#Fae Court

[janjan-the-ninth]

The last thing you see moments before you are whisked away to fae court

[laurasimonsdaughter]

If you were to make up fae courts besides the standard ones(Seelie/Unseelie and seasons for example), what would you choose? I was thinking of this cause A Court Of Fey and Flowers(the dimension 20 series) had a bunch of them(court of Craft, Wonder, Seafoam, Goblins, etc) and I thought it'd be a cool prompt.

What a fun question! I have so many complicated feelings about fairy courts and I honestly loved Dimension 20's approach! Because what by now is seen as "the standard courts" (Seelie/Unseelie, Summer/Winter, Light/Dark) are all quite modern inventions. So it really doesn't take anything away from the faerie of it all to change them.

I'd actually like to go one step further: if I was making fairy courts, I'd make them small, and local. Because I personally think that vibes better with the folktales that I know.

The concept of fairy courts is primarily based on Scottish folklore. But it was common practice there to call fairies "seelie" far before they were ever described as "unseelie". Which makes sense, because you wouldn't want to offend the fae. (Apparently in the Scots language "court" could also just mean "group" or "company", which would make "seelie court" not unlike "fair folk".)

On top of that - although there are definitely mentions of fairy queens and kings, especially in ballads - many Celtic folktales refer to a specific group of fairies living together in one mound as a "court" without implying that this is The Court that controls all other fairies. Their leader is sometimes called king or queen, but sometimes just lady or lord. And this concept shows up in Germanic folklore too, with elves and dwarves and witte wieven.

So if I was to make up fairy courts for a story they'd be very specific:

The Alder Court

The Wetland Court

The Court of Crown Hill

And those would probably just be the human names for them. The members of the court would be more likely to introduce themselves as "follower of my lady queen, ruler of all under the hill."

Alternatively, if I was going full secret urban fantasy world, I'd probably align the courts with the specific type of fae. (Which is an impossible task, but in urban fantasy you can pick and choose as you like.) So there'd be a Brownie Court, a Pixie Court, a Court of Wisps, etc. And all fae belong to that court, though spread far and wide, would answer to that ruler. I think that would be very fun, especially for the types of fae who deal a lot with humans.

[sillygoofyqueer]

MDZS AU where both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are Fae from different courts (Winter and Summer, maybe? You know I love my symbolism((literally no-one knows that)). Maybe Wei Wuxian is taken into the Autumn court by the Jiangs, but he is of the Summer Court, which was maybe overthrown by humans), but they absolutely misidentify each other all the fucken time. Like, they both mistake the other for a human on numerous occasions, and it's just internal monologues of 'How the hell did a human get so far into our forests? Why hasn't it been eaten or attacked by any monsters? It looks arguably handsome - for a human, of course. Ugh, what is it even looking for?' and it's always like, super Fae related things. For instance, Wei Wuxian is sent into the territory of the Winter Court to retrieve this ancient Summer Court artefact from the ruins of the old palace of the Winter Court, and Lan Wangji bumps into him when he gets almost immediately lost, begrudgingly helping this human because he wants Wei Wuxian out, and Wei Wuxian is just like..huh, I didn't know that the Winter Court kept pet humans...

Neither of them have seen humans, by the way. They're relatively sheltered on that part - Lan Wangji because he doesn't care for humans or anything to do with them, and Wei Wuxian because...well, his court was overthrown by jealous humans. He's a Summer Court Fae, what would they do if they got their hands on him?? He's reckless, but not that reckless. So they see each other's unnaturally gorgeous features and just think that's the norm for all humanoid creatures - as well as the pointed ears, because the books don't mention anything about curved ears. The features that differentiate the different Courts are what make them think that the other is a human. Winter Court definitely hold more Lan features, with light coloured eyes and impossibly pale skin, their black hair the only way to pick them out in the snow of the Court. Maybe they even have white hair, who knows? Lan Wangji has been around Fae from the Spring and Autumn Court, which is why he assumes that Wei Wuxian is a human - he's never seen a Summer Court Fae, considering they're...all dead. Summer Court have darker skin tones, and darker eye colours (because people with brown eyes can handle looking at a lot more light than people with blue eyes and such), but it's been so long since anyone has seen a Summer Court Fae that it's hard to pick out any distinctive features aside from rumours and conflicting stories from the other Fae Courts' elders. The Autumn Court is quite possessive of the Summer Court Fae in their grasp, to the point where most people even within their Court have no idea Wei Wuxian even exists, let alone other Courts. So, Wei Wuxian has only seen Autumn Court Fae, meaning he just assumes Lan Wangji is a human because he doesn't recognise the Fae's features to be Autumn Court.

[billfrancois]

Working on some new OCs~

[rachel-sylvan-author]

"The Goblin Emperor" by Katherine Addison book recommendation

Thank you @sophie.breathes.books for introducing us! This was such a beautiful, healing experience! I love the book - I love the characters - I love the way it made me feel when I read it yesterday, and I love the warm glow of comfort and peace I still feel from it today. ❤️

[israaverse]

[OC/FAE] Aedlyn's paramour, Doireann :]

[captainkon0]

The Fae court splash art from LoL truly inspired me for this little project with the Ineffable Wives! With Aziraphale as a Seelie and Crowley as an Unseelie

[helenaheissner]

Ranking the Dresden Files: #12

[luna-kipp-themothauthor]

When you think you're reading another standard M/M fantasy romance, but then things suddenly start getting freaky with a plant monster.

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

The novel is coming soon my lovelies 💖

[space-cops]

The throne of the Blackthorn Court in disarray after the archfey had an episode of rage and despair that was strong enough to alter her state of being. With a desperate prayer and an altered Plane Shift spell, her twin brother forced the archfey momentarily into the realm of the goddess Myriona. Holding her in the mirror portal, the goddess drew the sorrow from her and began healing the court from the damage she had caused.

[a2zillustrations]

When a golden retriever is friends with an angry wolf

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (6)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Hahahhh I finished it finally! I love my boys so much, they fill my heart with so much joy :;) @annablogsposts this obsession is all your fault! I need to make a masterpost for this... anyways, ENJOY!

*~*~*~*~*

They rode in silence back to the Kingswood as one of the soldier’s had called it. Cosimo had scrunched his nose up at that name. How can a woods be owned by a King? Nature was its own master. Besides, there wouldn’t be Elfbows there if the original inhabitants of the forest were humans. No, Cosimo had the sneaking suspicion that this was the forest Henrik had told him about in his story of Niko’s father.

