#she stayed out until dawn for Possession Reasons and then the party tried to wake her up two hours later to go get massages

[blujayonthewing]

IN MY FEELINGS. ABOUT AUBREE.

[an-aura-about-you]

novaiiiiiiume

replied to your post

“I wanna write stuff while I’m working on the house. Give me the...”

LOHENTUTU

PLEASE

GHOSTIES MEETING THE SQUAD

If that’s ok

Wow, this took longer than I meant to for a number of reasons, but I couldn’t resist doing this! Although I took it in a bit of a different direction. What can I say? Plot bunny latches on, you don’t let plot bunny go.

The three sit around the ancient, ornate spirit board on the floor of Autor’s recreation of Drosselmeyer’s study. It’s a gorgeous little antique, nothing like the mass-produced spirit boards available at the toy store nowadays. The heavy wooden board pivots and unfolds over its storage compartment. Within are a couple of planchettes with fine crystal windows to magnify the beautifully inked letters, numbers, and words. Holding it feels the way old books smell, which isn’t too unusual since it’s spent most of its life in a library.

“Of all the things for my family to have and me not know about it,” Autor grouses as he places the planchette on the board.

Erina teasingly smiles and says, “Accept that your reputation as the weird occult kid is fully warranted.”

Autor harrumphs. Erina shrugs.

Fakir crosses his arms and goes, “This seems pointless. Whatever’s haunting me has done it the most at my house.”

“It’s not my fault I’m allergic to your pet duck,” Autor says.

“Besides, whatever it is followed you to class,” Erina points out. “You said you heard it call out to you. It’s looking for you specifically.”

Fakir looks to his... well, friends might be strong. Work associates isn’t quite accurate, either. Humans he can somewhat rely on that aren’t in a story. He and Erina are agreeable enough company, so she’ll come along no matter what. However, he needs Autor to cooperate since he’s the one who owns the spirit board and knows how it works. No other options left, Fakir unfolds his arms and places his fingers on the planchette. The others follow suit and proceed to open the board.

“Is anyone here?” Fakir asks.

The planchette stays still between the three.

“Has someone been trying to contact me?” Fakir asks, undaunted.

Autor sneezes, and the planchette twitches.

“That doesn’t count,” Erina says.

“I wasn’t trying to make it move,” Autor grumbles through his handkerchief.

The planchette twitches again.

“Have you been trying to contact me?” Fakir presses.

The planchette practically jumps out of their hands, leaping to YES.

“Now you’re just teasing him,” Autor says, glaring at Erina.

“Oh, great way to cover up your acting,” Erina quips.

Fakir shushes them. “Neither of you are in on it. I’m not even in on it! That’s the whole point.”

“Then one of us should ask a question,” Erina says, indicating herself and Autor.

“Who are you, spirit?” Autor asks, getting them back on track.

The planchette slips down to the letters T and U only to repeat them.

Erina rolls her eyes. “Are you kidding? We’re playing fairy tale games? This is the worst Halloween party I’ve ever been to.”

“Now, now, what if it’s a demon pretending to be Princess Tutu?” Autor sarcastically suggests.

Something in Autor’s voice prickles Fakir. It carries just a bit more of Drosselmeyer’s sadistic glee than he’s comfortable with. That’s the last thing any of them need in this place. Fortunately, his question comes with a relatively simple answer.

“We ask a question only Tutu or someone close to her would know the answer to,” Fakir suggests.

Autor and Erina stare at Fakir like he’s grown two extra noses.

“Well, that should be really simple for anyone who’s read The Prince and the Raven to answer, which is almost everyone!” Autor protests.

But Fakir shushes him again. “Not unless they know the ending.”

“A trick question, then?” Erina asks. “Fakir, no one knows the ending. Drosselmeyer died before it was finished.”

Fakir sighs in exasperation and goes, “Look, however skeptical all three of us are, both of you trusted me far enough to actually sit with me around a spirit board. Trust me on this question.”

“Fine,” Autor grumbles.

“All right,” Erina agrees, resigned.

