and power in this form, her hands and feet now padded paws tipped in deadly silver claws, her eyes iridescent beauty that trapped her prey with their shifting, prism of colors. They were clear now, icy and white as she crouched slowly and swiped at the Druid playfully. He stepped back, shaking his head and denying her a playmate. Denying himself his beast. That just would not do. She took a quick step forward, forcing him back and off balance so she could dart around and catch her claws at his side. Splitting skin under those deadly daggers and dragging them up to his spine, freeing the fur beneath and cackling as he roared in fury and relief. 

He was different from the others, from Ryodan, his beast larger and darker. More aware. There was intelligence in those eyes like he was more Dageus that beast even in this four-legged form. Good. Then he could play, could chase and tackle without her worrying he’d go off to munch on the villagers. With a toothy smile, she gave his tail a tug, darting back as he turned to snap at her paws. Irritation practically rolled off him in waves but it just made her want to poke, prod, play. She slipped behind a tree in a blink of an eye and moved to his back once more, tugging on his tail before lopping off, deeper into the forest. Tag. He was it.

[eveniceburns]

SL 3 {@turningeternal and @winterblood_ }

                         Christian:

It hadn’t gone unnoticed that each day I healed, grew stronger, mended my body back together, that Winter grew weaker, her movements more deliberate, body impossibly thinner than before. She had given her last surge of energy to help weld my bones and muscles back together, fuse my broken wing back to its original shape. And now she likely felt my eyes on her whenever she was near, noticed the fake smile I plastered on for both her benefit and my relatives. My parents still weren’t used to their seven-foot-plus son with the black crow’s wings and otherworldly timbre. It took effort to walk like a human, talk and laugh like a mortal, speak and sing like the Scotsman I once was. But no matter what gathering of my family was taking place, my focus always drifted to the woman with snowflakes in her eyes and long ribbons of moonlit hair. They adored her as if she’d never left my uncles’ side all those years ago.

When Winter and I were alone, however, I could let my guard down. The Unseelie could come forth, the human slip away. Even the Sidhbha-jai didn’t affect her, although it would the other women on MacKeltar land so that I had to keep muted. But there was no need for fake laughter and smiles when we sat near the fireplace in my makeshift room, exchanged soft words and stories. 

Yet I worried for her so. Finally, I spoke with Dageus, and it didn’t surprise me that his concern mirrored mine. He had been there when the Nine decided to take action, and he had brought Winter here thereafter for her protection. So we gathered the druids, and I went to my chambers to gather the snaw fae. I knocked on the door before entering.

“Lass, are you well?”

                         Winter:

Breathing was harder, moving a difficulty her mind could barely comprehend. It was if quicksand grabbed at her limbs and flowed through her veins, weighing her down and trying to pull her to the ground. To bury her. She fought the weakness, the loss of strength and life in silence choosing to sit in the noise of this Scottish home with this family that laughed loud, spoke louder, and near shattered the windows with the sound of their singing. It was joy and life though there was an underlying tension that felt as if it could break at any moment. She watched as the MacKeltars orbited each other, not really saying what they wanted and averting their gaze from the imposing Prince in their midst. He tried, smothered his power and personality, curled his body inwards and clutched his wings back. He tried to disappear in the crowd, to be unnoticed but she saw him. Saw the awkwardness and uncertainty that she thought he had overcome. It twisted grief and something sharper, like panic, in her chest. A feeling that only eased when they were alone, firelight flickering across their features, voices soft but echoing with innate power. 

She was the safe haven for this boys, her lap a place for Dageus’s beast to rest its head, her ears for Cian and his troublesome brogue, and her ability to survive before a Prince and all of his glory. And when she left their sides to retire to the Prince’s space she collapsed into the chair by the window and let the icy, winter air wrap around her, stroke her hair and her cheeks. She was tired. Weak. The longer the Silvers were cut from her the less she was herself. There was no doubt that she’d be wasting away, turned to nothingness if this continued. Not even sure you could call it death as part of her would always survive within the Silvers. 

The back of her head rolled against the chair’s silken upholstery so her gaze could find Christians, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Are you?” She pushed from the chair, icy air following her as she stepped into the Prince’s shadow and let her dimmed but still color filled eyes stay with his. “Should we go to where your family gathers?” They moved like elephants these men, never quiet in their own home, never subtle.  

                        Christian:

Of course she knew, just like she knew my heritage and the innate powers within my form without ever having to ask. She saw the Scotsman, the druid, the horseman and the Unseelie Prince. I stepped closer, offering my arm to shoulder some of her weight.

"I am well, Snaw Fae. Let's go join the others."

As we headed down the stairs, it was with restraint and respect that I held back from carrying her form. I knew she wouldn't want the others to see how slow she moved now, how the light in her eyes sometimes faded. Before we reached the landing, I let out a blast of cold air, hoping my ice would aid her in our descent. The window opposite us frosted over, crystals crawling up the glass at if to decorate the frame. She seemed to draw comfort in my chill before, when I was angry and broken. I hoped now it might alleviate some of her suffering. 

We entered the sitting room, my uncles and father all rising when they saw Winter. I stayed upright behind her when the others sat. Like a beast guarding his prey, I loomed over her form, wings lifted but not spread, body hovering over her head. The Unseelie realm facing off with the earthly druids. The line had finally been drawn, my Scottish past, my druid family on one side. My future, Death, the Fourth Prince and his court on the other. 

"It is time we undid what's been done."

                        Winter:

Her hand rested on his arm, fingers tightening when her legs wobbled or her steps faltered. She could feel his want to help, had no doubt he’d sweep her off her feet as he had so long ago in the mansion if only she’d allow it. Amusement warred with pride as they reached the landing, for a moment she considered giving permission but then his power crept across her skin, ice trailing down her spine and leaving her skin glowing softly. Her eyes were bright with relief as a strength now filled her legs, allowing her to move down the steps with ease. 

This weakness made her stomach churn, she was connected to the courts, the Silvers. She was the King’s creation, made royalty for both the Seelie and Unseelie and left to oversee the mounds of the courts and the relics of power. And now she was tired, wasting away. Struggling down the stairs and clinging to the power of an Unseelie Prince to keep her feet. It both exhausted her and sparked anger within her breast. It was that anger and the loam of the Prince at her shoulder that kept her shoulders back, spine straight as she sat before the Druids. She would have her Silvers back. 

“I will hear your plan.”

                        Christian:

The discussion began. Dageus made it clear reopening the Silvers was not as simple as reversing the means used to close them. It would take more magic and stronger spells. Plus it would likely be disrupted by Ryodan and his band of fools. They would know the moment we tampered with their careful work.

"We will need to access very specific paths to reconnect the Silvers to our world," Dageus explained. 

"I can reach any or all if necessary". Being an Unseelie Prince meant limitless access, although it came at a cost. But I'd deal with the consequences later.

"That doesn't solve all our problems," my father interjected. "There's still the disease to extract and destroy."

"Can you describe further the dark monster who infected you?" I looked down at Winter. She knew better than all of us what had tried to cross over.

                        Winter:

Her gaze flicked up to Christian when he mentioned his access, a wrinkle forming between her brows for a moment before smoothing out. The others need not worry for whatever the Prince was planning, she would handle him when the Silvers re-opened. Would have the power to do so without exhausting herself. For the moment she focused on trying to describe the darkness that crept through her home and burrowed under the skin. 

“It is a living thing. I felt as if it was haunting the Mansion and myself more than infecting us. I am not sure how it came to be, how it arrived. I had not felt an unknown presence before it came for me. And then it spread quickly, it did not like my cold and it burned when it touched me.” 

She wasn’t sure what else to say about this thing, she remembered darkness and nightmares. Feeling drained. “I think it needs a host with great life to give. It sucked the land dry but the Mansion was still breathing. Though, changed.” She tilted her head back to up at Christian, he had seen the Mansion, felt some of its sickness and she lifted her brows in question. Not sure if she had explained enough of this thing. 

                        Christian:

The room stayed silent for a moment as we all tried to figure out what this thing was and how we could stop it. It seemed sentient, but only enough to pick a target to infect and reach for it.

"What if we sequestered it somewhere in the other worlds?" I looked at Dageus. "I could look through the King's library in the mansion. Read his notes. Maybe there are instructions on how to reseal the Unseelie Prison."

The dark, icy prison had been reopened when the walls came down between fae and earthly worlds. Creatures of all shapes, sizes, and powers had crawled through, monsters created by the King that had been locked away for a millennia. And if we could trap the disease there, maybe I could toss the Crimson Hag in there as well. I looked at my father, then down at Winter.

                        Winter:

Her eyes narrowed at the Prince, the white ring of color surrounding her pupils expanding and swirling until her eyes were a blizzard of anger. Rage adding a sharpness to her features and a brilliance to her moonlight skin. He would use this for his own purposes, she saw the wheels of a Prince's mind work. Saw a flicker of thought in his eyes. She knew why he fought for the Silvers to be opened and it was not her, it was that damned Hag and his rage towards being her captive. A ruby lip curled to bare a sharp canine. “You’ll remove that wickedness from my home Prince.” There was no room for argument in her soft but deadly voice, her words holding power in this room. 

The Druids held their breath, their eyes a weight on her that she ignored. There was a need to argue, a feeling that thickened the air but they would not speak. Not in this moment when her control was taut. When she was ready to snap. And she had counters to their arguments that she offered in a quiet, commanding voice. “This sickness came from within, most likely from that prison. It would escape again and spread until everything within my Silvers was sucked dried and it had nowhere to go but out. How long do you think your humans would survive? How long would your earth survive?”

                        Christian:

The sharp teeth revealed by the snaw fae, paired with those wicked iced eyes challenged the Unseelie Prince, drew him to the surface. My uncles and father went still, as if to hide from the predators closing in. My wings lifted, spreading out across the room. They filled half the space up, and for a moment, I was reminded of the King’s chambers in the White Mansion. One-half light, a soft snow, delicate for his Concubine.  The other half dark, infinite, an abyss that stretched to accommodate his size and presence.

Winter’s eyes were sharp daggers, her voice carefully controlled. She wanted the disease gone from the Silvers completely. I wanted to use it to my own devices. I had great plans for the mansion and for the once-indestructible Unseelie Prison. My own timbre dropped, the Scotsman gone, the Fourth Horseman alive.

“I will entomb the disease myself. I have both druid knowledge and Unseelie memories from the King. I am the perfect candidate to seal it away for good. Then your Silvers will be safe again, Snaw Fae.”

If she thought Death cared about the mortals left on this side of the Silvers, she was wrong. But my uncles stood close, and I chose not to reveal such detachment. We both could get what we wanted, if she would just yield to the Prince that stood over her.

                        Winter:

The Prince dared to challenge her, posturing with this pitch black wings curved out like weapons. He had lost the humanity in his eyes and it angered her further. The druids fell to the back of her mind, their presence lost as her focus turned fully to the predator before her. Her body uncurled from the chair, slow and graceful like a large cat readying to attack. With her motion the windows shook, icy air rattling the glass panes until it could slip into the room to swirl around her. The wind brought ice and snow that pushed at him, forcing him a step back, out of her space. She would not be crowded by this boy, naught but a bairn in her world. Would not be cowed. Her anger burned across her skin, veins a frozen blue amongst the winter skin, eyes flickering between darkness and winter white. 

“You have ego and arrogance that shadows your opinion. Selfishness to drive your decisions.” She stepped towards him, bare feet leaving frost on the floor that spread outwards, creaking along the stone floors and walls. “You look to do what is best for your plans. Rage and vengeance towards the King’s Hag. It has made you draft.” Her voice rose slightly but still she did not shout. She preferred rage in silence and softness. 

“The King himself sealed that prison and look what has been done. And you, a child in this world believe you can outwit and power the very being that created what you have become?” Her laugh was ice, sharp and cutting. Mocking. “I would expect more from you, Druid.” The last was an insult to him, his loss of mind fore the Princes were not about thought but arrogance and sex. Driven by animal wants instead of intelligence. 

                        Christian:

There are few creatures in all the worlds that could challenge an Unseelie Prince and survive it. One was a Seelie Prince. Ryodan's men wouldn't survive it, but they would come back to life with whatever ancient magic blessed them. The Unseelie King was all powerful. 

Then there was Winter. The tiny fae goddess rose from the chair in front of me, fire and ice. Her presence was so tangible it forced me back, wingtips scraping at the walls as I moved. The room turned to ice, my skin freezing and cracking with each subtle movement. My lungs ached trying to warm the oxygen, eyes watering as I focused on the snaw fae. My teeth clenched at her accusations, lips peeling back in a hiss. If she thought to tear me down, she would have to do better than that. She had history, no doubt. She was made by the King. But I was royalty. My voice dropped so low the floor vibrated.