Cosimo remembered his tutor, one of the Elder Elves, telling him about the histories of their people. How they would live in harmony with nature, together as one, both giving and taking in equal measures. How the humans would come like an invasive species and only ever take… upsetting the balance of the earth to build their soulless cities and castles and nature be damned. Animals be damned.

“Nothing is sacred to humans, Cosimo,” Ludwig had told him. “They are selfish creatures. They would sacrifice anything to satiate their own greed.”

Cosimo’s eyes had gone wide at Ludwig’s cautionary words. He spoke them with such hatred that was foreign coming from the teacher’s mouth. Ludwig was patient, kind, compassionate — so hearing him speak with such malice, it struck a chord within Cosimo that echoed now in his mind and his chest. Jarring, eerie and wrong.

Was he making the right choice in leading the humans to the boy that Cosimo was trying to protect? Was there any way he could possibly distract them? Sneak off and find the boy and the fox and run?

Nestor’s laugh made his chest ache, as he floated into the memory without Cosimo’s permission. Nestor and his happy-go-lucky grin. After he heard Ludwig’s take on the humans he joined the conversation, leaning down heavy on Ludwig’s shoulders. Cosimo remembers smiling as the Elder rolled his eyes.

There was only one elf who would do such a thing.

“Ah, Ludwig. You are scaring the boy.”

“I am merely teaching,” Ludwig said, the hatred gone from his voice as he straightened his spine and grabbed Nestor’s arm lifting it from around his neck. “You should know better than to interrupt.”

“Always good to be a little nosey,” Nestor said, lifting his eyes to meet Cosimo’s and winking at him. “Eh, Cosimo?”

Cosimo’s smile grew into a cheap copy of Nestor’s mischievous grin. “You should know better than to fill his head with such nonsense, Nestor. Not all elves have the freedom to be as carefree as you.”

“If he’s learning the bad he can learn the good of the humans too, no? About their music? Their art? Their love, Ludwig.”

“The boy is but a child,” Ludwig hissed, glaring at Nestor. Cosimo swallowed as Nestor’s smile fell from his face. Ludwig stood to his full height, turning his body slightly to stare at Nestor down his crooked nose. “It is better he be cautious around humans than seek them out for no good reason.”

Cosimo’s heart pounded in his skull but he couldn’t just sit by and watch Nestor be scolded. “I would never do such a thing, Ludwig.”

The two elves turned their head to look at Cosimo who was standing now too, head high, chin up, determined. “I heed your warning. You’re my teacher. I want to learn from you, and from your experiences. What reason would I have to leave court in search of humans? I have everything I need right here.”

Ludwig cocked an arched brow at Cosimo’s words, a begrudgingly proud tightness wound his jaw. “You are too smart for your age, Cosimo.”

“That’s because he has an ancient elder schooling him,” Nestor said with a cheeky laugh, slapping a hearty palm onto Ludwig’s back. “I’m heading out on a reconnaissance mission today.”

“To the humans?” Cosimo asked, ignoring the scolding glance Ludwig sent his way.

Nestor scrunched his lips up. “Sort of. More like, seeing them at a distance. If they’re close to the court we can disguise it better or hide it well, make sure the humans don’t disturb us and just walk past the court.”

“You should go do it then,” Ludwig told him. “Let me get on with my job.”

Nestor hummed sagely, nodding in agreement. “Yes. I agree. Cosimo remember to frown when he speaks so he knows you take him seriously.”

Cosimo laughed as Ludwig shoved Nestor away playfully in reply. “Get out of here.”

“I’m gone.”

Cosimo stared after Nestor who waved before disappearing from sight. Ludwig settled back down, sitting once more and gazed up at Cosimo. “What is it, boy?”

Cosimo swallowed, snapping himself out of his daze and sat back down across from Ludwig. “I just wonder what reconnaissance missions would be like.”

“If Nestor’s anything to go by, clearly it drives you mad.”

Cosimo smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean being that close to humans.”

Ludwig’s gaze was heavy on Cosimo’s face, studying the young elf’s features. His high cheekbones and shrewd eyes, always busy, always calculating something behind them. It wasn’t the first time Ludwig had been left out of Cosimo’s musings, but even so… he wanted to know what the boy thought. How his mind worked. But that wasn’t Ludwig’s job.

“We resume,” is all Ludwig said. Cosimo blinked and he was staring at Ludwig, focused once more. He nodded and shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together in front of him. “We resume.”

The memory left, leaving a sense of uneasiness in its wake. Maybe Ludwig was being over-cautious, sometimes he was like that.

And the humans only ever treated us with kindness, a sarcastic voice hissed in the back of Cosimo’s mind. Take off the hood and see their true colours.

Cosimo ignored the voice and focused on the task at hand. They were amongst the trees now, coming close to the camp. Maybe another twenty minute ride.

“Everything okay, Cosimo?” Henrik asked. Cosimo took a deep breath. Everything seemed too big right now. Too much for him to grasp between his fingers and wrestle under his control. All he needed to do was find the boy. Once he saw him, he would be fine. Everything will be fine.

“I just want to find my brother,” Cosimo told Henrik, careful to remember that’s what Cosimo had told the King and his right hand. A lie. He had told them a lie, and when they found out… what would they do to Cosimo then?

When they arrived at the camp Cosimo’s heart jumped into his mouth, remembering the events that happened here yesterday? Today? That brought him back here. How Henrik was the one who kicked him to the ground and kept him there. Cuffing him, bringing him to the palace… it turned Cosimo’s stomach.

Henrik climbed off Ebony behind him, and Cosimo lifted his leg over the saddle to slide down himself beside Henrik. He brushed the hood back off his head, the earth under his feet feeling like a sigh of relief. Nikolas came over to the pair as someone led Henrik’s horse away to be tied off.

“Well, Cosimo,” Nikolas said with a sweeping gesture. “Lead the way.”

Cosimo nodded, searching for the stream he had crossed. He prayed that nobody had been through here since he was. No elf, nobody who came looking. Let the boy be there.

He crossed the stream first, then looked over his shoulder to the King and his right hand. He straightened himself, shoulders pulling back, making himself taller before speaking. “Would it be okay if I went and retrieved the— my brother before I introduce him to all of you? He might be frightened.”

Nikolas tilted his head slightly, regarding Cosimo with his discerning green eyes. Nikolas pursed his lips. “No, Cosimo. I think it’s best if we find him together. What if you get lost?”