Fakir takes a breath to calm himself, closes his eyes a moment, and asks, “Tutu, where did the Prince hold you in his heart? Which shard did you manifest in?”

The planchette smoothly glides about to spell the answer:

H

O

P

E

Fakir nods, satisfied with this answer.

“Seriously?” Erina asks.

He shrugs and confirms, “It’s the right answer.”

“And you’re absolutely certain about this?” Autor presses.

“I could ask her another question, but I don’t know if that’s necessary,” he says. “Depending on what she wants, that is.”

“What do you want, Tutu?” Erina asks, directed to the spirit board this time.

L

O

H

E

N

G

R

I

N

“The Knight?” Autor wonders. “Why do you want him?”

S

E

A

R

C

H

“Wait,” Fakir says. “That might be it. Tutu and Lohengrin looking for each other in the hereafter. The voice I heard in class was too deep to be Tutu, but the noises I’ve heard at home sound like pointework.”

“So, what, you just run the personals for the dead now?” Erina jabs.

“You’re right here in the news room with me,” Fakir responds.

Autor holds back a snicker, but he sobers up enough to go, “So what’s the problem? They have you as a connection. Shouldn’t they be able to meet now?”

The planchette moves again to answer:

C

A

N

T

S

P

E

A

K

Erina sits back a bit and goes, “Wow. That’s kind of cruel.”

“Yeah,” Autor agrees. “Isn’t that always the thought, that you’d be reunited with your dead loved ones in the afterlife?”

“Maybe they couldn’t since Lohengrin died but Tutu vanished,” Fakir speculates.

The planchette moves again:

V

E

S

S

E

L

The three let the word sink in, the reality of what they might have to do weighing them down inside. All Lohengrin and Tutu want is a night of reunion, but at the cost of two of their three consciousnesses for the duration? And if they don’t, the two are going to keep haunting Fakir.

“We could’ve had a normal Halloween party,” Erina half-laments. “We could’ve watched some scary movies and sneak beer out of the fridge like normal teenagers. But instead we’re gonna get possessed by ghosts.”

“Now hold on, we haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Autor says. “And I for one am not giving up my body to some random spirit that might be Lohengrin or Tutu unless I’m absolutely sure it’s not going to cause any harm.”

Fakir takes a deep breath and goes, “I can make sure nothing bad happens. But if I do that, I can’t be one of the vessels.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Erina protests. “You’re not taking that kind of risk!”

“Erina,” Fakir says, voice as serious as she’s ever heard him get. “It’s not without risk for me, but the risk is lower for all of us if we follow this plan.”

Erina harrumphs, but it doesn’t have the same weight to it, and asks, “And what is your plan?”

“I’m going to write a story.”

Erina downright glares at him, but Autor jolts back and asks, “Are you kidding me?!”

“No.”

Autor runs his hand over his face. “You’re a Spinner?! You?!”

“You’re asking questions in the right tone, but you’re asking the wrong questions!” Erina shouts at Autor. “What is a Spinner and how is writing a story of all things supposed to protect us in case this turns into The Exorcist?!”

“I’ll explain everything later, but we should do this now if we can,” Fakir says.

“No, you won’t explain everything later because we shouldn’t explain it to her!” Autor yells, pointing accusingly at Erina.

“No! If I’m involved in it, I need to know at some point! You have no right to keep it from me!” Erina yells back.

“Would you two please be quiet?” Fakir hisses. “Look, if it doesn’t work, then the worst case scenario is I’m writing a story that will do nothing and both of you will be fine. You have nothing to lose.”

“Except our consciousnesses,” Autor says.

“For a night. That’s all. Whatever needs to be done, we’ll get it done tonight.”

“Hmph. Can we at least read the story in the morning?” Erina asks. “I might as well find out what happens to my body while someone else uses it.”

“Yes, I’ll agree to this if we can read the story tomorrow,” Autor agrees.

“Fine,” Fakir says, going along with the compromise.

“Fine,” Erina agrees.

“Fine,” Autor agrees.

And with that, the three close the board.

Lohengrin gasps a deep breath and feels at his chest for his mortal injury. He shakes and laughs, the glasses on his face blocking his hands from wiping away his tears. He takes them off, looks at the blurry room, and puts them back on.