"If you think to usurp me, fae, you---"

A sharp sound caught my attention. It was Dageus, and his body was waving, as if he stood in front of a funhouse mirror.

Christ. He was about to change. Become the beast Ryodan had made him. Suddenly Winter's challenge to my authority was forgotten, concern for the safety of everyone in the room taking precedence. Holy shit, my other uncles and my father were nearly frozen alive. Their bodies were shaking, eyes wide with fear.

"Let's all just take a breath," I backed away, retreating into the corner as best I could with my wings. 

                        Winter:

In her anger she forgot them, such a rare occurrence for her but this Unseelie halfling cracked through her focus and calm exterior. In her weakness she lost her control over her anger. If he had been truly lost to the Unseelie they would have perished, frozen because of her emotion. Long fingers reached for a tendril of silver hair to curl it around her hand as she took a step back, head tilting towards the humans, and Dageus, but her eyes remained on the Prince. She watched humanity return to his eyes, saw the Unseelie leak away and concern replace it. She did not have it, she could feel the beats of the humans’ hearts, the blood that moved in their veins. It was Dageus that drew her attention, the angry light leaving her gaze and body as she turned her back on the Unseelie to step towards the beast. She whispered, nonsense and soothing as the cold withdrew, as the ice retreated to her. Her pale skin absorbing frigid frost and air. “A fire, Christian.” It was a polite command but it was still an order, she may have accepted his truce but her anger still simmered beneath the surface. It showed in the snow white of her eyes and the clench of her jaw. 

Still, she pushed it aside to touch a hand to Dageus’s chest, feeling the heavy, too fast thud of his heart. “You taught me how to focus once, can you remember so long ago? You puffed up like a rooster with this pride of having the knowledge to share with me.” His heart steadied beneath her hand and he responded with a disbelieving, grumble of a laugh. She moved to the others next, touching cool fingers to the pulses at their throats, drawing the chill from their bodies and swallowing it herself. Gaining strength after expelling so much power when she was weak. Those bright, icy eyes didn’t stray towards the Prince, her back still towards him as she checked what damage she could have caused, apologizing with her touch and with whispered words.

                        Christian:

It was too easy to let the King’s dormancy within us take over, to splay our feathers wide and go nose-to-nose in challenge. We were monsters trying to make civil decisions, it was not in our nature to compromise, to give and take. That was the thing about power. The more you used it, the closer it drew to the surface even when you didn’t need it. It became your shadow, always within reach, always right behind you. In this moment my shadowselves had merged, and we had nearly killed my family by just simply being in the room with them.

I moved at Winter’s soft command, tending to the large fireplace across from me. The embers began to glow softly, orange heat that took the edge off the blizzard we’d created in this barren corner of the castle. I did not look as she consoled Dageus, drawing him back into himself, retrieving the chill that threatened my uncles and father with a gentle nature.

“If we must draw the sickness out of the Silvers, how do we assure it doesn’t creep back in once the doorways are open?” I said as the tension in the room began to fade, heartbeats finding their normal pace, breaths coming easier.

Carefully, I rose and turned, concentrating hard on remaining /Christian/ and not letting Death’s glare slip free from my eyes. I looked only at Dageus, not at my family. I was ashamed for my outburst, human emotions like guilt and regret choking the Unseelie now buried deep in my chest. As much as I hated how it felt, I had to /feel/. It was the only way to ensure my humanity remained.

                        Winter:

“Trap it.” The cold settled under her skin, it followed as she walked back to her chair to curl her legs under her and sit facing the MacKeltars. It was with slow, even breaths that she banked her fury and was able to turn her gaze to the Prince. Finding him focused on his uncle, tension in his shoulders and his wings, tension from control and emotion. Human emotion. It made her want to reach and touch, to soothe him as she did his uncle but she curled her fingers against the arm of the chair and forced it down where she held the rest of her emotions. Dormant and cold. 

“The King trapped part of himself and his darkness in that book, why not trap this sickness in another of the artifacts? Kept and protected.” The tips of her fingers ran over the veins of worn leather on the arm of the chair. She was there for the binding of the Sinsar Dubh, it could be done. They just needed an artifact. “We can bind the sickness, making it near impossible for it to spread. You’re Druids, the duty to protect the boundary and the lands placed on you centuries ago. Can you not guard an object bound with power?” She shifted her gaze, now calm and blue once more, to each of them. She would not beg for this but she would not back down. There was a way to stop this thing and allow her home. There were cracks in the magic the Nine used and druids that crossed time and survived worse than this before her. They were all she had. 

                       Christian:

I blinked, both Dageus and my eyes darting down to Winter as she sat before us. I had never thought to catch the illness in a charm. She was right, the King had split himself and his knowledge into a number of relics, some living and some inanimate. We could do the same with this creature. Transferring it out of the Silvers though would probably require a living host of some kind. Moving through worlds could weaken the magic that caged it. Especially a living disease that could adapt and mutate. 

"Do we have a relic here?" I asked my uncles.

"We will find one," was their United response. We needed something grounded here in Scotland, something that couldn't be picked up, pocketed and carried out. Or brought back into the Silvers again.

"We need a living host," I looked down at Winter. "Something that can handle any kind of sickness and any resistance it might have to being moved."

                        Winter:

A grimace crossed her features as a thought of who could be that host flickered across her mind. Another human turned into someone he was never meant to be. “And if we had a host how long would it take you to find an object?”

Her eyes lifted to meet Christians before her gaze slipped away, she had the answer to their host but she felt… guilt. To reach out a being that was lost, lonely, that became something that kept him separated from all he loved. And now to ask something of him, to play on his need to help and connect. “Do you think this sickness could harm a host?” She doubted her own thoughts, she carried this sickness and it weakened her. Would kill her now without her other half but want about an Unseelie. Her gaze slipped to Christian again, this time considering. Her brothers were Hearty creatures and it seemed these designed Princes were the same. 

"You felt it, do you believe one of your kind could survive? For a short time."

                       Christian:

One of my kind. She meant a Prince. There were four from the light court, and four from the dark court. I wasn’t on good terms with any, Seelie or Unseelie, save for one. 

“Sean…”

Sean O’Bannion had unknowingly taken on the role of Pestilence, and his battle with the Unseelie within his flesh was still raging. I had moments of pure clarity, and could control--for the most part, the Sidhbha-jai and the unyielding power that ran through my veins. I didn’t kill everything I touched--sexually or otherwise--anymore. 

But Sean was still lost to his changing essence. Disease spread wherever he went, which meant he had isolated himself in one of the castles far off from the MacKeltars. It was still Druid land, but barren of all life. I’d spent some time with him, trying to help him find purpose again, to learn how to live as this new, limitless being. He rarely spoke, rarely slept or ate, rarely did much of anything. Even as his love, Kat, a Sidhe-seer, raised his child many miles away.

“He could hold the disease, but he hasn’t moved from the tower I left him in for months. I am not sure we could convince him. And he cannae be near the clan, the Sidhbha-jai is too strong.”

“Then we go to him,” Dageus said. “Do the spell there.”

I looked down at Winter, her marble skin familiar to the Unseelie Prince, my uncle’s voice summoning the Scotsman.

“It might be the best place to keep a relic we don’t wish to be touched by anyone. Disease guarding disease.”

                        Winter:

Her lips curled into a small smile as the Prince voiced her thoughts, knowing whom she meant without needing to actually say. Yes, Sean O’Bannion. One more human infected by the dark power of the Unseelie. This one far worse than the one before her, lost to the madness that was Unseelie. A madness she held, that Christian now carried. 

“Sean. He has been known to do the wrong things for the right reason. His heart is large, we can hope that carried into what he is now. As you have kept your humanity and love for your family.” The emotion for his family is what anchored the Prince, kept him from losing who he had been. She could only hope Sean’s need to help others, his large heart, would anchor him to the present and allow him to help them in their quest. 

“If he can gain control for a day, or even a few hours, he can carry this sickness from my home and transfer it to your relic of choice. Then you will bind it. Protect it from falling into the hands of darkness.” Her fingers tapped at the arm of the chair, exhaling out a slow, icy breath. The Silvers would need to heal after this sickness was taken. After Sean walked through her lands. Unless he could control it enough to only draw the darkness away from the land. 

“What relic will you use? The King used home items. Things of value to himself and his consort, they became relics after he gave them power not before. But they were sidhe items.” A wrinkle formed on her pale brow as she considered the druids, this was not her area. It was theirs. “I have items. Here on this plane, should you think it is necessary to have a Sidhe item.”

                       Christian:

I could only hope this would give him a purpose. He thought all he could do was destroy, but this would help others, help the very Silvers he came from. Maybe this would be the focus he needed to find himself again under the madness that had taken over.

“Let me go to him first,” I stepped off the wall and into the middle of the room. “It will take some convincing. What do we have near the castle that could be used as an anchor?”

I looked from uncle to uncle, meeting my father’s eyes. Och, how they were sad. So sad, as they saw what I’d become. Another piece of humanity took hold. I thought of my mother, how she’d ask about me and what he’d have to divulge. Another rock settled into place.

“There are some stone circles, ancient druid ruins,” Cain suggested. “Once we entomb the disease, the circle will be unbreakable, the bind holding fast forever. No living thing could tamper with such magic.”

The other men mumbled in agreement. We had our relic. Now we needed transport.

“I’ll go to him now. The rest of you follow. Dageus, will you escort Winter to the edges of the druid lands? We'll come to you when he's ready."

[eveniceburns]

 SL 2 {@turningeternal and @winterblood_ }

                         Christian:

I had to sift a total of eleven times before I reached Scotland. The first few took me to worlds I did not recognize, just random selections from the Unseelie Prince heritage I carried with me. Each world was more torrid than the last, creatures and animals crawling over to witness what dying beast had presented itself for their consumption.

However, curiosity killed the cat. Each living being that came close enough was trapped under my one working wing, brought into my chest to feed from. I needed to repair, to rebuild my body from the inside out, and taking the lifeforce of others was the only way left. The totality of broken bones and ruptured organs had taken their toll, making it impossible to even walk. I had to wait for my victims to come close. 

And Death lifted his dark hood and smiled down on the thrumming heartbeats that drew near. He embraced them, took their pulses and added them to his own. He regenerated a little more with each life taken. It was the worst of myself, the Fourth Horseman riding from realm to realm, inhaling mortality and light and leaving behind empty darkness. Each bump allowed another jump, one world closer to my own.

At last, I saw the Scottish hills of my home. I was a long way from healed, but I believed now I would at least survive. Allowing another to become the fourth Unseelie Prince was something I’d fight to the death and beyond. No one else could be trusted or render control over Death as I had. I called out weakly into the breeze. My uncles were here. My father. They would know what to do.

                         Winter: 

She had rested during the trip to Scotland, remembered parts of the drive from Dublin to the ferry. The cool wind off the water and the shift of waves against the ferry comforted her, lulled her until she slept once more and when she woke it was on MacKeltar land. It welcomed her, opened its arms to embrace her presence and whisper in excitement for her return. It adapted for her, the air staying chilled even when the sun was high in the sky, the rain cooled the ground, seeped into the stone of the old castle to mix with the gentle wind to cool the space. Winter had come to MacKeltar land in more than one way. 

She rested in the comfort of this place, one she called home centuries ago when Drustan stood as Laird. Before he met his time-traveling love and made his mistakes with the gypsies. Before she had gifted him with life in this time. It was that small bit of information that warmed the women of this clan to her. That and the obvious history she held with the men. Cian spoke to her, even smiled. Dageus looked to her for approval. And Drustan treated her as a younger sister, though she aged him by a 1000 years. And though her anger still burned she found herself settling into this home, with this family. It was during a calm night of teas and snacks that a ripple was felt in the air, a whisper. A call for help. The air brought the scent of Prince. Christian. 

                        Christian:

The fields felt colder than I remembered, a dampness and wind that chilled my wings to frozen branches and turned my legs to sludge. Or perhaps it was the half-dead state I was in as I lay a crumpled pile of feathers on the ground. The grass was mossy and poked at my flesh. The jagged rocks mocked my broken bones.

Voices in the distance. They’d heard me. I pulled back on the Sidhbha-jai, on Death. I would be touched by my uncles and watched over by their wives and daughters. I couldn’t risk hurting any of them. Drawing in powers I’d let run rampant was akin to trapping fish with a hula-hoop. I dug down deep, remembering who I was, a man, a druid, a MacKeltar. Pushing down the Unseelie, drawing forth my humanity.