Cosimo scoffed. “I’m an elf. I can’t get lost in the forest.”

“All the same,” Nikolas said with a kind smile and a little shrug. Cosimo swallowed and faced forward again, gathering his discarded water container and walking up the slippery bank to the trail on top. He was so close… he could run, the likelihood of the humans catching him was slim. He could disappear in the trees, come out when they had given up looking for him. The boy would be safe in the Elfbow.

Unless the elves started looking for him too. The thought unsettled him more, in which case he would be better off with the humans. So Cosimo planted his feet even though he wanted so badly to run. He had to remember who he was, he wasn’t some scared boy. He had to trust his instincts, they got him this far. Everything would be fine.

“I could do with your long legs,” Nikolas said to Cosimo with an airy laugh as he climbed the bank.

“Or maybe it’s the lack of shoes,” Henrik mused, nodding at Cosimo’s bare feet. “It gives you more grip.”

“Perhaps you humans should whine less,” Cosimo said with a smirk, which only grew when the two humans full attention was on the elf. “It seems to weigh you down more, makes you slow.”

Henrik laughed his deep heart chuckle, and slapped Cosimo between his shoulder blades playfully. It was Nikolas who spoke next: “You lead the way from here, Cosimo. Hopefully we can find your brother before dark.”

Cosimo’s smile dimmed a bit at the edges as he bowed his head slightly. “Of course. This way.”

They trekked in silence back the way Cosimo came, the trees and trail familiar, the forest floor almost guiding him to where he needed to be. Cosimo prayed that the boy be okay. That he’s safe. That the elves didn’t find him and take him back to court or worse.

When the elfbow came into Cosimo’s sight he took off into a run. “There!” Henrik and the King’s footsteps thundered behind as Cosimo ran through the thick coat of leaves with ease. He craned his neck around the tree, chest heaving to see the fox in the nook, cuddled up beside the sleeping boy. Sweat soaked hair clung to the boy’s forehead and he looked far more pale than the last time Cosimo had seen him.

“Cosimo?!”

Cosimo pressed his forehead against the elfbow under his palm and closed his eyes in relief. Thank you. I’m here to take him again.

“Cosimo?” Henrik called from faraway. “Where are you?”

Cosimo’s eyes shot open. Humans couldn’t come into the sanctuary of the elder trees. Elfbows served elves and were almost sacred in their protection. After the humans started destroying forests to clear way for cities and villages, the elder trees made a pact with one of the first elves: that if the elves protected the tree then, it would serve as protector for future generations. Or so the story went.

The court elders always made a point of telling Cosimo that if he was ever lost or scared to find an elfbow and he would be safe from humans. It only occurred to him then, that he could just hide with the boy here and Henrik and Nikolas would never find them.

The humans wouldn’t find them, he reminded himself. Elfbows don’t protect elves from elves. A smaller voice, a childlike voice in the back of his mind continued: and who are you more scared of?

“I’m here,” Cosimo called back, unsure if they would be able to hear him. “He’s here, he’s alright. I’ll be just a second.”

The fox tilted her head as Cosimo entered the small nook, and watched silently as Cosimo hooked one arm under the boys neck and the other under the boys knees and lifted him from the soil and blanket of leaves. The boy was cold and covered in a thick sheen of sweat that made Cosimo’s heart race.

Surely the humans could heal him, they could fix him. Do something! They would know more. The fox chirped at Cosimo’s heel, bowed into a deep stretch her tail swishing as she stood. Black beady eyes peered up at Cosimo and he understood that she was asking: what now? Even if he wanted to, Cosimo couldn’t dissuade the fox from following and protecting the boy. Foxes were far too cunning to be tricked by a young elf.

The boy was far more lifeless than ever, his chest rising shallowly. Cosimo didn’t waste anymore time in the Elfbow’s protection. He emerged from under a sheet of leaves to see Henrik and King Nikolas with their backs turned to Cosimo.

“Here,” Cosimo rushed out, voice hitching as his feet carried him quickly across the distance to the two humans he decided to trust. Even though this could all be a farce, Cosimo was desperate. The fox pattered along behind him.

The humans turned at the sound of Cosimo’s voice, eyes drawn to the half alive boy in his arms. Henrik rushed over went to take the boy out of Cosimo’s hands but Cosimo turned at the last moment, wide panicked eyes meeting Henrik’s stunned gaze turning sympathetic.

“I have him,” Cosimo said, tone clipped. Henrik straightened, nodding.

Nikolas was the one to move them along. “We need to get him to Artzet immediately.”

“Will he be able to fix him?” Cosimo asked, following the humans back through the forest to the camp.

Henrik leaned into Nikolas and said quietly: “Niko, did you—”

“Yes,” Nikolas replied quickly, cutting Henrik off. He glanced over his shoulder at Cosimo, but the fae had his eyes and attention fixed solely on the unconscious boy in his arms, expression tight with worry. “Now’s not the time, Henrik. We can talk more once we get the boy back to Artzet.”

“Did you see the fox?”

Nikolas laughed, low and rich. “Yes. I saw.”

“Do you think it’s coming along too?”

“I don’t think we could dissuade it even if we tried.”

Cosimo was oblivious to the conversation ahead of him as he carefully stepped down the bank of the stream and hopped it effortlessly. The fox padded along beside him, not even faltering when they emerged into the humans camp.

“Come, men,” Nikolas called to the camp. “We are to be off as soon as we ready the horses.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Soldiers milled to action. It was a smaller party than Henrik was with so within minutes they were packed and on horseback again.

Henrik stood beside Ebony and held his arms out to Cosimo. Cosimo’s sharp eyes cut into Henrik, narrow, untrusting. Henrik tried to look as reassuring as possible.

“You can’t get on the horse with him in your arms, Cosimo. Don’t worry, I’ll give him right back.”

Cosimo worried his bottom lip before nodding with a sigh. He passed the boy to Henrik’s strong arms and hesitated before releasing the boy. He quickly climbed up onto Ebony and held his arms out for the boy again.

Henrik’s smile was kind and reassuring as he passed the boy up to Cosimo before mounting the horse behind them. The fox sat in front of Ebony’s snout as she grazed, beady black eyes peering up at the elf.

“Will the fox be joining us?” Henrik asked.

Cosimo nodded. “She will walk behind. I don’t think she’ll mind the distance.”

“Still, it is a long way to go for such little legs,” Nikolas said coming to a stop beside them. “Will she let me carry her?”

Cosimo looked at the fox who tilted her head at him. A silent understanding passed between them, and Cosimo nodded.