“Lohengrin?”

He recognizes the voice even though he shouldn’t. “Tutu? Tutu, is that you?”

Tutu tucks her long hair behind her ears and nods. “I think so.”

Lohengrin crosses the short distance and grabs her hands with his, their fingers clumsily knitting together. Their foreheads touch, and they both laugh in breathless disbelief.

“It has been eons,” he tells her.

“I didn’t imagine Heaven to be a place to wait,” she responds.

“It’s been eons if it’s been a moment,” Lohengrin says, squeezing their joined hands. “I can’t count all of my days in what should be paradise spent thinking on when you would come, even if my heart was glad that you were with the Prince.”

She ducks her head down with a sniffle. “He’s finally whole and at peace. He’s with his Princess. And... and I’ve missed you more than I’ve known!”

Tutu takes her hands back and embraces Lohengrin as tight as her body allows, glad when he does the same and rests a hand on the back of her head.

“Has the time finally come?” Lohengrin asks her. “Can you join us?”

“I think so. I hope so. I believe the time has come now that the Prince’s heart is whole and not in danger of shattering again.”

He kisses her forehead and says, “You’ve done what I couldn’t, Tutu. And once you are there, Heaven will finally be complete.”

Tutu looks up and asks, “Will you stay with me until the dawn, Lohengrin?”

“Of course, of course,” he assures her, rubbing his thumbs along her tears’ trails. “We can cross it together.”

Of the three, Autor’s the first to wake up in the late morning.

He rubs the drowsiness from his eyes and tries to stretch out of his uncomfortable sit-sleep position only to find he’s holding hands with Erina. She’s in a state similar to his own pre-waking moments, the only difference being her head leaning against his shoulder. He opens his hand to let go of hers, but their fingers remain loosely knitted. He gently sets to work undoing her fingers, checking the both of them over for anything amiss. They seem no worse from the night, no strange marks or unusually mussed clothes.

Fakir sleeps slumped over the desk, some pages of parchment by his elbow.

The story.

Autor swallows, hands already trembling in anticipation. A story written by a Spinner in this very study. And he’s part of it, however small of a part he played. He quietly steps over and looks at the page on top, carefully taking it from the pile. He steadies himself with a breath, bracing himself to read.

“...eventually the Princess nodded off to sleep, her head resting on the Knight’s shoulder. She trusted in his promise that they would make the final journey together. Her time to guide others had come to an end, and the Knight would take his turn to guide her to the Heaven she’s dreamed of for so long.”

Did they just fall asleep while Fakir wrote his story? That’s all this seems to be, and yet the words plant an ache in Autor’s heart.

“Autor?”

He looks to Erina when she calls, possibly the first time either of them have used their proper names since this started. She gets to her feet with a yawn, stretching her arms over her head, and joins him by the desk.

“Is this the story?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, passing her the page in his hand.

Erina takes it and quietly reads, making a soft little sigh when she reaches the end. She places the page back with the others, careful not to disturb Fakir.

“Should we wake him?” she asks.

Autor shrugs and goes, “Maybe we should just let him sleep.”

Erina nods. “Well, that was a Halloween party I won’t forget anytime soon.”

“Yeah...”

“Let’s just watch scary movies at the next one.”

[courteternal-rp]

→ general details

name ; twila apollon

age ; appears 24 || actually 508

gender & sexuality ; female, bisexual

race ; high fae

do they hold a position or title? ; lady of the day court, princess of phaoryze

loyalty ; the day court

face claim ; hailee steinfeld

→ in depth

→ aesthetics

the rosy glow of a soft sunset. gold jewelry against tanned skin. a sprawl of half-read ancient texts. barefeet and fine bejeweled gowns. heart of gold, eyes of gold. the adrenaline of free-falling. dark, brown curls that bounce with each giggle. untapped potential. i read that somewhere, but i don’t remember where. seeing the moon when it’s still daylight. a moment lost in the shadows.