“Dinnae touch me yet,” I barked as hands swept down for me. They instantly retreated at the sharp, gravelly timbre of my voice. I was still Unseelie, and my family knew the danger that posed. They started praying softly, their deep collective voice the only thing I could hold on to. Slowly, the immortal monster retreated back down, deep into my psyche, and the druid came forth once more.

Rolling onto my back, I opened my eyes. It was night, yet the sky somehow had hidden all signs of life, stars and moon cloaked from me. Nearby, Dageus asked who I was.

“Aye, it’s me. Christian.”

                        Winter:

She moved to stand with the wives on the front stoop, her fae eyes catching the movements and interactions of the MacKeltar men. The Prince was hurt, broken but healing. And she ached to be unable to help, to be cut off from her Silvers and the gifts they gave her. “He’ll need somewhere to rest, do you have a bed large enough for man and wings?” The wives looked at her, confusion on their faces. “Christian has come home.”

With gentle touches, she urged the women back inside, gave each a job to do that would keep them distracted as the men brought in the Prince. There was tea to be made, space to make for a large enough and comfortable enough space, and first aid supplies to gather. There was no doubt he would need bathing so the water was to be warmed and cloths brought. As they worked she watched, ready to move should she need. Knowledge of what this Dark Prince could do at the front of her mind. You could never know what one would do when in pain, lashing out at a loved one was a real possibility and when Death was your… other half it was even more dangerous. So she stood and she watched, a bright figure in the darkness. 

                        Christian:

My uncles began to move me, which was a bit of a feat considering my size. I was over seven feet tall now, and each wing stretched almost fifteen feet from sprout to tip. But suddenly I was lifted with ease, moving swiftly across the fields. It was Dageus, his beastly strength able to carry me without a struggle.

A familiar set of eyes appeared above me. My father.

"Your uncles barely escaped in time. The Silvers have been shut, Christian."

"How?"

"Ryodan," Dageus answered without turning his head. 

I was momentarily lost to rage, sub-arctic frost spreading across my body so fast that Dageus yelled out in pain as he dropped me to the ground. That fucking animal had nearly trapped my kin in the Silvers. And for what? To stop me from capturing the hag? She had ripped his and Barrons's insides out once before. They should want her dead.

"GET HOLD OF YOURSELF, CHRISTIAN."

Dageus was screaming at me, my father and the others running towards the castle. If I killed Dageus, he'd come back. The others would not. Power was surging through me, overriding the pain of broken bones. I looked up at him, only to be blinded by a spotlight coming from the porch. It was like starlight and magic. My head cranked around.

"Snaw fae?"

                        Winter:

His power surged, fast and strong. Cold and deadly. She was moving at the first hint of frost in the air, moving around the running MacKeltars to join Dageus where he stood above the raging Prince. She was given a look of disapproval from the Beast, worry darkening his silver eyes. Neither of them knew the state of her immortality with the closing of the Silvers but they did know the weakness of her body. As she stepped closer to Christian she felt Dageus tense, preparing to pull her to safety should he need. But this Prince would not harm her. That she trusted. “You’ll injure yourself further if you continue with this foolish tantrum.”

As she spoke she crouched down to study his injuries, a small wrinkle forming between her brows as she looked at the break in that beautiful, powerful wing. She can only imagine what would have caused his injuries, no doubt caused by Ryodan and his stupidity. “I believe it is my turn now to take care of you.” She offered a small smile and touched the tips of her fingers to his wing, pushing power into the appendage to straighten and heal as much as she could.

“Winter.” Dageus’s voice was disappointed and worry as that push of power had her trembling, weaker. 

“Lift him again Beastie. Or his Aunties will start to worry.” She did not need the hand he offered to help her to her feet but she accepted it. Standing on her own as he lifted Christian into his arms, her hand going to rest on the Prince’s forehead, fingers stroking gently against his skin. “You MacKeltars cannot stay out of trouble, can you.” Head shaking as they walked to the castle to join the MacKeltars that stood at arms on the front porch. 

                        Christian:

It hadn’t occurred to me that Ryodan’s idiocy in sealing off the Silvers might have trapped more than myself and the hag out. The Snaw Fae had come through with me when I rid the White Mansion of its disease. I had assumed she’d returned to her realm when I found my apartment--my bed--empty. But clearly she’d not gone home. Or rather, in a rare moment of selflessness, Ryodan had actually considered the well being of someone else and called her back out before trapping her inside.

Her touch on my crippled wing cooled the burning ache, a soft /click/ the only indication that the bone had been set by her hands. And then Dageus once again was moving me towards the large estate. As her fingers slid into my hair, my eyes closed. Exhaustion and darkness overtook me, and I let myself drift away knowing I was safe. I was home.

Some time later my eyes drifted open, and I immediately knew where I was. There was a large chamber on the second floor, the only room with ceilings high enough and walls wide enough to contain my Unseelie form. Mattresses and blankets had been stacked together side by side, and by some miracle no part of me was touching the cold floor. A fire was roaring in the oversized fireplace nearby. My wounds had been cleaned and dressed.

I didn’t need to turn my head to see the small fairy keeping watch over me.

“How did you get here, Snaw fae?”

                        Winter:

“Dageus.” She unfolded from the chair she was curled in, setting aside her book and moving to sit on a piece of his makeshift bed. Her hair was pushed over her shoulder to fall against the mattress, bright against his dark feathers. “The Nine were keeping him. And when --.” She trailed off and looked to the fire for a moment, gathering herself. She was angry with Ryodan and the others. With Dagues as well. Perhaps more betrayed than anything else and that hurt, twisted in her chest. 

“I went to Ryodan after you brought me to his world, a mistake. Obviously.” She pulled her gaze from the fire to look down at him, resting her weight on one hand and reaching out with the other to touch a few of the warm, still healing spots on his body. “I’ve been trapped here. Your uncles are going to help undo what has been done.” She did not want to explain the why and what but found it was needed, so she moved to the water basin that rested on a short table. Her motions were slow and careful, her body was weak. Felt breakable and it made her careful in every step and every movement. A cloth was wrung out and brought to him, her hands gentle as she wiped him clean of sweat. She’d already cleaned him of blood and dirt and now washed away the sweat from the fire and his healing. 

“Part of that sickness was carried within me. Brought here, to Ryo..Ryodan’s.” She bit her tongue at the nickname, wrinkles forming on her brow as she took a moment to calm her rage. Her blue eyes were multicolored, sparking with rage and hurt. “My assumption is that is what drove him to do what he has done. Using information gathered from Dageus he has done this but it is not right. He’s done something wrong, upset balance. And now, we wait for the consequences.” Her hands were warm, no longer carrying their natural coolness. “And what trouble have you been in, Druid? To break you so?” 

                        Christian:

I was glad Dageus had been there for the Snaw Fae when Ryodan had failed her. I could have told her that the selfish prick would one day put his own wants above her own, and she would suffer for it. He had taken advantage of her weakened state--one that still seemed to be with her apparently--and closed the Silvers. Cutting off the fae worlds was a dangerous move and I was positive the realms would shift uncontrollably as a result of his hasty, self-serving decision. I scowled so hard my jaw cracked. The Nine never thought of anyone but themselves. Which for a bunch of animals that couldn’t really die, only convinced me further of their pathetic detachment from those that lived in this world.

“My uncle played part in this?” I hissed as the washcloth made contact with my wounds. At least he’d made right and brought her here where my family could protect her from that rodent. And it was becoming evident she needed it more than I’d realized before. The dark disease had left the White Mansion but followed her here. If she had just stayed with me… I could have eradicated it from her, and the Silvers would still be safe.

“I was in the middle of abducting the Crimson Hag when the Silvers closed. It was a head-on collision with her, me and a solid wall of stone.”

                        Winter:

“Splat.” It wasn’t funny but she couldn’t help herself, she’d always had a bit of a perverse sense of humor. It came from being so isolated. She smiles softly before moving to rinse and wring out the cloth, bringing it back and resting it over the slowest healing wound. She’d been slowly working to heal away his injuries, little bursts of power at a time while the others were not there to frown or lecture. These druids, always acting like they controlled the world. 

“Your uncle made a mistake in a moment of weakness and shared a secret I gave him many years ago. I am fortunate he did not share everything or else there would be no turning back from this decision. I’d be stuck.” In a world she did not fit or understand. A world she was not certain she could survive. 

“The Hag will not be happy with you, no doubt she will be searching to seek her revenge. I suppose that means you want the Silvers open just as much as I but what is your plan once you have her there?” She pressed palm and cloth hard to a wound, ice crawling from her skin to his to knit together bone and flesh before melting away for her to wipe up. 

                        Christian:

“I care not for the hag or her revenge. She was nearly killed in the collision, it will take some time for her to heal. When she comes for me, I’ll be ready. Then I’ll destroy her once and for all.”

I’d have to come up with something else now, because there was no doubt that one day the Crimson Hag /would/ enact her revenge. I just had to hope she would busy herself with the Seelie Prince still strapped to her cliffside in the meantime while I came up with a new plan. Clearly baiting her with Unseelie offspring to lure her into the Silvers with me was off the table. I had hoped to use her to discover the King’s secrets. But that may not be possible if we came to blows once more.

DAMN RYODAN AND HIS POMPOUS AGENDA. 

Crying out in pain, I arched up off the bedding, rage no doubt flexing the broken parts of me, agitating the organs and bones that were still trying to mend. The fire nearly extinguished, frost creeping up the walls. If anyone but the snaw fae had been here, they would have frozen on the spot. I was suddenly thankful for her, even if the idea of her canoodling with my parents and uncles scared me.

“How do you know my family?” I swallowed down the surge in emotions and tried to focus. If I encased the ancient brick castle in ice, my whole family would die. Death lingered just below the surface, anxious to come out and play again. I required ample distraction.

                        Winter:

Her eyes fell partially closed as the air turned frigid, fire sputtering in the grand hearth and frost licking along her skin like a lover’s touch. A hum of pleasure purred at the back of her throat and her entire body shivered in delight, the only one in this castle that would feel invigorated or comforted by such ice and power. It gave her strength where she was weakening which meant her eyes snapped with cold fire when he upset the wounds she was taking such care to heal. Her hand snaked up his torso to grip his jaw, once blue eyes now a burning white as she frowned her disapproval. “Cease. I can only do so much when you insist on that bloody temper.” With a sharp swat to his jaw she moved to rinse the cloth once more, muttering about the stubbornness of Scots and Druids. 

“You’re a fool to mess with that thing. She is the worst of my Father’s creations.” Head shaking she sat by his shoulder, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder so it fell down her back and over his wing once more. “Now keep your temper in check and your body still. Or I’ll leave you here to mend on your own.” A pale brow was lifted as she waited for him to unclench and calm, with that brief burst of his power she felt recharged and channeled the flush of power into healing him. 

“Has Drustan never told you of the spell that allowed him to travel time? Or Cian of his times in the Silvers?” She was sure he had heard of her but had not realized. Her life was heavily entwined with this family, first by fate and the rest by choice. “The Lady Winter or… I believe Drustan has a few less flattering names he called me. Ice witch. I suppose.” A soft, musical laugh filled the room as frost spread across his torso at her touch, sinking into his body to knit together organs and re-torn flesh. “Dageus called me his Snow Queen for a time.” That was all she said about Dageus, her mouth tightening at the corners and her eyes darkening to sea blue. She did not know if his mistake cut worse than Ryodan’s betrayal or not. “Your Father and your siblings are the only of the MacKeltars where fate has not deemed to throw us together.” She carefully did not mention him, he she knew. There was very few things in the Silvers she did not watch over or know about and the crashing of a druid into her lands. His transformation. The creatures of the silvers were a gossipy bunch that liked to tattle to her. Their Princess. 

                        Christian:

The swift sting of her palm on my jawline set me straight in a hurry. So did the snowstorm in her eyes, they reached far down to the Unseelie Prince where he was buried deep in my psyche and made the connection that eased his urges. It made me wonder if she was part of the Unseelie prison he’d been trapped in for so long before he awoke in my body. I worked on carefully relaxing muscles and limbs, wings spread wide beneath me. They nearly touched the walls on either side of us. The entire room had been turned into a bed, save for a narrow pathway from the door to the hearth where the snaw fae’s chair sat empty.

“The hag being the worst of the King’s creations is the exact reason why I wish to put her down. Death calls for her, he wants to swallow her whole and bury her memory forever. As do I.”

Before anger could boil up again, I set my eyes on the long trails of liquid silver that spilled down onto the black feathers of my wings. As the snaw fae moved, they washed my injuries in soft kisses.