“Yeah, she’ll let you pick her up.”

“Come on sweet thing,” Nikolas said, crouching and extending his hands to her. The fox walked towards him, sniffing his hand before plodding up to him and letting herself be lifted. “Oh, she’s so soft. I think I’ll ride with her beside you, so she can still see you both.”

Cosimo nodded. “Of course.”

Nikolas did just that and then they set off out of the king’s wood back to palace, Cosimo holding the boy tight to his chest. Henrik put the hood over Cosimo’s head before they reached the city gates, the cloak partly obscured the sleeping boy’s face, the other pressed into Cosimo’s chest.

Nikolas had one soldier ride ahead and tell Artzet to prepare a bed for the unconscious boy. They didn’t stop for chats with villagers this time, the air of urgency within their ranks must have carried outwards because no one stopped Nikolas for a catchup as they raced through the streets. Hooves clapped like thunder with steady, rhythmic beats as they passed the village to the wealthier residential area and finally the gates of the palace came into view.

“Just hold on,” Cosimo whispered, tightening his hold on the boy as they trotted to the stables. Henrik dismounted quickly, spreading his arms for the boy. Cosimo hesitated, again, but he didn’t have time to waste. This was life or death and Cosimo vowed he would keep the boy safe. They had come too far to risk it all over Cosimo’s feelings.

Cosimo had just passed the boy to Henrik when Nikolas appeared beside them, fox at his heels. Anxiety at not having the boy close crawled thick up Cosimo’s spine along with a sudden warm feeling as he jumped off Ebony. He had only begun to take a step towards Henrik when his vision swam with an impenetrable darkness. The world swayed and his body became like lead and he was falling.

A warm chest caught him before he could make contact with the ground. Cosimo let out a startled gasp, hands reaching up to hold onto the solid person that kept him upright, his body shivering as strong hands wrapped around him, reassuring.

“It’s okay, Cosimo,” Nikolas told him. “You’re okay. You’ve had a very long day.”

“The boy—” Cosimo mumbled, his tongue heavy as he tried to push his legs to work properly so he could stand on his own. An elf leaning on a human… what would the Elders think?

“We’ll get him to Artzet, as promised, dear boy. Henrik will carry him—”

“No.”

“Yes, you can barely stand. Don’t worry, you and I will head up together. Henrik and Artzet will take good care of him.”

Cosimo wanted to protest but there was no time. Instead he fought back tears as he nodded meekly. “Okay.”

Nikolas nodded at Henrik. Henrik turned on his heel and within seconds disappeared into the palace. Cosimo turned in Nikolas’s hold, one hand fisting the fabric of the King’s tunic in a stranglehold to keep standing. He only stopped when he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Nikolas. Nikolas wrapped an arm around Cosimo, the other ready to catch him if he tried to make a move.

“Easy, Cosimo.”

Cosimo risked a step forward. He would have fallen if it wasn’t for Nikolas’s strong arm holding him up. Cosimo let out a breathy curse in elvish, frustrated at his temporary weakness. He needed to get to Henrik and the boy. He needed to make sure they didn’t do anything bad to him. What if they locked him in iron cuffs? What then?

Something scratched the back of his brain but Cosimo didn’t have the energy to focus on it or give it the light of day.

“Just wait a second, Cosimo, it will pass. Your brother’s not going anywhere.”

The air around him was thick and clammy, like there was no actual oxygen getting to his lungs, as if he was inhaling tiny amounts of iron with every breath. He wouldn’t put it past Rochus to do something like that, poison the air while Cosimo was away.

Nikolas reached over to Ebony’s saddle bag and pulled Henrik’s waterskin from it. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Cosimo took it from Nikolas, unscrewed the bottle and drank it down. The cool liquid was soothing and refreshing as it went down Cosimo’s throat and he found the more he drank the more he wanted to drink. He finished the container of water and opened his eyes, already feeling a ten times better than before.

Nikolas grinned. “Better?”

“Yes,” Cosimo said, handing him the empty water-skin. “Much better. Can we go to Artzet now?”

Nikolas laughed and shook his head fondly. For a short, heart-stopping moment Cosimo thought the king shaking his head side to side meant no, and Cosimo’s mind conjured up the worst.

“You are a determined boy, Cosimo.”

Cosimo felt his cheeks flush pink as he stepped forward, trying to hide his reaction from the king. Nikolas stepped with him until they got to the railing on the stairs. Cosimo let go of Nikolas’s arm and placed all his weight on the railing. He could do this. He could get to the boy. He was so close to saving them.

Once they were up the stairs Nikolas led Cosimo, arm in arm, to Artzet’s clinic. Cosimo almost cried when he saw the boy, something in his arm that connected him to a bag of water. A damp cloth over his forehead.

Myshka was sitting on one bed over, observing Artzet as he worked. Henrik greeted them. “Ah, you’re here. Good.”

“Is it serious?” Cosimo rushed out.

“No, no. Boy is good, strong, healthy of heart,” Artzet replied, smiling at Cosimo over his shoulder. “He will make full recovery.”

“He’ll be okay?” Cosimo whispered, not willing to believe his ears or eyes or anything as he walked with heavy feet to the end of the boy’s bed. The fox was laying there, curled up at the end of his bed and made a noise of recognition when Cosimo approached.

“He will be fine, boy,” Artzet said again, looking to Henrik and Nikolas with a shrug. “I thought that is what I said?”

“Cosimo’s had a long day,” Henrik said. “The two of them both need some rest.”

Cosimo didn’t dare blink in case the world would trick him and make the boy disappear. He couldn’t sleep, not until the boy woke up. He had to make sure the boy was okay. That he didn’t doom them both.

“You say boy is your brother?” Artzet asked, eyes as wide as an owls. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Did he catch him in a lie?

“Good,” Artzet said happily. “Then I know he will be okay. He will be as strong as his big brother, uh? Now, I set up bed beside him for you to sleep.”

Cosimo glanced up at Artzet and nodded fervently. Nikolas made a noise behind him. “Cosimo, I think a proper bed would be better. Hospital beds are uncomfortable—”

“Niko,” Henrik said softly. Nikolas sighed. Cosimo turned to look at the King. His shoulders sagged as he yielded.

“Okay. Fine, I know I won’t convince you otherwise, but Cosimo, the minute you and your brother are better you—”

Nikolas cut himself off as Cosimo crossed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the King, squeezing tightly.