→ headcanons

books ; while twila loves to read and uses books to sate her ever-eager curiosity, she often finds herself reading several different books at one time. her room, more often than not, is littered with ancient books that are each opened to a different page. there is no rhyme nor reason to which books she reads at what point and how long it takes to finish one.

parents ; twila never knew her parents very well. in fact, she only met them a couple of times in her life before they passed away. she loves to hear stories about them, but there is some animosity in her heart that they chose to be away from her for the entirety of her childhood and then never came home. twila always wanted to be like them and feels a bit like a disappointment to be so little like either.

sweet & sour ; twila has a deep love of anything sweet or sour. she can be found in the kitchens sneaking sweet snacks or fruit any time of day. her favorite thing to eat is lemon cake, and she will eat an entire one by herself if left to her own devices.

→ powers

Twila is very capable of basic magic such as glamouring, summoning, and healing. Her bursts of magic often comes as a second nature to her, and due to the minor nature of this magic it is rare that she ever deplete her stores. She does have the ability to winnow in a flash of sunlight. It has been noted that as many members of the High Lord’s family, Twila possesses the ability to glow like the sun. However, instead of the bright and overbearing light that her cousin possesses, Twila glows the soft rosey color of a sunset. Some have noticed that the princess can often work around very powerful wards and spells with seemingly little effort. Twila does not think much of it, as it is nothing she ever attempts to do, but there is the promise of a cursebreaking ability that she has not discovered in five hundred years.

→ personality

ebullient ; despite the tragedy that she’s seen in her life, twila has always been happy and fun-loving. she tries to never let things bring her down for too long. although it has become more difficult in the more recent years, twila has become better at hiding any negative feelings behind her bright smile.

loquacious ; it goes hand in hand with her pleasant nature. twila does not often know when to stop talking. unlike many in her position, she had never been very good at games of politics and manipulation. she says whatever comes into her mind without much filtering.

intrepid ; fearless and curious, twila is happy to jump feet first into any situation. she never had much use for caution or fear and never learned the need for them, either. 

guileless ; some believe twila’s innocence to be a farce or a strategy to throw them off of her trail. however, they soon realize that it is genuine in nature. she has no desire to trick people, but it often leads her to forget that not everyone has the same outlook on life.

amiable ; twila has always been friendly and warm in nature. there is little that could sway her from being that way. it gives her a strange sort of charm even though she often leaves people at arm’s length.

impetuous ; being fearless goes hand in hand with being impulsive. twila rarely thinks her actions through to their entirety. instead, she relies heavily on her own instincts.

→ biography

Endymion Apollon was the youngest brother of the High Lord of the Day Court. He was well known in all of Prythian for his magnificent ability to weave spells. There were few who could manage to craft them so impervious to breaking as he. At a young age, it came to light that he would be engaged to the daughter of a High Fae from the Dawn Court named Maricela in order to strengthen the alliance between the two courts. The marriage eventually grew into one of great love and admiration. While Endymion spent most of his days perfecting his particular skill set, Maricela proved herself as a general for the armies of the Day Court. They were each absolutely indispensable assets to the High Lord.

The news that they would soon give birth to a child made the couple overjoyed. Twila was born midsummer. She was the light of her parents' life. The babe wanted for nothing. She was doted upon and fiercely loved every single day, not only by her parents but by anyone who knew her. However, this all changed with the War began. The Day Court had been one of the most staunch supporters of human liberation which meant that the seven years the war raged on had  Endymion and Maricela called to the front lines with their High Lord. There were few times in those years that Twila’s parents had the opportunity to return home and see their child. They could not risk losing any moves. The majority of Twila’s time was spent with her aunt and cousin, who happily raised her while her parents were away. 

During the last year of the war, The Day Court made a stand against the King of Hybern. The battle lasted for two weeks. On the final day, Endymion was struck down first, and then Maricela on her way to her husband’s side. The High Lord did everything in his power to fight his own way to both of them, but was tragically too late to save either. He personally left the front lines of the war, which was nearing its end, to tell Twila what happened himself. He swore to her that she would always be taken care of, and that her place was with her family. The High Lord adopted her as if she were his own daughter and raised her as such. 