“Winter…” I whispered softly. I did know of her, and suddenly several things my uncles had spoken to me about over the years slid into place. But what they had described sounded nothing like the fairy creature that sat before me now. Yet, when she wanted to be, she was clearly fierce enough to fit the bill. I had imagined a Yeti like creature, too big for its own body, fur and drool and fangs overbearing any semblance of humanity.

This snaw fae, however, was… stunning. Was it all al glamour? Or was it simply her power and ferocity that gave the child listening to his uncle’s tales visions of a monster?

“I like Snaw Fae better, lass, if I’m being honest,” I drawled softly, bruised and swollen knuckles slipping through the long locks of white that trailed close to me. “Tell me of your time with my uncles.”

                        Winter:

A laugh teased at the edges of her mouth and added a sparkle to her eyes, she’d seen that look before. The look of confusion and awe when someone realised who history. Her name carried weight in both the Sidhe world and the human. The King’s gift of transformation was just that, a gift. She could hide away with ease, with peace. Humming quietly she tossed the cloth into the water basin, watching water splash over the sides before turning her gaze back to him. 

There was recognition in his eyes now and something more. Something Princely and male and when his fingers combed through her pale, starbright hair she gifted him with a wide smile. The gentle tugs left her scalp tingling and gooseflesh raising along her arms. She did enjoy having her hair played with, missed the ladies maids that would brush and braid her hair back when the courts were alive and full. 

“Of course you do. It is the name you gifted me with.” Her tone was teasing and soft. “That is a long history to tell, Christian. I have known your uncles for centuries. Cian the longest I believe as he spent so long trapped within my Silvers.” Regret flashed across her features. “He spent some time with me between wandering the different realms. Though I am not sure what all he remembers.” She turned slightly to take his hand, carefully wrapping his bruised and swollen knuckles in the cool, white strands of her hair. “Dageus and I met before his foray into the darkness and then he stayed with me after. So lost was he to the dark druids I worried his mind would take flight but he found his peace.” As she spoke she left her lips brush against the strands of her hair and the swollen flesh of his fingers, healing him with words and power before letting him go back to playing with the soft locks of her hair. “That Dark Druid stole knowledge from my library and my mind. It is lucky for him that he lost some of his breakable, mortal form with the dark curse. My temper…” She smiles almost sheepishly at him and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He spent time trapped within my Silvers as well but I was not as kind to him as I was Cian. He proved his worth and gained forgiveness with time and then I would go to him for information and with books, I came across in my travels. He keeps many things safe for me.” 

There was obviously more history there than she spoke of, an affection for the Dark Druid that had not dulled even with the turn of time. “Drustan though, he I believe has the most joy and affection towards me.” Her own face brightened as she spoke of the once Laird. “I was able to gift him a curse to pass through time and be with his Lady Gwen once more. Helped him become a modern fairytale Prince, kissed awake by his Princess.” Laughter filled the room like music as she shook her head, hair brushing against his body and wings as she did. “They invited me to their wedding in this time, I watched from the Silvers. Was a lovely affair.” 

                        Christian:

Her tales of my uncles brought peace to my mind. Whenever I felt lost to my Unseelie side, the things that brought me back where memories of my home, of Scotland, of the hills and ancient castles. Of my parents, and my uncles. The tales they told me as a child, adventures too big for this world--which eventually I understood was because they weren’t of this world at all. The snaw fae’s voice entrapped me, eyes unable to move from hers as she spoke of her time with each druid.

It was not lost on me that I was going to have a chapter of my own one day. If she was able to handle Dageus at his most lost, and as the half-beast, he was now, she might just be able to contend with my own darkness. After all, I was of the Unseelie King, and of his Silvers as well. We were pieces from the same side of his chessboard.

She had been there all along. And always would be. Unless…

“Snaw Fae, are you still recovering from the White Mansion? Or is this new delicacy the result of being cut off from your Silvers?” My fingers left her hair and went to her neck, drawing her closer to me. “I need to know with what urgency we are presented.”

Winter:

She let him pull her closer, moving so her body was curved like a ‘C’ around his head and shoulders. The top of his head brushing against her thighs and hips, she carefully rested her cheek against him, tossing her hair so its full length spread across the black of his wings. “Delicacy. That is a sweet way to say weakness.” Her smooth cheek rubbed against his skin absently, teeth catching and pulled at her bottom lip as she watched him. 

“I am of the Silvers, being disconnected from them. Cut off completely. It’s as if a part of me has been cut out, left me unmade.” It was as if she was missing a limb, she caught herself constantly off-balance and off-guard. She wasn’t sure any of them completely understood how she was made, she knew the King had made her from the Silvers as well as Sidhe but not to what extent. “Your uncles believe I am no longer immortal.” Dageus thought she was dying but that was something she’d gleaned from eavesdropping and did not mention now. Not to the Prince who would no doubt injure himself again if upset. “I suppose that means there is some urgency.” 

                        Christian:

"Aye, lass. There is much urgency. The Nine have acted with authority they do not possess. They are not the guardians of the doorways to fae realms. The MacKeltar clan is. My druid heritage is. And I'll be damned if I will let those rodents destroy you for something my uncles and I could have handled. Those bastards nearly trapped my family inside the Silvers. Imagine where we'd be if my uncles hadn't retreated in time."

Ryodan's arrogance had nearly cost us the lives of the few remaining MacKleltar Druids. Dageus and myself were no longer pure, and while our immortality had its perks, we were not as we once were. We needed Drustan, and my father.

Letting out a slow breath before rage could overtake me once more, I locked eyes with Winter.

"I will make sure your Silvers are returned to you, Snaw Fae. The moment I have my strength back, Dageus and I will fix this. And take care of whatever darkness is trying to bleed through to this world." 

[eveniceburns]

Returning to Scotland:

“Druid.” His fingers were at her throat, gentle and soothing as he cleaned the sweat from her skin with a freezing cloth. She knew that touch, knew that scent even if it had gained an edge of the beast. For a moment she was in the 1300s, laughing as she was danced around a room full of smiling soldiers and townsfolk.

“Winter.” There was relief in the tone of his voice that was almost masked by the deep, reverberating timbre. It pulled her from the memory and forced her eyes open to look at those rugged features, the gleaming silver eyes that were full of worry and regret. He had done something.

“What trouble have you found this time Dageus MacKeltar?” There was a teasing in her voice but a seriousness in her face as she moved to sit up, struggling with the simple task of moving her limbs. It was in that moment of weakness she remembered the darkness. The sickness that infected her home. Infected her. But this is not the place she came, this was deep underground. More so than even Ryodan’s rooms below the club. Her limbs were forced to cooperate and hold her up as she sat, arms propping her up as she glanced around what seemed to be a dungeon turned guest room. “Have you kidnapped me, Druid?” Her eyes cut toward him. “Again.” Their history mapped the 5 centuries he had been around, more so than any of his Kin. Even Cian whom she spent a 1,000 years watching and interacting.

“Aye, lass. For my wicked ways.” The joke was flat, he gave it no effort as he stood from his crouched position to return the cloth to the basin. “Again.” This time there was a hint of amusement but his face remained hard and regretful as he turned to look at her. “The Nine went on without you.” She could tell there was something else he wished to say but he seemed lost on words, not something she knew him to worry about. “You brought along a house guest for Ryodan when you returned, Winter. They’ve gone to handle the mess.” Lie. Or, a half-truth. Her eyes narrowed at the tower of a man and her lips pressed into a thin line. She disliked being told falsities. Whether they were partially true or not. Grunting with the effort she pushed up and off the cot to stand on legs that wobbled and almost buckled beneath her, it was him stepping towards her that straightened her spine and locked her knees. Pure stubborn and anger. Normal emotions around the MacKeltar brood. Bullheaded Druids who believe their word rule. Foolish men.

There were stairs leading up and then a ladder leading further up, escape. One she took slowly but surely, ignoring the large man that hovered beneath her like some overprotective nursemaid. Her anger gave strength to her weak body and fired the will that leads her up the impossibly long tunnel ladder to what she could identify by smell alone as the home of Barrons. There was no love lost between her and Jerricho. A tension that came from her disapproval of the way he kept his son and loud, destructive arguments that unfolded because of this disapproval. Her anger grew. This was not a place she was welcome or ever wanted to be. Yes this, this is where Ryodan had left her? With a Dark Druid turned beast in the underground confines of another Beast’s lair. Her fae eyes darkened and her long, silver hair slipped over her shoulder as she dropped her head, like a bull ready to charge at the first hint of red. She was tired, angry. Worried. And not in the mood for Men moving her where they please. As if she was property to be picked up and placed. With a snap of her teeth, she tossed back her shimmering hair and moved towards Barrons’ office, she had given him a gift once. A long regret she now applauded herself on. The silver she had given him would carry her home, away from this. Away from being left alone when vulnerable. When sick.

The silver stood dormant behind the large tapestry, its surface smokey with age and dark from disuse. It must have been quite some time since Jerricho had traveled to the silvers, unleashing his beast to run free in her realms. There was barely a glimmer of her home here, how wasteful. With a wrinkle between her brows and her full mouth pursed slightly in concentration she touched a hand to this Silver, stroked her pale fingers over its cool surface and tapped. Waited. Inhaled deeply and pressed her entire palm to the surface, pushing power forward gently. CRACK. Her hand jerked back and she stumbled into the arms of Dageus, blue eyes round with despair and her mouth parted on a woe-filled exhale as this beautiful, old silver cracked slowly. Steadily. She reached a hand out to touch the puzzle of pieces but was pulled away quickly as it broke apart and rained down on them and this room. A wail choked in her throat, the sound twisted and broken like the silver that crunched beneath their feet and stuck to their hair and clothing. Breathing hard, adrenaline rushing through her veins to return her strength as she pushed from Dagues to run for the stairs up to the hall. Another silver rested here, Barrons’ way in and out with ease. It too rested dormant and dark, fracturing under the gentle touch of her fingertips. Closed to her. Closed to all. She felt it like a stab through her heart, the separation that made her weak. The fatigue that was her very soul split into pieces and fighting to pull everything back together. She could not go home. She could not return. She was stuck. Here. Here where her body grew warm and weak. Mortal. Oh, Danu save her.

------ 

Her anger cost her. It drained the strength from her body and had her collapsing on the carpeted floor of the hall. He was not there to catch her this time and if he was smart would not have tried. She was ready to claw his eyes from his face and peel the skin away from his skull. Her eyes near spit with rage, flames of blue and white licking out over the pale, shimmer of her skin. “This was their problem. What they ‘dealt’ with.” Her voice was cold, hard. Pure ice as she aimed her ire at him. He who allowed this. Did nothing to stop it. “You Druids know how to do this. Did you help? Keep me here, out of the way so the closing was possible? Did you plan this? Send that sickness to my home to drive me out? Away?” Hissing she pushed up to her feet, hand reaching for the small, shattered silver and letting it cut into the flesh of her palm. Let it bleed her. “Did you do this MacKeltar?” 

Her body might have been weak but she was still power, pure and cold and with each word she hissed the air grew colder. Ice forming on the wallpaper and creeping along the hallway floor, it edges towards him, dangerous. Deadly. But he stood his ground, bowed his head. “I spoke this curse but I did not plan this. In my moments of weakness, I gave away enough to cause this. And I will bear consequences.”

Her roar of fury shook the earth beneath their feet, split the walls around them and let ice press in sharp and deadly. He was trapped. He didn’t care. And it just infuriated her more. “There will be no punishment for you Dageus MacKeltar. Not to you. No, you will fix this and if you do not it is your beloved Wife and family that will suffer your actions. And you, now Immortal, will live with it.” There was a heaviness to her words, a promise that was spoken not just to him but to Danu herself. To the Goddess and Gods of their people, to the King and his Queen. An oath of blood that he could not deny. And with the weight of that on his shoulders she collapsed, features worn and hollowed. “Get me home, Druid.” 

He was hers now, chained by a curse made of fury and desperation and he could not deny her. Would not. This woman had done much for his family and his repayment was secrets that would ruin her home and kill her slowly, painfully. Walking through the field of ice structures left his blood on the floor but still, he moved towards the collapsed Sidhe. He would see this fixed. With the help of his brothers and clan. He lifted the woman into his arms and moved down the hall, towards the garage exit where he knew the Nine kept vehicles and weapons. Both of which he would need to return them to MacKeltar land. 