“Thank you,” Cosimo whispered. Nikolas let out a soft, shocked breath of a laugh, wrapping his arms tentatively around the elf.

“It’s my pleasure,” Nikolas replied as Cosimo stepped out of his embrace. “I will go and prepare your rooms. Artzet, I leave the boys in your capable hands.”

“Your majesty,” Artzet said with a bow.

“I’ll stay too,” Henrik said, patting Cosimo’s shoulder. “Until you’re asleep.”

“Full house!” Artzet cried, drawing the covers back on the bed beside the sleeping boy’s. Cosimo walked over to it and climbed in, thanking Artzet and Henrik as he pressed his head to the pillow. Artzet and Henrik started talking in low, hushed voices while Cosimo watched the boy’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.

Alive and safe.

Cosimo did it. He rescued them. His eyelids suddenly grew heavy and Cosimo didn’t fight them as they slid over his eyes, darkness welcoming him like an old friend. Sleep took him somewhere far away, somewhere he didn’t have to think and worry and fret. Somewhere he didn’t betray his race and seek refuge in humans.

Henrik stayed even when he was sure the elf was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling softly. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, Henrik thought, without the hard crease between his brows. His jaw wasn't clenched, his face relaxed, no stubborn, steely gaze to contend with. He looked like a boy, a human boy around fourteen years old.

Already Henrik had developed a protective streak for the elf, wanting to comfort and care for him as much as the elf would allow. More than the elf would allow. The fondness in Henrik's chest for Cosimo wasn't the only recent feeling that had taken hold of him since he met the boy. There was something foreboding, unnatural, as if there was a presence watching him from somewhere unseen to the naked eye, and Henrik knew that Cosimo's presence here would only spell trouble. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to let the boy go now that he had met him. He still had so many questions to ask him; why he ran, who he was, will he stay?

All those questions could wait until Cosimo and his brother awoke. For now, Henrik pulled up a chair and rest his head against the backrest, content with watching over the newest residents of the palace.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll call (zee tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @tippytappytyping

[drunkenskunk]

Another place, and another time...

The following is an excerpt from my currently in-progress fanfiction project, Ashen Exile. I figure this sequence might gain more traction here than otherwise, for reasons which I'm sure will become apparent by the end.

- - -

Grey.

It didn't matter which way one looked, everywhere was that same lifeless grey, permeating every surface, smothering everything. The mottled, crumbling soil, the color of cold ash, was cracked and broken, torn asunder by thousands of boots and aeons of war. Broken spears, tattered flags, rusted swords, dented shields... so many discarded tools of warfare littered the ground, alongside their results: the scattered broken bones of countless long forgotten dead. A thick grey fog enshrouded the edges of this wasteland, and an oppressive grey sky hung heavy overhead, both featureless and foreboding. It was difficult to tell where the ground ended and where the sky began; ruin and devastation stretched out in every direction.

This was not a place anyone would want to be.

In the center of this wasteland of dead and long forgotten carnage stood a child, no older than 14. Locks of unkempt, greasy raven hair fell around a sharp, serious face. A pair of ruby red eyes peered out from beneath a fringe of wild bangs. Skin the color of polished oak stood in sharp contrast to the overwhelming grey of the landscape around them. Robes of black and red, the fabric inlaid with arcane sigils and runes of power, hung loosely in unappealingly flat and indistinct shapes. Entirely too-long sleeves seemed to swallow the child's hands till only two pairs of skinny fingers emerged. In one of those hands, the child tightly gripped a black metal staff tipped with a sparkling green crystal, humming with a barely contained energy that seemed eager to be unleashed.

The child inhaled deeply, held it, and slowly exhaled. Lingering in this brief moment of silence and peace, trying to draw it out for as long as possible... in preparation for what was coming next.

A voice boomed. Though it uttered only a single word, the voice dripped with authority. The sound carried the bellowing weight of a man who would never ask, when he could command.

“Begin.”

In an instant, the stillness shattered like the breaking of glass. From out of the foggy haze, dozens of figures emerged: vaguely humanoid in shape, in that they had two arms, two legs, and a single head, but that was where the similarities ended. These hulking, monstrous brutes were far too tall and far too broad, each of them a twisted mass of meat and metal. Half of their bodies were encased in blackened metal, either fused with or bolted directly to their bodies, armoring their heavily muscled forms unevenly. What wasn't armored was marred by red scaly flesh, jagged horns protruding from their heads and back, and feet ending in bulky, cloven hooves. These unholy amalgams of scarred meat, bleached bone, and daemonic steel filled the air with bellowing war cries, brandishing all manner of deadly weaponry, and charged directly at the child in the center.

Naught but a second had passed, and the child was already on the move. Feet kicked off the ground, and they ran to the side, putting as much distance between them and the charging horde as possible. A hand peeked out from the sleeve with a quick, yet precise, gesture; sparks and scintillating smoke trailed off the edge of their fingers, coalescing into a glowing rune, hovering in the air next to the staff.

“Shaza-kiel!” they shouted, aiming the tip of the staff towards the closest of the demonic brutes. Ethereal chains shrouded in dark light erupted from the crystal, spiraling around itself through the air, before plunging into the chest of the demon. It shuddered and halted in its advance, with eyes that started glowing with the same dark light as the chains. The enslaved demon swiftly turned to another of its fellows and swung the halberd in its hand in a wide arc, catching the other across the knees with the giant blade.

More demons were coming, and the child continued to run. With another gesture of their free hand, a new rune appeared. “Katra zil shukil!” they muttered, raising the staff. The crystal shimmered, releasing clouds of sickly green miasma and ethereal flies which shot forth towards the next closest beast. It shuddered and briefly halted in its advance; boils and sores began to appear on its scaly flesh, bursting just as quickly as they appeared, leaking torrents of blood and pus. Even the metal armor and greataxe in its hands started to visibly corrode and rust. The miasma began to spread, catching several of the other charging demons, inflicting them with the same corruption.

But this only slowed a few of them... and there were still so many more.

“Ashj-rethul!” the child said, tracing a burning rune into the air. A spark appeared, suspended in the center of the shimmering rune, and they plunged the crystal tip of the staff straight through. The rune imploded around the crystal, and the spell exploded forward, sending a massive gout of flame at the next closest brute. It corkscrewed through the air and exploded against his chest, showering him in superheated globs of molten metal. The monster's entire body – and the area surrounding it – instantly caught alight, as if it had just been dropped into a furnace.