Twila had been a child filled with kindness and compassion from a very young age. From the first days that she could speak and walk, she used her time to help others. The little princess would find her way down to the kitchen and help to pour drinks or sift flour. She would always follow around after the maids with a rag of her own despite their constant objections. As she grew older, she gave into her curiosity and loved to explore the far reaches of the surrounding cities. If there were ever a face to look at her in need, the girl did not hesitate to even pull the jewelry from her neck to give away. Why should any go without when she had so much? Her aunt always claimed that she got this trait from her father who was much the same. All that being said, Twila was an equally wild child. Twila would convince her cousin to run through the halls to play tag or hide and seek with her on any given day. She was often found climbing the trellises and statues about the palace. A healer needed to be called in on multiple occasions because she would fearlesses jump from any heights just to see if she could land. Oftentimes she would discover that she could not. 

Twila was truly treated like a daughter to the High Lord. Never once did anyone question her place in the family. However, she always felt as though she did not quite belong. Although no one would verbalize it, Twila could always tell that it was expected that she would one day either grow into her mother’s natural ability to strategize and lead or she would mature into her father’s ability to spellweave. However, Twila was always a strong pacifist. She had no desire to lead people into war when it had done nothing but take her parents from her and leave those she loved scarred from it. When she matured, there was no sign of that spellweaving ability either. In fact, it appeared that she only inherited the traditional magical abilities of those in the family of the High Lord of the Day Court in very small doses. Twila only felt more discouraged by this. She wanted to find a way that she could be of use to the family that had raised her so lovingly. She did not wish to be a burden to them.

That’s how Twila came to the decision to begin studying the ancient tomes housed in the Day Court libraries. The Day Court was well known for having the greatest collection of books in the known world, and Twila was denied access to nothing. She would wake up with the rising sun and spend hours reading through book after book. She would even read well into the night occasionally. Against the rules, Twila would frequently sneak the books away from the libraries to read out in the sunshine, too. This is how things went along for more than a century. Until she was caught by one of the librarians. 

The librarian was a young male by the name of Cato. He’d only recently come into his position and was still in training when he caught the princess sneaking in one of the books that had been previously borrowed and preparing to winnow away another. Cato had been incensed. He could not believe that anyone would be so incredibly short-sighted. He lectured her for nearly an hour afterwards and insisted that she never be left alone with the books again. No one listened to him. Yet, he could always be certain to watch her while she was in the library to ensure that she did not break the rules again.

Before long, the two became friends. Twila admired how strongly he stayed to his convictions and laughed frequently at his sense of humor. Cato realized that Twila was merely passionate and invested in doing for others. They spent nearly every single day together as Twila continually came back to his library. Eventually, they found ways to seek one another out when they were in the company of books. Twila invited him to parties and nights out dancing. Cato invited her out to picnics and to shop in the market. Throughout the following decades, their friendship grew into a deep fondness and then into a blossoming love. Cato asked the High Lord for permission to marry her and was granted it with no hesitation. Twila was overjoyed to have him as a husband. While no mating bond ever slipped into place, Twila was unconcerned with that fact. Her parents had not been mates, either, but they’d been very much in love. 

Before they were wed, an attack happened on the library during the dead of night. Twila awoke to learn that not only had several important spellbooks been raided, but that her fiancé had been killed in an effort to protect the books. It was a shock that cast Twila into a rather deep depression. She no longer had the energy to spend her days running free or helping others. She no longer felt comfortable in the libraries that had been as a second home to her for centuries. Twila, left to her own devices, would lay in her bed for days on end. It was her cousin that pulled her from her self-pity. When the Book of Breathings was nearly stolen, he insisted that Twila become involved. Afterall, who knew books better than she did? She knew the spell to track it off the top of her head. When her cousin was depowered, Twila knew that she could no longer feel sorry for herself. Instead, she pulled her energy into assisting her cousin and researching what the King of Hybern could have done. If there was an answer as to how to reverse the curse in one of the Day Court’s books, Twila would be certain that she found it. No one in all of Prythian had spent more time with books of history, magic, or spells than she had, and that would be a very useful trait when the time came for it.