[eveniceburns]

Ryodan and Dageus

Her silver hair fell over the side of the bed to trail on the floor, almost glowing in the darkness of the underground space. It drew the eyes of the men that stood within the space, their voices soft as they spoke. One was heated, irritation clear in the hollow tone but there was hard-won control there. As if the voice’s owner didn’t quite trust himself with an emotional reaction. The others were calm with an undertone of urgency. They had a plan to execute. Now. There could be no waiting, not in their minds. Not with their assumptions. They did not need the third man, did not want anything but his knowledge and even that he had given when feverish and though dying. Now they wanted details but did not think they needed them. They wanted to cover their tracks, had learned to be hesitant when playing with the mystical. But they couldn’t afford to wait for this stubborn Scot to see the need. His voice shook with controlled rage, his fists creaking with the how hard he clenched them. She would not appreciate his part in this. And with that pale form lying on the cot that had become his bed these last months, he couldn’t help the twist of guilt. He could not stop them, had not left this place. Because of them or himself, he had never truly tested. 

Ryodan’s eyes were cold when he looked at her, any emotion he held for the Fae hidden behind blank, silver eyes. “It’s going to happen Dageus. Whether you agree or not. We have the information we need we only ask for clarification so we do not do damage to this world.”

“But you care not for their world. For what your actions will bring.”

“We’ll be stopping something far worse from happening, here. Would you lose these people and these lands for them?”

The sharp edge of his jaw flexed as his teeth slid together in a sick grind of bone against bone. “And if it kills her?” 

“I will not make a decision for one being. Not even her.” Those cold, silver eyes cut towards the silent third party. Jerricho. Who made decisions colored by his affections towards Mac. Giving them all more trouble than needed. “This is what is best.” He moved silently, more beast than man though he would say the opposite. 

“Because you say?” The man did not hesitate at the Druid’s words instead he motioned for his brother to come. The nine would stop this darkness before it slipped between worlds. They were given knowledge, nuggets of information the Dageus whispered and shouted. Things Cian had told him, that the thirteen dark ones had filled his mind to near overflowing. And when Dageus changed, when he thought death near they plucked information from his mind. Used him. This was the reason for his change. For his exile to this underground prison. “You’ll fail this world. This is not the way.” 

He was left with her, the little snow queen. She had touched near all of his family. Been companion to his father, teacher to he and his twin, and even companion to Cian when he was imprisoned in the Silvers. Now he heard whispers of her interaction with Christian. The world had seen fit to give the Mackelters this winter guardian and he would see her protected. He waited hours for her to wake, watched her fever and fight though the darkness she had carried with her was gone. This was her connection to the Silvers, the very essence of which the King had created her. And when the Nine’s cobbled together to plan and curse shuddered through this world, the silvers, and into the next, he watched her heart stop and her light fade. Felt her disconnect from the source of her life, soul, and home. He was darkness, cursed by the most evil of druids and their infinite knowledge. He was twisted, an abomination of a druid. Beast and whatever else he could call himself. Certainly not human. Not balanced with this world or the next to be a true druid but he had wisdom and power. Both he gave to her. Found her light stretched to the center of Dublin where the Nine stood in front of the Silver -she- had gifted them. Old, polished, and beautiful now a shattered, burned husk that fairly dripped with magical residue. They had set of the equivalent of a magical nuclear bomb. It was too dark to see what damage they inflicted. The silvers too damaged to see, to know anything but their inactivity. 

He drew what life he could from this place she had called her home away, teased what magic he could from the shattered remains of this ancient silver and pulled it back as he returned to his physical form. Tired and saddened he gave offering to this Winter beauty, offered what he could draw from her homes with a bit of his own life. Less than what he owed her and then he prayed.

[eveniceburns]

Post SL 1 with Christian

The Prince was gone, his place a buzz of his lingering energy and the excited hum of the silvers. Reaching for her, whispering to her. It pulled her from unconsciousness slowly, easily. She was stretched across the gargantuan bed and twisted in the soft, cool sheets. There was no comfort to be found in this bed or this place, she was heated and wrung, the ache of her head pulsing through her bones. With no Prince to keep her in place, she slipped from the bed with her eyes slitted and her hand out to find the wall, bare feet shushing across the floor as she blindly followed the whisper of the silver in the kitchen. It urge her forward, guiding her so she need not open her eyes and when her fingers brushing the cool, liquid surface of the silver it rippled and welcomed her. She could have used any of the silvers in this home, they all brushed against her mind. Whispered devotion and love, would transport her anywhere she wished but it was easier to use one that was already created for her travels. Easier when she was tired and weak. She did ask for one change. Her mind on one place she wished to go.

The world rippled around her as she took the steps down into the lair of the Nine, her head stuffed full of barbed cotton and her throat clenching in a fight against her stomach. The scent of the damp stone flashed colors in her mind and tastes on the tip of her tongue. Her world was off-kilter and she was disconnected. Ill. He was there at the bottom of the steps, waiting with a frown in his eyes. He was dark, soothing, tasted of rain and gunmetal rage. It was familiar, comforting and when she fell into him her brain settled for the moment and her body stopped its internal fight for a few blissful moments before the ache tightened at the base of her head. Pain ripped through her brain and stole away her thoughts. Left her blank and empty. Was she weak from her time in the Mansion? Her time haunted and twisted? Or was she punished for running from her home? He lifted her into his arms and her head dropped as the world spun, stomach almost revolting at the dizzying movement. “Ryo... “ He shushed her and brushed his mouth, warm and dry, against her temple. The touch was soft and rose, scenting floral and fresh while bursting like citrus on her tongue. And for the briefest of moments, she wondered what the Druid would taste like, scent and feel like when her mind was tormented and misfiring. She thought of his human eyes and his Prince’s coldness, could almost imagine the protection of those wings as Ryodan carried her to his bed, placing her on sheets she had chosen so many years ago. His large, sword calloused hand resting against the sweat dotted skin of her forehead before he slipped away with garbled words. She did not understand the words, the pain finally washing over her brain and through her body but she knew he would not leave her alone. He never did, not here. Not when she came to him. 

--------------------

The darkness lingered, it clung to the recesses of her mind to rear its nightmarish head as she slept. Her body was dotted with sweat and her pale skin was flushed with fever as she tossed and twisted in the silk sheets of Ryodan’s bed. The man lowered the temperature of the room and brushed icy clothes across her skin to offer comfort but still, she would not settle. Could not pull herself away from the nightmare that held her mind. He lay with her, her fingers bruising him, her nails tearing at his flesh. His large hands left their own marks on her pale skin, marks that refused to heal in her weakened state. The haunting followed her here, used her as a vessel of travel. Its shadowy fingers creeping along the wall of this space, searching for a way out into the mortal realm. His Beast eyes caught its struggle. He watched as tendrils of darkness pulled from her pale skin, leaving marks of red and purple behind on her skin as it moved to assumed freedom. He and the other Nine would not allow its escape into this world. They had allowed too much to wandering these streets as it was. Here it would be trapped these living quarters were warded and structured, safe places that kept the Fae outside and trapped them inside. She was the only exception. His one allowance. Had he realized this parasite had hitched a ride he would have rid her of its possession before allowing her entrance into his domain. Either way it was trapped now. Again it would seem. With his fingers trailing over the marks it left behind on her skin he had to wonder how the Faerie had kept this thing trapped away. And why? If it was so dangerous they could not allow it passage. His silver eyes pinned the Winter Fae in his bed with a considering look, watching as she continued to thrash. Still haunted. This intruder was nothing more than a scout, there was more and it would use her to find its way here. 

The Nine moved between worlds with ease, not denied by the silvers like others and whether that was her doing or their curse they would never know. Now they walked through the silvers in search of something dark, living, and evil. They could feel its want to escape pushing at the walls of the Faerie realms, could feel its swell and pulse as they searched for the apex. It spread far and wide, seemingly endless. And it was growing. It pulled the very life from the plants, species, and magic of the mounds leaving the grass brown and broken, the trees husks of grey that splintered and showered the ground. This would suck the life from the earth. It couldn’t be allowed to slip between worlds. Couldn’t be allowed near the Winter Fae, the only being made from the silvers. 

------------------------------------

She was awake when they returned but still curled in his bed, shivering and weak. She stretched a hand across the bed to reach for Ryodan as he came forward, fingers curling into the edge of his pants as she offered the rest of his companions a soft smile. They returned her greeting with their own, whispered words and smiles. They each accepted her, knew her, had a history with her for better or for worse. Her eyes fell closed, freed of the clinging curse that had followed her into this world but still tired and out of sorts. Eyes closed she missed the looks that passed around the men, the hint of guilt in some of their eyes and the strain on their faces. They had made their decision even knowing she would suffer the consequences both physically, mentally, and emotionally but it had to be done. For the sake of this world and what they had built. 

A hum purred at the back of her throat as Ryodan ran his rough fingertips over her sweat dotted skin, thumb stroking away the lines of worry on her forehead and combing back her silver hair. “Sleep, my Princess. And rest easy.” She sighed as his lips pressed to hers and his hand moved to cup her throat, collaring her with his fingers until she settled and let her eyes fall closed. She was so very tired, drained of energy and power, feeling restless and lost like she was untethered. 

The others left them to their moment, moving to Jericho’s office to discuss the details, their next steps. The Nine always had a plan to cut off the door between worlds, push the Fae back to the Mounds and close the silvers for good. Something they had considered and developed as a contingency plan when the doors between realms fell and the abominations of the King’s roamed free. As the Princes of both the light and dark stepped into the mortal world. They did not fear, they were immortal and had no reason, but they did consider the ramifications of something larger, more uncontrollable than even the Book or the Princes escaping. That she was the one to bring the first threat of something so empowered was not lost on the Nine. She was part of the silvers, of the very creation of Sidhe. She was a daughter to both sides. The perfect vessel for possession. But without her connection to both sides would this darkness flourish? Could it pass through?

They would not have the time to trap the fae that wandered Dublin and the other cities of this world, the silvers would need to be closed before this darkness was given welcome. Before she tried to return to her home and come back to her lover with another piece of that thing riding shotgun. They couldn’t allow it to enter this world and suck the life from this land, from the mortal people. 

Strong, war calloused hands continued to stroke through her silver hair and over her cooled skin, watching as her breathing slowed and her restless shifting eased. She’d try to stop them if she found out. Would fight them tooth and nail. Could possibly slip into her beloved silvers and stop them. He couldn’t risk it. He waited until he was certain she slept to lift her into his arms, pleased at the way she curled into him. She settled in his arms, breathed easier though fever still flowed in her veins and nightmares still teased at the edges of her mind. With his arms around her, she slept through the walk above ground and across the club floor, quiet for the day as he closed it in preparation. Jericho waited for them at his car, ready to drive them all to Barrons, Books, and Baubles. 

Through car ride and stairs she mumbled and made minute movements of confusion and pain, the fever raging as they left the cool comfort of Ryodan’s underground rooms. Her very bones ached, muscles tight and tense. She struggled to stay asleep, clung to the strong chest and arms that held her, craving a cool touch of winter and the silence of true sleep. And as Ryodan’s steps took her away from the sky and down into the depths of the earth, where light and heat would not touch she calmed. She sighed in utter relief, pale eyes cracking open, the bright white and silver of her irises filling the room with a gentle glow. With a questioning hum, she touched a hand to Ryo’s chest, brow furrowing as he set her on a soft bed that smelled familiar. Dark, cursed. New yet so very old. She knew this scent, remembered it from days of old when the world wasn’t so loud and though it was different it was still the same. She nudged her nose against the pillow and inhaled slowly, mumbling quietly and curling up tighter.

[eveniceburns]

  SL 1 {@turningeternal and @winterblood_ }

                         Christian:

I knew my way through the Silvers so well now that it was like returning to the home my parents raised me in. The streets were familiar, the homes unchanged. You could find your way with your eyes closed.

That familiarity was now a weakness, as I'm nearly at the White Mansion before I realized something was wrong. My mind was busy planning, plotting the demise of the Crimson Hag. I hadn't forgotten the delirium-inducing torment she delivered to me as her captive, the endless slicing of her knitting needles as she flayed my insides and sewed them into her gown again and again. 

She now had a Seelie Prince to torture, a fine distraction that I would use to capture her. With the help of my Druid uncles, we would bring the hag here, to the mansion, where the Unseelie King worked endlessly to recreate the Song of Making. We would cage her here, where I could build on the King's experiments. 

But the Mansion was sick. Dark ink was spreading like wildfire, charring the walls and ceilings. The pristine white was soiled, mud slung across bright marble and glass. My wings exploded behind me, a blizzard erupting across my skin. 

“What are you,” I demanded as my storm blew the doors in, landing in the foyer. It stunk like moss and burnt clay, a torrid humidity that caused condensation to form over my face and arms.