Their numbers were starting to thin, but nowhere near quickly enough. The child looked to the grey clouds overhead, and raised the staff to the sky. Another rune was traced in the air, and more daemonic words of power were spoken: “Melar ril'daz!” The clouds began to darken and churn, and the child brought the staff down in a motion akin to yanking on a rope or a chain, right through the rune. With a crack of thunder, the sky split open in fire, raining down dozens of fireballs directly onto the charging horde.

Sparks of spent mana condensed on the child's hand, dripping away like droplets of sweat. The air was heavy with the stench of rotten meat and burning sulfur. Screams echoed in the air, some in pain... but more in anger, as many of the daemon soldiers simply ignored the rain of fire and continued to charge straight through.

There was no time to cast another spell. One of the monsters was bearing down on the child, brandishing an immense black iron greatsword as big as they were. The child gripped the metal staff with both hands, and lifted it over their head in a feeble attempt to block the oncoming strike. The impact sent a shock through their entire body, sending the child crashing painfully to the ground. Ash and dust billowed out in dirty clouds around the two of them, and while the child desperately tried to scramble back to their feet, the towering daemonic brute pulled the sword away, readying it for a final, deadly swing.

“Rakir.”

A crackle of magenta lightning shot straight up, bursting from the child's open palm like a flurry of buckshot. The daemon reflexively let go of the massive greatsword as it screamed in unbearable agony, its body wracked by blast after blast of terrible, unnatural pain. By the time the weapon clattered to the broken ground, the child was back on their feet and on the move.

But it was already too late.

A titanic mailed fist slammed into the side of the child's head, sending them reeling. They saw stars and stumbled. Before they had any chance to rally, an armored hoof caught them across the midsection and sent them flying. The child sailed through the air, crashed through a broken shield, tumbled end over end through the shower of wooden splinters, and eventually rolled to a stop flat on their back. The child was in a daze from the impact, staring blankly into the grey clouds above; they coughed several times, each reflexive hack sending a gout of blood spraying into the air.

The demon was standing over them now. Trails of blood were gushing out of every wound, pooling onto the ashy soil beneath the child's motionless body. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. The axe in the daemon's hand hovered no more than an inch above their scrawny neck.

Do it, the child thought. Just do it already. Their wide eyes were filled with manic desperation, fixed squarely on the jagged blade, its edge marred by dozens of deep nicks and gashes. What are you waiting for? Another cough, and more blood splattered onto their face.

“Stop.”

It was the same authoritative voice as before, just as commanding. A deathly chill appeared as a deep, dark shadow blanketed the landscape. The daemon lowered the weapon to its side, stepping away from the child before dropping to one knee.

“Leave us.”

The daemon disappeared without a word, leaving the child to lie on the dirt, silently cursing their ill fate. They rolled over and pushed off the ground with trembling hands, each movement punctuated by another gush of leaking blood. The child did not get back on their feet fully, instead kneeling before the towering shadowy figure, with head bowed and eyes averted; gobbets of blood and mucus continued to trickle out of their nose and the corners of their mouth, dripping onto the soil. The man loomed over the child menacingly, his every feature shrouded in darkness.

Venthrax had arrived.

“████████,” he boomed. “What are you doing?”

“I...” the child paused, trying to swallow some blood so they didn't gag. “I'm doing my best, Lord.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. An intense pressure began to weigh down on the child from all sides, as if they had just been dropped directly onto the ocean floor and the entirety of the fathomless depths were trying to crush them.

“Do you think me a fool?” he said, with words that dripped with venom. “I created you. I know what you are capable of. And I know that you are lying.”

“M-my Lord...” the child spoke in a trembling voice, trying not to collapse onto the blood-soaked soil beneath them. “I... I swear on my life, I'm trying my best.”

“You and I both know your life means nothing,” Venthrax snarled. “Swear on something that matters.”

Silence reigned for several seconds. The child said nothing, their mind entirely consumed by the effort required to push back against the spell threatening to crush them. This was, of course, a lie: they were very deliberately concentrating on that thought, dissembling in case Venthrax was reading their mind. The truth was far more simple. They could not think of a single thing they cared about enough to swear on.

Venthrax sighed heavily, the disappointment radiating from him almost palpable; the pressure relented as the spell evaporated, and the child gasped, practically choking on the air forcing its way back into their lungs.

“What do you think this is, ████████?” he asked. “Do you think this mere playtime? A game?” Venthrax fixed the child with his cold gaze. “What do you think will happen if you face a real foe, unprepared? One who does not hold back like my thralls? Do you truly think they will yield? That they will show mercy?”

Thunder boomed in the distance, as the grey storm clouds overhead began to slowly churn.

“The Alliance... the Horde... even the Legion. They are nothing. Mere pebbles at the foot of the mountain which lay before us. The first stepping stones on the path to my Ascension. There are far greater threats, waiting for the both of us among the stars. And you, as the instrument of my wrath, must be stronger than all of them. You will be stronger than them. So your 'best' is not good enough. Not yet.”

Venthrax twitched a finger with the subtlest of gestures. The child's staff was lifted by an invisible hand from the wreckage where it had landed, and sailed through the air with not even a whisper of a sound. It hovered before the child's face for several seconds before unceremoniously dropping to the ground with a clatter.

“The future is not a river to carry us. It is the ocean in which we will both drown, if we are not prepared. And we will be prepared.”

Thunder boomed once again.

“You will do it again,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away. “And you will not stop until you succeed.”

- - -

Hours passed. Maybe days. Time after time after time, the child stood alone against impossible odds. Over and over and over again. Each and every time they failed, the same word echoed across the desolation:

“Again.”

And each time, the assault would begin anew. The child lost track of how long they had been there. How many times they tried. How many times they failed. How long since they were last able to rest. Last able to eat. Last able to stop. Until finally...

The dust settled one final time, revealing a wasteland littered with dozens of fresh bodies. A deafening silence reigned supreme. The child stood alone, staring at the carnage with bloodshot eyes: wounded, bloody, and exhausted beyond measure... but the last one standing.

A deathly chill washed over the battlefield, and the monolithic form of Venthrax reemerged from out of the shadows. The child dropped to one knee, bracing for the inevitable reprimand. Wondering just how they had failed this time...

“There. You see, ████████? I knew you could do it,” Venthrax's voice was barely above a whisper, yet somehow louder than a shout. “I am proud of you, my son.”

Teeth clenched, and skinny fingers wrapped into a pair of fists. Nails dug sharply into palms. The color drained from the child's knuckles, and tiny dribbles of blood began to slip through their fingers.