                         Winter:

Irritation itched under her skin and curled in her chest to rest heavy and distracting, she found herself fighting back the darkness. Constantly putting her hands on these walls and walking barefoot through the halls to bring back the glory and light of the Mansion. She was growing tired, scared once more that this haunting would take her. It taunted her with its creak of pipes in her rooms, the stain of her blood that would not be removed from the marble. She did not sleep. She did not leave. She wandered these halls leaving behind a glisten of ice and veins of light that spread slowly, barely keeping the shadows at bay. Today they reached for her, pulled at her silvery hair and cut at her skin until her jaw hurt from the grind of her teeth. Her head aching from the tension. She was crouched with her knees to her chest and her long, shimmering hair a curtain over her face, a bright train of light and beauty on the blackened floors. It was here she stayed when the Mansion shuddered, vibrating under her feet as a storm of wind and snow blew through the foyer to meet her in the library. That voice, she jerked up, the most ungraceful she had been in centuries and moved to the door of her space to stare. The Druid. The cursed. Her gaze stayed on him, shuttered of the curiosity and emotion she felt at seeing him again. In this place. She hesitated in speaking, watched him instead, knowing she was a beacon of light in this haunted place, unable to hide. 

                       Christian:

What disease had infected the Unseelie King’s most precious place? It was a living parasite, slowly covering the flawless expanses of marble hallways with black moss. Long tendrils reached for the ceilings and around corners, throbbing with a pulse that set my teeth on edge. A faceless monster, a cancer of darkness that was slowly crumbling the White Mansion. I crept along its edges, boots silent on the once-pristine floors. This was a new creature, something that either escaped the Unseelie Prison or traveled through the silvers to lay waste. But why?

My head jerked around unnaturally. There. Against the abyss of darkness, a tiny snaw-flake shone like a star in the night sky. She held onto the doorway of the south library, a dove perched on the edge of a dead forest. Little ice crystals formed where her hand touched the frame. Her eyes were wild and big, hair untamed as it blew around. The blizzard behind me calmed, as if it knew if it blew too hard the icicle in front of me might snap. But my wings stayed erect, scraping at the sickly walls as I charged towards the bonnie Winter fae. 

She was his victim, the mansion’s demise just a symptom. A way to trap her here, a labyrinth of hallways she could escape to, only to be captured once again around the next corner. This would take more than raw Unseelie power to eradicate. I needed to draw of my Druid heritage. But first.

“Are you hurt.”

                        Winter:

She laughed at his question, musical and dark as a hand lifted to touch the pale length of her throat. The sound was swallowed by the darkness, making it shudder and creep closer but her eyes burned white and frost swirled out along the wall to nudge it back, away from her. It was always trying to touch. With a quiet hum her once more blue gaze, still rimmed in darkness from this illness that possessed them, turned back to him and a delicate brow lifted. She knew this being, had watched him as he changed. Watched him as he was trapped. He had more of his facilities that she thought he would and he was… powerful. She flicked her gaze to those wings then back to his face. 

“And if I was? What would you do about it, druid?” 

She stepped back into her library, where the house still held onto the warmth and comfort it had created for her. Her bare feet skated over the icy ground, gliding to her favorite chair by the fireplace. Here she was safe, here it only creaked and threatened but did not enter. 

                       Christian:

I lingered in the doorway as the snaw-fae slid back into the library, her laugh getting sucked up by the mansion before it could reach my ears. For some reason, the black disease couldn’t encroach past the entrance either. Perhaps the stacks of books held some magic unknown to us both. Perhaps she drew strength from the ancient texts. I wasn’t even sure of this… Winter’s origin.

“I would aid you, lass.”

She did not trust me. With good reason, I realized, as my inky feathers slid through the door behind me and once again reached to touch the walls. Humans were foolish to think we were anything other than monsters. But the element of danger enticed them, and we used it to our advantage. Fae knew exactly what we were capable of, and it was a dog-eat-dog world now that the worlds of faery and earth had mixed. 

But I was an Unseelie Prince. And even with her suspicions, she had to know I alone had the power to eradicate this sickly disease from the White Mansion. After all, I was the final horseman, and nothing was more irrefutable and certain than Death.

I watched her closely, with interest, as she took residence near the fireplace.

“Unless you do not wish for such.”

                        Winter:

She opened her mouth to reply, something full of wit and snark at the tip of her tongue but instead she exhaled a breath and rolled her head against the soft fabric of the chair. Her eyes were tired as they turned back to him, she was so very tired of this fight. Of these nightmares. Of its shadowy fingers scratching at her skin and staining her home with blood and fear. Perhaps this Prince, this druid, could help and perhaps he was worth more than her brothers. Perhaps the humanity still lingered somewhere under that Prince veneer. 

Curling her long legs into the chair she watched him, fingers reaching down to stroke over the wood of the library floors. Her preference, the Mansion’s gift, she touched the wood like she would a loving pet. Gave it a pat before motioning at the door and the man. Being. Prince. Death. She could feel the mansion hesitate before the door to space widened for him and his wings, dark enough she would think they would blend into the nightmare that infected her home but they carried a beauty to them. A light and shine that made them stand out, catch her attention. Lovely. The fireplace sputtered, tossing embers in jealousy and making a soft smile curl the edges of her mouth. She quietly shushed and reached to pet again, praising as her home made room for this visitor. 

“What help do you offer? Going to heal me? My home? Then what do you want? What is your price, Prince?” 

                       Christian:

The Winter fae took residence in a chair by the fire, stroking the floors as if they were a pet. The mansion seemed to know her, even the fireplace responded to her as if in conversation. She called it her “home.” Facts started to line into place now. Utter exhaustion colored her features though, turning a soft snow white into a fading star from the impending dawn. How long had she been fighting this creature? Too long. My fists and wings curled in anger, at the demise of the magnificent White Mansion and this bonnie creature that was part of it. My connection to the King was stronger than ever as I pushed further into the library, trusting the door would continue to keep the disease from spreading within.

I stood over the large armchair she had curled herself into, dark features lit by the soft flames beside us. She appeared even smaller as I stood at full height, body consuming all the empty space around us.

“I have no price, lass. This mansion holds great value and meaning to me. And if you are part of it, then you do as well.”

If she would allow me to, I could carry her out and away from this diseased place. Then I could heal the mansion from the outside with Druid magic.

“How do you keep the darkness from reaching you, is it your ice that holds it at bay?”

                        Winter:

She couldn’t help laughing again this time the sound echoing warmly in the room, music bouncing off the walls as her head shook slowly back and forth. 

“You don’t know who I am.” 

It was a statement, something amused and curious. Granted, this form was not the one taken in front of others, it was a face for home and hiding. Almost her true face. With a soft sigh, she tipped her head back against the arm of the chair and stretched her legs out to hang off the other arm. She was relaxed, not cowed by his size or his darkness. If anything she felt relaxed, protected. A sensation that was strengthened by her connection to the mansion. 

“I am part of this Mansion, of these realms. I am they and they are me.” 

Her lips curled in a facade of a smile, the dark ring of surrounding her iris inching towards her pupil before she blinked, white flaring and ice cracking along the walls and floor. She was touched by this darkness, it mixed with her blood, poisoned her body just as it poisoned the White Mansion. 

“If you are certain you can irradicate this darkness I give you free rein to do so.”

                       Christian:

All the dots connected finally when she explained her connection to the mansion and the silvers. She was a manifestation of their power and purity. This dark disease was a leprosy attempting to infect her body and its otherworldly extensions. Indeed, the beauty of Winter spread, ice covering the floors and walls. Her chill was magnificent, and it reminded me of the blizzard I used to blow down the entrance of the mansion just moments prior.

She was essential to everything I needed. 

“I can save the mansion and your realm, Winter lass. Your ice and mine can hold off the dark beast while I carry you forth. Then my Druid magic will destroy it from the outside.”

I could withstand her coldest winter, and she could absorb mine. I crouched down to her height, elongated arms and wide, open hands at the ready to lift her free.

“May I?”

                        Winter:

Fear slipped into her gaze before she could shutter her expression, the darkness had fought each time she tried to leave again. It punished her for wandering away, trapped her in a place she had always felt free. She swallowed hard before reaching out to rest a cool, pale hand on his forearm she let her fingers brush over the warmth of his skin, tracing veins up to the crease of his elbow and then up to his bicep to hold tight and dig in her fingers. 

The pipes rattled when she slipped her body forward to follow her hand and the walls seemed to creak, Mansion swaying with the force of the shadows moving towards this room. She shuddered at the wound, skin around her mouth and eyes tightening with tension but she made this decision. She curled her arms around his shoulders, legs draped over his arm and her face tucking against his collarbone.

“Quickly please.”

Her breathing had quickened and her body was taut with tension, fear, as well as anticipation. She was so very tired of this illness, of this possession. She dared to hope this corrupted druid would be a savior to her and her home. 

                       Christian:

The White Mansion wailed as she climbed over into my arms as if it knew what was about to happen. As if it was as tired from fighting as Winter was. I drew her close to my body, her slight form chilly and smooth, very much alive but somehow frozen.

“Your ice cannae hurt me, lass, Use it, all of it, whatever you have left.”

I turned, wings drawing around us as we stepped out of the library onto the infected floors of the mansion. The fireplace roared behind us in the library, mourning the loss of its caretaker. The dark beast reached for us immediately, clawing at my feathers as I shielded the Winter fae from its tendrils. Power surged from within, wild arctic winds attacking the sickness, hail and sleet swirling around us as we headed back towards the entrance to the mansion. Inside the cocoon of my wings, it was warm, calm. A spring afternoon on the grassy hills of Scotland. Outside a war was raging, polar and sub-zero, merciless winds battling the mossy tentacles of the blackened disease.

I didn’t need to see where we were going. I knew my way around the White Mansion as well as the King and his Concubine. Each step of my boots was sure and steady, even as my wings were flayed and torn. Soon we would be free of this place and into the Silvers.

                        Winter:

There were tears freezing down her cheeks, leaving lives of silver and blue on her pale skin. Her teeth cut at her inner cheek and her fingers cut into the muscle of his shoulders, heart thudding in her ears. She lost her glamour the longer she rested in his arms, skin a moonlit pale that shimmered like starlight, her hair a frosty white that was threaded through with sparkles of silver ice. Eyes normally a bright, robin’s egg blue now a mixture of winter sky grey, snow-white, and brilliant blue. She had no strength until his steps brought them closer to the doors, to her silvers, she could feel them past the barrier of shadows and evil. Felt it reaching for her, soothing her. She flexed her hands against his shoulders and exhaled out an icy breath, pulling power from her beloved silvers to press cold power outwards, a shield of sorts the pushed back the darkness and gave them reprieve to reach the threshold. 

Another shudder ran through her body, tingling from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. And she could breathe. Clear, fresh air as soon as they were away from the darkness and onto the dried, vine invested grounds that stretched out in front of the Mansion. The silvers shimmered and the air swirled around them like a puppy, jumping to reach its master. She was free and oh so tired. Ready to sleep as she had not for weeks, months, years, however long. But she could feel the soul of the Silvers radiating with happiness and its own relief. Could hear the Mansion keening out for her to return while also expressing relief that she was safe. 

A hand dropped from his shoulder to cover her face, blocking the tears that froze on her cheeks. She didn’t want this Prince to see her weakness but she was overwhelmed by the pulls from all sides.

“The Mansion, Druid, don’t leave it like that. Don’t leave it suffering”

                       Christian:

I wondered if the snaw-fae had passed out from exhaustion as I neared the front doorway to the mansion. But suddenly, nails dug into my shoulder, a shudder from the tiny female in my arms, and an explosion of frigid power so strong that the blast froze me on the spot. I surged forward, wings breaking the ice only to freeze again immediately after. It took a few attempts to get us outside, but as soon as we reached the grounds, the air warmed once more and I could move freely.

The Silvers welcomed us without friction, slipping through realms as easily as water through my fingers. I knew where to take her. One after another, we moved through worlds, until we stepped out into my earthly home. I carried her into my room and lay her on the bed. She was hiding from me, glamor falling away like petals from a dying rose. I stepped back, wings shaking off the snow that had collected during our escape.

“You are safe here, I’ve warded each room individually and independently.”

I turn towards my dresser and dig around in the top drawer, pulling out a chain with a silver charm hanging at the bottom. I tuck it into my pocket and turn back towards Winter.

“I will go and save the White Mansion, lass. That I promise you.”

                        Winter:

Her body curled into the softness of the bed and her hand moved away from her eyes, peeling away the lines of icy tears and letting them melt into the sheets. She missed the caress of the silvers but could not deny the relief from the severed connection from that thing, it had haunted her through the realms. Reached for her through the silvers but here she did not feel its call. Felt nothing but calm and the blessed pull of sleep. 

“But am I trapped here?”

The words were whispered, her eyelids heavy enough that just a peek of color painted color on the curve of her cheeks. She wanted the sleep though she was in an unknown place with a man she knew by watching not by interacting but something, perhaps his protectiveness of her home, made her trust he would return. That the Mansion would be freed of its possession. Could she leave though? Would he be gone long enough for her to rest and then slip away to the one she did know in this realm and did trust?

                       Christian:

Seeing her tiny form on my oversized bed gave me pause. Being nearly seven feet tall meant conventional mattresses were three sizes too small. I had to fashion one myself by hand to fit both my oversized figure and my six-plus-meter wingspan. She was an angel among shadows, curled up against my sheets, eyes heavy and bright hair feathered around her dewy face.

Her question wasn’t one of physicality, of locks and doors, no. It was one of morale. The Unseelie Prince’s answer would have most definitely been /Yes./ You are my possession and not to leave this place---this room--my bed.

But the Druid, the Scotsman, /Christian/. His answer was:

“No, lass. You are not trapped here. No one can get in, but you can get out. Via the Silvers or the front door. If you wish to see Scotland, use the Silver on the first floor. If you wish to escape to Dublin, the Silver at the rear door of the kitchen.”

Now that I wasn’t lost in a foolish semblance of control over everything, I could feel the ache of the mansion through the Silvers. I had been an eejit, too lost in the human world, while the fae one called to me. I wouldn’t miss these symptoms again.

“I won’t return until the mansion is whole again,” I backed towards the Silver that had delivered us, wings closing in to climb through it. “Rest, bonnie Winter.”

[eveniceburns]

The Haunting (Pt 3)

It was there, it crept in the pipes of the mansion, rattled the walls of her rooms, whispered to her at night. It Haunted her, whatever it was. She still felt carved out, hollow in parts of her mind and soul. It slipped into those empty places, infecting her, playing with her. It wanted something. From her? From the mansion? The darkness grew, shadows clung to the corners of the rooms and the cracks of the ceiling. Waiting for moments of weakness so it could pull the light from a room, dampen the world outside and reach for her. The walls heaved and shuddered as it reached from inside, imprints of its hands tearing at the paper on the walls and picking at the cracks it left behind. When she slept it woke her, curving the posts of her bed towards her body, ripping at her sheets and leaving marks upon her skin. Soon she stopped sleeping. Dared not rest. It was waiting for her to close her eyes, waiting to entrap her with its intolerable heat. Ready to burn away the last of her, to leave her ash and nothingness to be swept into its shadows. She was unsettled, unable to keep to the walls of the mansion but unable to truly escape.

She spent days wandering the silvers, desperate to escape the heavy darkness that possessed her home. Her bare feet would settle on the cool, dew covered mounds of Sidhe, her fingers would grasp at the chill of the mirrors. The icy feel of the silvers caressing her skin would soothe and comfort her until her eyes would close and finally she would rest. In sleep, she would return, pulled through the different realms of her beloved silvers and delivered to the darkness. The house loomed on its hill, its shadows creeping across the once beautifully lit grounds and sucking the life from the land. The grass curled and browned, the white sheen of the house rotted and grew vines, dead and dry. It was ruin. It reflected her burnt out insides. Illustrated her fears. She ran from this place only to return again each night she allowed sleep to take her until finally, she stood at its door. There was a darkness in her brilliant, blue and white eyes, it seeped across the circles of color leaving its mark upon her. Claiming her. Calling to her, pulling her back to this once beautiful home until she could fight no more.

It sang when she stepped over the threshold, the shadows parting before her while swinging the doors shut behind her. It wanted to swallow her whole, to taint her light and leave her burning. She felt the whisper of its touch, on her skin and in her mind but she held firm. Clung to the chill at her center, embraced the Seelie light emitting from her very soul. This thing had tainted her home, the walls curled with heat the edges darkened and raining soot down to stick to her silver and white locks, to coat her eyelashes, and stain her skin. Each touch of ash burned, leaving behind marks of red and pink that fueled her temper. She was tired of fear, of anxious energy swirling through her. The blue and white of her eyes flared bright enough to expel the darkness from her pupils. She was a beacon in the darkness, beating back the shadows as she stalked through this place that had become her home. With each step ice dripped and spread across the floor, washing away the soot and shadows, the mansion groaned and shuddered beneath her feet. It rocked sideways then back, its walls expanded out, paper cracking and crumbling, stone crushing to be rebuilt. Renewed. Still the shadows remained, lurking in the corners and creeping along the edges of this home. Waiting. Stalking. Whispering twisted words in her sleeping mind, scratching marks in the freshly renewed paintings and walls. Peeling away her touch piece by piece. Fighting each step of the way.

[eveniceburns]

The Haunting (pt 2)

She knew pain and nothing else. She was nothing within the black but a mind that trembled in fear and eyes that saw into the nothing. It was there, watching her. It took away her body and left her with nothing. The darkness poured into her, stealing her breath, her heart, her body. It wrapped around her insides and squeezed, infecting her with its acidic evil and burning away the cold. It wrenched at her insides, left her choking on her own life and blood. It took her light. Left her blind but let her feel the sticky creep of its hands on her very soul. She burned. Twisted into a wreck of metal. Taken from herself. She was eaten, hollowed out and left to the nothingness. She floated. Lost.

There was light in the nothing, a pricked of brightness that pierced through the darkness and reached for her. The nothingness shrieked, a blood-curdling sound that ricocheted in her head and clung to her sanity. Its claws were within her, it clung as the light pulled her from the darkness. As the Silvers grasped and struggled to pour starlight and moon cold life into the husk of her. Air rushed into her lungs, freezing and lovely, piercing through the darkness that possessed her. She was dragged, out of the room or out of another world, the elements wrapping around her bruisingly hard as the shadows clung to her skin. Ripping pieces of her body away to keep, to feed on. It would not let her leave whole. She would be haunted. Haunted by the souls that screamed from the King’s prison and the memories the Seelie left behind. Haunted by the darkness and the burn of its touch on her soul. Its anger. But she was saved, wrapped in the power of the Silvers and the home she found within the White Mansion. She was saved, from what she could only muse but she was taken from darkness and given light, wrapped in ice and carefully deposited on the marble of the mansion floor. Her blood stained the white and black checker of the floor, it seeped between the cracks of the marble and settled into the bones of the mansion. Curled into a ball, a mess of trembling flesh and blood, she could only lay. Eyes seeing nothing but the horror that had taken her from her home. Her screams echoed in her head but did not slip past her lips. She feared bringing it again. Feared losing what she had left. She was holy, unmade, missing pieces of her very soul to the darkness. There was no safety here. It haunted her. A breath shuddered out of her as she moved, legs slowly stretching out and body rolling so she lay on her stomach with her hands braced to the floor. Her body creaked, bones brittle and muscles raw as but she pushed to her feet, stood of her own volition. The Mansion whispered at her and the silvers sang, they reached out to touch and fill her with comfort. The walls curved towards her and the drapes of the windows reached to hold her as she stepped, one foot in front of the other until she reached the door of her study. She was welcomed by the overstuffed, overly large chair by the fireplace. It opened its arms to her and drew her down, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was worn, had been twisted and broken, had been pieced apart and had not been put back whole. Trembles wracked her body, teeth chattering as panic set in, whimpering she curled into a tight ball. A hand reaching to curl bloody fingers into the fabric of the chair, her tears froze along the edges of the chair cushions. Scared, ruined, and unsure. She was not safe. Was not protected. She could feel its presence here, the darkness mocked her. Tormented her. It was there, just outside the door. It waited. It watched.

[eveniceburns]

The Haunting (pt 1)

The evening started off cool, the mounds dancing a chilled air through the open windows of the mansion so she could sleep comfortable and easy. The Mansion eased silk sheets over her body, tucked around her loosely as she breathed slow and steady. She was mothered and loved in this place, seen as a part of the very essence that made this world and all connected to the silvers. As time passed the chill of the air lessened, a blanket of warmth slipping over the room. It clung to her skin, beading sweat on her chest and throat as she kicked away the sheets and twisted back and forth restlessly. The room grew warmer still, thickening the air of the room and drawing her further away from her dreams and to wakefulness. Her brow furrowed and her tongue slid out, wetting her drying lips as she gasped. The silvers whispered and the mansion seemed to straighten, its walls moving as if drawing itself up and readying for a fight. The mounds sang a cool breeze through her window, chilling the sweat on her skin and giving her a moment of comfort. The windows creaked as something eased them shut, the locks snicking closed as heat flooded the room, banishing the comfort of the silvers. Still, she fought waking and began to roll along the silk of her sheets, searching for a spot of coolness to ease her discomfort. The walls groaned, pipes clanging in protest as the room seemed to shrink inward before. The sculpted and exposed beams of the ceiling reached for her, a shadow of hands creeping along the walls for the mansion shuddered and forced the room to expand outwards. A shriek pierced the air, the echo of pain jerking her from sleep. Her eyes flared white in the darkness as she sat upright and pressed her back to the headboard. The house screamed as a crack reverberated through the air and the beams peeled themselves from the ceiling, leaving behind gashes and cracks in the stone. The wood twisted and darkened, turning to ash as they reached for the walls and scoured claw marks into the painted wallpaper. Bright, hellish red spread torturously slow along the walls. Paper peeling away from the heat and turning to ash that dripped like tears to the floor. She watched as the oil paint, centuries old, bubbled from the heat melted away before turning to ash like the rest of the wall. Her hands went to her chest, rubbing to try and ease the strain and weight as she panted quickly and shallowly, adrenaline and confusion pumped through her as she watched the desecration of her room. The house wailed its agony, the sound echoing within the confines of the room and gaining strength with each extended moment of burning torture. The mansion’s pain and fear pierced her eardrums and delved into her head, twisting anguish through her mind and body. She curled into a ball at the pain shuddering through her and clawed at her ears, unable to draw in enough air in the stifling hot room to add her own screams to the noise. 

The Silvers cried out for her, wind whipping against the windows and the walls of the house, trying to reach inside to protect its Lady. She could feel the struggle of her home, drew strength from that connection and forced herself to crawl from the bed and towards the open door of her room. It seemed to take years for her to drag her body across the meters of space, could have been moments or hours with the irrelevance of time in this place but each centimeter she gained was a struggle. The floor seeming to reach up and clutch at her body, pulling at her clothes and digging marble claws in her skin. She trailed blood as she moved, finally reaching the door and creeping her fingers across the doorway and into the cool air of the hall. As her hand passed over the barrier the door swung shut, crushing her fingers and forcing her hand back. Her body shuddered at the pain, sides rising and falling rapidly as she struggled for air, struggled to rid herself of the pain and breathe. Her undamaged hand slammed against the door, meeting a wall of heat so bright it was like acid across her skin. This time a noise escaped, a high pitched whisper of a sound that fell flat in the suffocating room. Panting in short, sharp breaths she rolled to her back and watched as the ash from the floor lifted into the air, as the light of her room was overtaken by darkness. Fear curled down her back as a laugh crawled across the walls to stroke over her burning flesh, violating her space and mind until she could see in the thick black that was now her room. Until she could see the creature that hovered over her, its jaws opening wide and eyes so evil and deep she felt herself falling into them.  Her body tried to jerk away, heart pounding against her chest and mind screaming at her to look away but she couldn’t shut her eyes, couldn’t turn her head. She was burning from the inside out, the cold and white of her scooped out and fed to this horror. There was a brush of coolness against her cheek, air filling her lungs as her mouth fell open and a scream ripped from her throat.

[eveniceburns]

Two (pt 3)

Her clothing had been cleaned during her time in Ryodan’s bed, her cloak mended by someone’s hand and her boots polished. They were left on the bench at the foot of the bed with a Lilly and a snack of her favorite apples and a far of homemade peanut butter. She smiled at the treat, allowing the soft look in the privacy of this room. Her own goodbye was a small, ice sculpture of a ballerina that danced across the nightstand. This was the way of things, her body sated and her mind finally quiet thus it was time to leave. She dressed in her clothing, twisting the lily into her hair and wrapping her snack into her cloak before leaving Ryodan’s room. There was a place for her here, a mirror of polished, aged silver that shimmered and brightened when she pulled aside the tapestry that hid it and pressed her hand to its cool surface. Her breath caught at the rush of power that welcomed her, the way the mirror shifted and grasped at her fingers to try and pull her in. With a quiet hum, she pressed harder against the mirror letting it wrap around her and carry her home in its comforting cold.