- - -

Green.

All around, the forest was awash in a sea of green. Massive, gnarled trees with trunks covered in thick mosses could be seen in every direction. The sun was blotted out entirely by the densely packed canopy of leaves overhead, with branches twisted together in a mirror of the tangled mess of roots snaking into the ground below. Shrubs, ferns, and wildflowers were growing everywhere, linked to one another with wrist-thick vines, as clusters of mushrooms and other fungi grew in abundance out of every shadowy crack and crevice. Ethereal pinpricks of light glittered in the darkness, lingering in the air between the trees; they were flickering in and out of sight like lanterns, in a manner that was at once natural, and yet very obviously not.

This was an ancient forest, untouched by the works of Man. The air was thick with Old Magick. Wild Magick. The unpolluted power of Elder Things.

There was only one person in this strange forest. The child was running through the woods, heedless of anything around them. Tears streamed down their face, obscuring their vision. And while they were, in fact, the only person... they were hardly alone. Within the shadows, just beyond the path that was taking shape just ahead of them, eyes peered out of the darkness. Indistinct shapes clustered together. Hidden. Watching. Whispering.

Suddenly: a crash!

The child lost their footing and fell, collapsing in a heap onto a pile of damp moss. The shock was enough to pull them from their stupor, and they looked up and around, trying to find the fallen log or errant branch that had caught their foot.

The path behind them was suspiciously clear. The only sound that could be heard was that of their own ragged breathing, filling their ears like wads of cotton. Slowly, cautiously, the child got back on their feet, dragging the end of a sleeve across their face to wipe away the tears. With hesitation, they turned, intent on resuming their trek deeper into this ancient forest...

An elongated face of bone appeared out of the darkness, and the child came to a halt. A pair of emeralds glistened from within the empty eye sockets of the vaguely-equine skull. It hovered silently in the air before them, long tassels of multicolored cloth spilling from the bottom of the skull where its jawbone should've been, swaying in a non-existent breeze.

It was almost enough to distract from the echoing sound of laughter, fading in and out of earshot.

“Oho? And what mann'r of creature doth trespass within our borders?” a strange voice spoke in an odd sing-song cadence, seemingly from two places at once.

“You smell it, don't you brother?” another voice, much harsher than the first, chimed in from somewhere above. “It carries the rotten odour of Fel. We should kill it, ere the taint chances to spread.”

“Let us not be too hasty...” the first voice said, its source still unclear. “Perhaps she has good reason for this offense.”

A tiny head emerged from the other side of the skull, followed by a pair of proportionally tiny arms. Iridescent wings, like those of a dragonfly, also appeared from behind the tiny faerie and began to flutter. Its face broke into a wicked grin as it looked at the child with coal-black eyes, resting a pointed chin atop its interlaced fingers.

“Well? What say you?” the faerie continued to smile from a mouth that was far too wide and filled with far too many teeth for its size. “Art thou friend or foe? What're thee doing in our forests, little girl?”

“I.... I'm not a girl,” the child stammered out, eventually finding their voice. The faerie furrowed a brow in puzzlement.

“Oh, are you not? My apologies,” the faerie began to chuckle once more. “Never could tell with mortals, in truth.”

“This Creacher is not mortal, brother. It reeks of the daemonaic,” the other voice snarled. A pair of crimson eyes with an unclear owner emerged from the darkness. The form of this other fae was... indistinct; everything about its shape seemed to shift at random, and the child could only every catch glimpses of them out of the corner of their vision. “Why is it here?”

“You...” the child swallowed hard, trying to maintain their composure. “You are fae of... of one of the Seelie Courts, correct?”

“Not quite,” The small faerie leaning atop the floating skull chuckled again. “But... close enough.”

“I seek an audience with your queen,” the child said as firmly as they could muster. The small faerie atop the floating skull suddenly stopped smiling.

“A trick!” the shrouded one snarled again, its crimson eyes vanishing back into the darkness. “This foul daemon aims to bring ruin!”

“No tricks, and no ruin,” the child replied, steeling their resolve. “I am here to bargain away the only thing I have of worth.” Not entirely a lie, but...close enough to the truth.

“If thou know of our kind, Creacher of Fel, thee should well know our fair monarch is The Queene, and not merely a queen,” the faerie had dropped any pretense of amiability. “Pray tell... why shouldst we grant thee audience?”

The child opened their mouth to speak, but the answer came not from them... but from the skull. The emeralds within its eye sockets burned brightly, and a single word echoed from the bone:

Granted.

In an instant, everything changed. The skull and the fae vanished in a wink, replaced by a large raven. The corvid spread its wings, flew straight up, and the canopy of leaves overhead swiftly parted for the bird. The forest did not disappear entirely, but seemed to melt and shift before the child's eyes. They found themselves in a grassy clearing, encircled by a ring of mushrooms, and illuminated by a shaft of moonlight revealed by the freshly open canopy. Just beyond the fairy ring, the trees were just as thick as before, and dozens of eyes peered at the child from within the darkness.

“You have ventured far from home, little one,” a gentle voice wafted through the midnight forest air. “I wonder... why have you come before Me?”

The voice brought the child's gaze into focus: the owner was a titanic being of unparalleled alien beauty. Sat on a throne of bark, wrapped in a cloak of leaves, and crowned by a headdress of antlers, the Faerie Queene was impossible to look directly at, and yet it seemed equally impossible to look anywhere else. Her iridescent skin glittered like diamonds of the purest clarity, and her eyes seemed to carry within them the very depths of the infinite cosmos. For the briefest of moments, the child felt rooted in place, utterly captivated and enthralled by this majestic and terrible sight before them.

“I... I'm...” the child began to speak hesitantly... and then, a pair of fists clenched. They swallowed hard, and spoke with renewed resolve. “My name is ████████.”

Silence. The Queene furrowed her brow, gazing down from her throne with curiosity. Hushed whispers and breathless mutterings echoed among the figures hidden within the trees. The child stood before the Queene, wild-eyed and looking expectantly from side to side, clearly anticipating... something.

“... well?” they asked. “You're all faeries, aren't you? I've already given you my Name... What else are you waiting for?” The desperation in their voice was starting to become evident. “Do it!”

For the first time in millennia, the Faerie Queene was caught off guard, and this made her curious. There had certainly been mortal trespassers who had freely given their Names within the domain of the Aos sí before... but they were always ignorant of where they were, and with whom they were dealing. Those with Knowledge were far more guarded, and required tricks and deception to reveal their Name. That this child with Knowledge was so reckless was... unexpected.

And that made it the second unexpected event surrounding this child.

“I am afraid you have Me at a loss, young one,” she said, eventually. “Did you not say to my messenger that you came to bargain? What is it you desire, in exchange for your Name?”

“I...” the child's voice cracked, and they lowered their head, their face now shrouded behind their bangs. “I've heard of what happens to those who give up their Name to the Fae. They disappear. Vanish. Never to return.” The child looked up, briefly, and one of their fierce crimson eyes caught the moonlight. “...so. Go on then.” They looked down again. “Get rid of me.”

More mutterings from the trees. The Queene considered these words, trying to probe the child's mind to gauge their true intent. Yet, she found this mind frustratingly clouded and almost impossible to make sense of... quite unlike any of the other creatures touched by Fel magicks she had dealt with over the aeons. Normally, their ill intent was clear, and impossible to hide. But the only ill-will harbored within this child was... directed inward. It was just as unexpected and confusing now as it was when she first peered within, the moment this child set foot within her domain.

“My Courtiers...” the Queene eventually spoke up, gazing into the trees with a raised hand. “Please, disperse with haste. I wish to speak with this one, in private.”

One by one, the pairs of eyes in the darkness vanished, and the voices vanished with them. The moonlit glade within the fairy ring fell silent. The alien eyes of the Queene gazed down at the child, whose face was still mostly hidden behind the tangled mess of bangs.

“I wonder, young one...” The Queene began, once she was sure they were alone. “Do you wish to die? Was that your true goal in trespassing?”

Silence. The child refused to look up or answer. Their hands, still clenched into fists at their side, began to shake.

“You have certainly gone to an awful lot of trouble to come before Me, if that is, indeed, the case,” she continued. “If taking your own life was your aim, then surely there are easier...”

“I've already tried that!” the child practically shouted, cutting them off. “It never works!”

Silence fell once again, and the Queene's confusion deepened.

“My... my father, Venthrax. He... every time I try to...” the child's voice began to crack. “I can't escape. He always brings me back, no matter what I do to end things. And every time, it... the punishments for my... defiance. They just... keep getting worse.” The child looked up, and it was the moisture welling up in their eyes which caught the moonlight this time. “But... he's spoken of you. Of all the Fae Courts. He tries to hide it, but you're the only ones he truly speaks of with fear. You're stronger than he is. More powerful than he is... and you can make it stick.”

That was when their legs gave out. They dropped to their hands and knees, and their whole body began to shake.

“I... I just...” they began to quietly sob, and teardrops fell onto the grass below. “I want to be free of this pain...”

A pair of slender hands appeared, gently cradling the child's face. With a sniff, the child looked up, and they were met with a heart-shaped face: someone they'd never seen, yet who was instantly familiar. Kind eyes gazed at the child, sparkling in the moonlight as if they were gemstones of the clearest emerald. Long tresses of red hair, decorated with pure white flowers, cascaded off her shoulders in waves, shining like the last embers of a fire in autumn.

“Oh, you poor thing...” the Queene said, kneeling before the child and using the sleeve of her silken gown to wipe away the tears. She began to smile sweetly, and it felt like the sun against the child's face, its radiance filling them with warmth. “I think I understand, now.”

The Queene gathered the child up in her arms and held them close, embracing them as a kind and caring mother would. Instinctively, they tried to return the gesture... but were so overcome and overwhelmed, all they could do was lean against her for support, and continue to weep.

“Shhh... it's alright. It'll be alright,” the Queene whispered, cradling the child's head against her chest. “I cannot grant you what you ask, young one... but I shall grant you what you seek.”

The child said nothing, too stricken by a flood of emotions to do anything except continue to sob. Even now, they were denied... but the Queene was not finished.

“I have gazed into the future, child. It is not a river that ends here, but an ocean of infinite possibility, stretching out before you. I can see that you are brave enough to endure, and one day you shall discover a very important Truth.”

“Truth?” the child whimpered softly, confusion momentarily winning out over grief. “W-what truth?” The Queene shook her head.

“That, I cannot say. It is obscured from my Sight; a Truth that only you can find. But when you do, I give you My Word: I shall take from you all of this pain, wrap it up in the Name you have given Me, and I will scatter it to the winds of Time and Space.”

“Always remember this, young one,” the Queene held the child's face in her hands, smiled once more, and planted a gentle kiss on their forehead. “No matter what happens, you are not alone.”

- - -

Tuera stood at a window in her Sepermeru headquarters, still as a statue, staring at the maelstrom of sand churning just on the other side of the glass. Except, she wasn't really looking at the sandstorm; she was lost within the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

These memories of days long past were playing in her mind, over and over again. And while it was true, she held these memories... they did not belong to her. They belonged to someone else. These were the memories of a man who had been dead for years. She had killed that loyal lapdog her father wished her to be, and the agony of both his life and demise had fueled the fires of her own creation. But despite emerging from those ashes as herself, the wounds of that previous life still ran deep. These scars flayed across her soul could not be seen, yet still they remained, and would never go away.

If nothing else, the Queene had kept her Word from that day. The Name given to her had, indeed, been scattered to the winds: when she became Tuera, her deadname was simply erased from existence. And these memories she held were not truly painful. Not like you would expect. They just left her... numb.

Tuera sighed heavily, and forced these unwanted memories back into the depths of her mind, where they could be safely locked away again. Dwelling on these thoughts would do her no good... especially since she could hear footsteps approaching.

“Tuera?” Ioanna asked, rounding the corner with a cup held in each hand; trails of steam spilled from the liquid within. “Oh, there you are. Obsun brewed us some tea, and I thought you might want some...” She paused, looking at Tuera with concern. “Are you alright? You seem troubled.” Tuera reasserted a smile, completing the mask that was her face.

“Oh... yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought.”

[mrakobulka]

Bust Adoptables P5

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[billfrancois]

Meet Sylva Lacewing and Elkhorn the Three-legged, two Fae once worshipped by humans, but have since been forgotten. Nowadays, they haunt old forests and fairy forts, playing cruel tricks on any who cross their path... They are part of the same world/story as Sunny the Scarecrow!

Once again I am revealing characters that aren't set to appear in my hypothetical webcomic for a long while, a webcomic im still not even close to STARTING yet... ...SO BE IT.

[angelofhell323]

PLEASE tell me I’m not the only one who knows about the Beasts of the Briar series??? I’m obsessed and binge read the first two books in like 4 days.