When her feet touched the mossy ground that stretched before the White Mansion she let her eyes fall closed and her head roll back, soaking in the feeling of being home. The warmth left behind my Ryodan’s touch and marks slowly ebbed away until she was once again unmarred, moon-pale skin shimmering with the lights of the stars and her eyes a mix of shadows and blue fire. There was no glamour here, there no thing or person to see. Her mouth tightened slightly and her brow furrowed as dark thoughts pulled at her mind, as the loneliness of home sank into her bones. She wouldn’t be without the Silver, couldn’t survive disconnected but there were few that wander the mounds while the veil between worlds was down. Before she could count on the prisoners to keep her company, to be her connection to life outside the silvers but now even the Hag was free. She sighed out a soft, musical sound before stepping towards the White Mansion, the ground raised up and rolled beneath her feet to carry her closer, faster. It always sensed her moods this place, reacted to her as if it wished to comfort as well as protect. In a moment she was stepping from the grounds and into the Mansion. Céad míle fáilte, home sweet home.

[eveniceburns]

Two (pt 2)

The room was quiet, her soft, even breaths the only sound as he watched her. He’d left her to sleep hours ago, planning to get things done before returning with dinner but he couldn’t keep himself away. Memories of her pale skin, marked by his hands and teeth and the feel of her tight cunt wrapped around his cock drawing him back to his bedroom where she was spread across his bed. He watched her, the steady rise and fall of her back, the way her fingers twitched against the mattress, how her lips parted with each exhale. He was hard already, cock a heavyweight behind his zipper and against his thigh. He was beside the bed in three strides, grabbing the aloe balm from the bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was careful with his movements, not ready for her to wake yet, he poured the subtly scented balm into his hands and let the liquid warm before spreading it over the marks he’d left on her back. Raised welts from his whip and purple stripes of flesh from his cat-o-nine leaving beautiful pictures on her Seelie flesh. He spent an hour soothing the marks before his patience ran out. His fingers traced the dip of her spine down to the curve of her ass, teasing between her cheeks and down to where she was wet and swollen from his rough fucking.

He pressed two thick fingers into her cunt, startling her awake and forcing a moan of pain/pleasure from her parted lips. Her brow furrowed and her face turned to press into the mattress, arms lifting to curl over her head even as she slid her legs further apart and bent a knee so she was spread open for him. He was playing with her, hooking his fingers inside of her and pressing hard at her g-spot before dragging them out. The pain was sharp, it tightened in her belly and made it hard to draw a full breath. She wanted to squirm and whine but forced herself to stay quiet except for sharp, panting breaths that dampened the sheet beneath her mouth. He was stretching her open again, leaving her feeling branded and gaping. Her muscles trembled with the sensations, body weak and tired still from that morning and the night before. She wanted to scream and pull away while also needing to be closer, to have more, she’d cum like this. Just like he wanted, he was playing with her after all and knew exactly what to do to make her squirt over his fingers and hand. She lifted her hips up and pressed back, small movements she couldn’t help as she struggled to breathe through the pleasure and pain. She dug her teeth into her lip and twisted her fingers in her hair as he forced a third finger inside her cunt, a scream caught in her throat and her body seized as she orgasmed painfully. He didn’t even pause, no he twisted his fingers and dug his knuckles into that spot that was so sensitive and so fucking sore until she was sobbing from the feel of it. She shook with the need for more, felt empty even with his fingers fucking into her. She whined, the sound vibrating in her throat and pulled her knees under her so she could fully lift her hips. Her impatience was punished, his fingers leaving her gaping so the smack he landed on her cunt could be felt from the inside out. He gave her five more in rapid succession, leaving her skin red and wet with her own release, still, she trembled for more of his touch. “Ryo,” she squeezed her eyes shut and bit back down on her lip, holding her breath as she waited. It was only when he was on the edge that her vocalizing her need would be rewarded instead of punished. He liked to hear her sounds but not her words didn’t want a Sir or a Master. Just her screams.

He moved, weight shifting on the bed, he moved away and then back, kneeling behind her and teasing his jean covered cock against her sex. His zipper caught on her flesh as he pressed his hips forward, rolling his body forward then pulling back. He kept it up until she was panting again, whimpers escaping with each exhale of breath, it was only then he pulled away, the sound of his zipper hidden beneath the blood rushing in her ears and the pounding of her heart. She reached for him, panic clawing at her chest for that moment of disconnect but his fingers found hers, pressing her hand back to the bed as he curled over her body and drove his hips forward. His groan mixed with her scream as his cock forced her cunt open, she was swollen inside and struggled to relax but he pushed forward, circling his hips and working his cock deeper. A hand pressed between her shoulder blades, holding her down before sliding the hand down to pull her hips up higher, giving him a better angle as he pulled his hips back then snapped them forward, sinking to the hilt inside her wet heat. “Stay.” He squeezed her hand and let go, using one hand to hold her hips where he wanted and the other to keep her shoulders pressed to the bed. He pulled his cock from her cunt slowly, a raw drag of skin against skin that twisted heat and pain inside her, pleasure pooling in her clit. He thrust forward, hips leaving bruises on her skin as he circled his hips and pressed tight against her. Her walls were fluttering around his thickness, tightening until she felt sharp, pricks of pain that melted into sensations of warmth. Her body was heavy with it, the pain and pleasure, she’d cum again just from him fucking her. From his total possession of her body. He was using her for his own pleasure, fucking into her to reach his own release and something about that had her arousal dripping from around his cock. She tried to push up, into his thrusts, dug her knees into the mattress and pushed with the heels of her hands to try and arch even further. He groaned again, feeling her struggle under him and tightening his grip on her hip, moving his other hand up to hold the back of her neck, digging his thumb into her pulse. His cock pressed deeper as he leaned down to drag his tongue over her cheek, cleaning tears and sweat from her skin and grinding his hips against her ass. “Good Girl, loving the way I fuck you.” Her body seized at his words, tightening to the point that he couldn’t move. Could only rock ever so slightly as she came on his cock, his fingers tightened at her throat to cut off her air, his head falling back as he listened to the struggle of her breathing. The gasping cries as she creamed on his cock, her body shuddering and finally relaxing enough that he could fuck into her again. He chased his own release, ready to fill this hole with his cum and watch it drip from her fucked out cunt. Then, maybe he’d give her another few hours to recover before filling that hole again.

[eveniceburns]

Two (pt 1)

“You’re getting blood on my floor Frosty.” She arched a brow and continued through the bodies undulating on Chester’s dance floor, purposefully shaking out her cloak so blood splattered the already sticky floor. The feel of Ryodan’s eyes on her back followed her all the way to the bar, no doubt taking note of the gore that had dried tacky and dark on her clothing, skin, and in her hair. She was in a bar for the fae and mortal, a place of truce, what the fuck did she care about cleaning up beforehand? She wanted whiskey to burn away the taste of death and make the memory of her sister’s lifeless body just a little foggier. She would leave when closing her eyes did not lead to the memory of that once beautiful smile destroyed by the blades of humans. She pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes and let her head hang as she waited for the bartender. She tired of this war, created by the stupidity of emotions and greed. If the fucking Sidhe would stop giving away their memories maybe they’d remember to not repeat the past. Danu Damned.

She grit her teeth and dug her fingers into the corners of her eyes, only easing the pressure when stars of light burst across her eyelids. She was just lowering her hands when a glass pressed to the skin of her wrist and a large hand rested between her shoulder blades, its heat burning through the layers of clothes to give her a measure of warmth and comfort. “You look, tired kid. And like you walked through the shadows to get here.”

It was the Silvers she’d gone through, burying her sister away from prying eyes or thieving hands. She would need to lead this beast and his friends to the site so they would know the new scent so they would know to protect and not disturb. That was the excuse she’d given for leaving her home in the Silvers, that she wanted a drink and to leave a message for the Nine but it was a lie. She’d come for the warmth, craved the comfort of the noise. The silvers were home, their cold nature and shifting realms the place she had lived for centuries now. The place she’d been created and left, too dark but too light to belong anywhere else. But the cold wasn’t a comfort today. Today she felt the ice in her veins, today she felt the cold instead of being a part of it. Ryodan’s fingers dug into her back as if he could sense her thoughts as if he knew her feelings. His hand drifted down her back and then back up, thick fingers digging into the base of her skull and easing some of the tension in her head. She didn’t speak as he worked he squeezed the back of her neck but she did take the drink from him, allowing him to use both hands. It was an intimate moment, something better suited to a private space. But with his hands on her and the whiskey burning down her throat she could forget the crowd around her, could tune out the beat of the music and just sink into the sensation.

One of his hands left her back and reached around, his body curling around her and surrounding her with his heat. He motioned to the bartender and a moment later a bottle of 35-year-old scotch was set before them. As he took the bottle from the bar he slipped his other hand up her back to the base of her skull, wrapping long fingers around her throat as he stepped back. That grip at her throat was loose but commanding, it was his way of asking the question and giving her the option. She already knows where this would lead if she followed him, they had played this game before and tonight she wanted it again. That heavy hand was the collar she wanted, for tonight at least she wanted to give the control away and let someone else make the decisions. She slid off the stool and back into his body, sighing in pleasure as those thick fingers, rough with callouses, tightened around her throat. A shiver rolled down her spine, warmth pooling between her legs as his gaze darkened and he straightened to his full height. “We’re going upstairs, you will leave your bloody clothing at the door and go straight to the shower. I want to see nothing but that beautiful, moonlit skin when I join you. Do you understand?” Her body was already relaxing at the tone of his voice, the promise of pleasure teasing her thoughts away from the horror of tonight. She gave a slight nod, heart pounding beneath his hand and breath catching slightly. “Good Girl.”

[eveniceburns]

One

There was a stillness that came from long winter nights, snow falling in thick layers that blanketed the ground and made you feel as if you were the only one in the world. Here there was fear that permeated the silence, fear of the inevitable, of death. They were alone, frozen in place and surrounded by the beauty of silver ice and snow, forced to listen to the slow plip, plop of blood dripping onto the frosty tile of the operating room. The silence settled into their souls, twisting dark, anxious thoughts inside their minds and hearts until every sound rippled through them like a shot. There, that. The sound of boot heels on tile, only heard because of the forced quiet, and the chilling slide of a blade cutting across marble walls. She was coming.

She was beautiful. A cutting figure among the blood and ice that looked more angelic than demon, her white hair pulled back to expose ethereal features and iridescent eyes. The long, grey cloak that trailed behind her looked like wings ready to stretch out and take her back to the heavens but the black stain of blood on her moonlit skin and the cold rage in her glare spoke of death. Of pain. Those burning eyes fell upon the last survivors and suddenly the screams of their colleagues were echoing through their minds, the pain and fear they felt pressing into the very essence of their beings until they too wished to scream and writhe. But she kept them still, another layer of torture The woman strode past them, releasing them from their torture if only for the moment so she could look down at the woman dead on the operating table.

That cold rage bled away until only anguish marred her features, her mouth trembled as she fought down the need to weep for her lost sister. She wanted to scream, the tear down the very walls of this institute that allowed death to come to the beautiful creature before her but she paused, took a breath, and focused on the pain these humans deserved. She turned her head, cutting a look at the two doctors she had frozen into place and with a hiss of breath she twisted the ice holding them in place to tighten and cut. Once the scent of blood filled the air she turned back to her sister, her hands lifting but hesitating just out of reach before she pressed long, slender fingers to the greying skin of her sister’s cheek. She prayed to the goddess to take the blood now painting her sister’s skin and give life, to bring back the soul and let this heart beat once more. It didn’t surprise her that the prayer went unanswered but it pissed her off. Rage darkened her features once more, the grief pushed aside as she turned to the two behind her. With each step she took towards them the ice tightened, blood pooling across the floor to stain the edge of her cloak and coat the leather of her boots. These humans had taken her joy, had taken the warmth in her cold world and for what? Research. These mortals, too arrogant to understand they were not at the top of the food chain. Too egotistical to understand the supernatural were not meant to be chained and played with. Experimented on. With a flick of her wrist she pulled her short blade from its sheath, Its name was mischief and it was given to her by the king of the Red Caps, the curved edge making it perfect for scalping. A cruel smile curled the edges of her lips, the edges of her fangs baring as she slid her fingers into the hair of the first doctor. She combed her fingers through his hair, scratching delicately with her bloody nails and giving a teasing tug. “Don’t forget to scream for me.”