#t: geneva d'amati tulloch

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Ceyla + Geneva @lepinedoree​

“Ceyla,” The high fae sang the young healer’s name as she approached. Already in a good mood, Geneva offered the other fae a bit of a spin as she neared, a genuine grin on her features. She was happy to see Ceyla. “There you are!” Some time had passed since Geneva last saw her. Hell, even more time before that, since the designer was last in spring court. But today, she hoped to change that. The high fae didn’t plan on relocating to Ceyla’s home court, no matter how beautiful. But she did wish to spend more time with her good friend. Lastly, with the daunting reminder from the resistance’s attack on all back at autumn court, Geneva was reminded abruptly how short time truly was. And so, on her way back home to dawn, she stopped by to see Ceyla.

“You’re making that face again. All-” She stopped, dark brows lowering on her forehead as she jokingly mimicked Ceyla’s expression. “Looking adorably astute as always.” Geneva complimented. “Let me guess.” A light brown finger raised to gently tap at her chin in mock thought before continuing. “You’re trying to cure another mysterious illness? Or solve a new healer’s treatment riddle?” Blue eyes narrowed playfully as they met Ceyla’s own. “Am I even close to guessing correctly?” In all truth, Geneva doubted that she was. But she was okay with that. The fae enjoyed not knowing everything. She liked to encounter her world with a hint of mystery and a curious heart. It made things interesting. “I come with an inquiry. How would you like to accompany to the Golden City soon? I have a business meeting there and would love for you to join me. We’ll be safe.” Geneva cast a glance behind herself, at the new shadows she’d grown as protection. They came courtesy of the duke of night court - her newly discovered father. She pointed the two fae out to Ceyla. One was a warrior, clearly defined by their wings, and the other was high fae, their own wings glamoured away. “I promise. So, what do you say? I can and will pout until you agree. Forewarning you now.”

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Iris + Geneva @theartofruling​

​As a high fae from an renown family of artists within dawn, Geneva wasn’t opposed to nobility. It wasn’t uncommon for the designer to be assumed as one based off of her patrons and close friends. Nor did Geneva feel out of sorts around them. Whenever she interacted with nobles. One thing held true in the fae’s experience with them - regardless of court and affiliation, those of high rank and aristocratic lineage were still people. Fae or otherwise. Still, on a personal level, those with the closest ties and influence to power, were different. The air about them, in Eva’s experience, was in a league of its own. The young fae was confident in her skills and talent as both a custom clothier and a business owner. Still, Geneva purposely shied away from all things political. One false move and the very door one thought was an escape into a new bout of freedom could easily become a prison instead. Those with influence, from what she saw and knew, tended to be more... fickle. With less patience for many things. Sure, the dawn fae was sought out heavily for her designs. Which was, in and of itself, a true blessing. Geneva still practiced wisdom when accepting patrons. Thus far, the caution worked well in her favor.

And then she received word, a notice even, with the seal of a house that recently usurped dawn’s vacant throne. It was a simple thing. A mere invitation of... well... her to meet the newly restored crown princess, Iris Wakefield, in Lumenopolis. At the castle. Yes, she was a Tulloch, born and raised in dawn. Quite proud of that fact, in all truth, as her homecourt was the most beautiful to her. She truly flourished and was protected there. Thus who was Geneva to deny such an invitation? Certainly, not a fool. And so the designer politely accepted. Perhaps the princess was more removed from the newly forming inner circle of dawn’s reconstructing power structure than Geneva assumed. “Your grace,” She greeted Iris with a deep curtsy and a bow of her head. From what she knew of the princess, Iris Wakefield was very fashionable. She was also a nymph. And while Geneva certainly had access and patrons that were members of the Garden themselves, it wouldn’t hurt for her to expand her business further. “Thank you for inviting me. I was unaware that you were interested in my work. But it’s an honor to have been wrong in that regard. I hope you don’t mind but...” The designer trailed off as her assistant, Sergio, brought in a beautiful gown. “I was raised never to arrive empty-handed anywhere. And well, I’d designed this and thought it a perfect fit for you.” She paused, blue eyes carefully watching Iris and her reaction. “Was I right in my assessment of you, your grace?”

Regardless of Geneva’s apprehension of aligning herself with politically influential individuals, she was no simpleton. After the invitation, she’d studied and reviewed what she could on the fashion sense of one Iris Wakefield. While she wouldn’t blatantly attempt to curry favor with Iris, the designer wouldn’t offer the princess anything less than her best. If her court’s princess was to be a new patron of hers, Geneva would extend the same, mutually-respectable courtesy that she gave all whom became her patrons. She was a business woman and provided a service. One of which was in demand. “I thought the color would fare well against your skin tone. Maybe bring out the color of your eyes. And yes, I was able to retrieve your measurements. If you would like to try it on, please do. Feel free.”

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Wren + Geneva @theartofruling​

“Lady Wren,” The designer greeted one of her favorite patron with a grin as the high fae entered the sitting room she’d been waiting for her in. The dawn fae, warm-blooded as she was, normally didn’t visit winter court. Not that either courts were enemies, last Geneva knew, they were not. Nor did she care for such things if they were. Lady Wren Hartwell had been a patron of hers long before she changed courts for love. Such a reason that Geneva understood and respected. While she’d been propositioned herself to do the same, depending on the lover, the appeal of leaving dawn eluded Eva. Dawn was her home. She felt welcomed there. So, lover or not, at dawn, Geneva stayed. 

But even the younger fae knew that lover and mate were two different things. Unlike Wren, she did not have one. “Even though I have no idea how you get used to the arctic chill here, I love how I can see that winter agrees with you. That you were made for it.” She moved to hug Wren. “I’ve finished those last two designs for when you return to spring.” A golden glint caught Geneva’s attention and one of her own hands moved, gently taking hold of Wren’s left hand. “...Is this what I think it is?” She asked, already aware that her inquiry was rhetorical. Delighted blue eyes glanced up and met Wren’s gaze, the lady’s hand still in her grasp. “Are you returning to spring?” She wondered aloud. “Or will I be commissioned to design an entirely new gown for you soon? One more fit for winter’s weather?”

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Jacen + Geneva @theartofruling​

Geneva had yet to return home, to the safety and comfort of dawn. The high fae knew that her family were awaiting her arrival. She had sent word to them after all. But before Geneva would return home to dawn, her newfound father, Jacques Dubois, asked her to stay at his estate while he readied... well... protection for her journey. Which was unfamiliar to Geneva. The daughter of an opera singer, her mother, and a talented merchant, her other father; the dawn fae was used to traveling whenever the fancy struck her. But even her father, Lorenzo D’Amati agreed with Jacques, the two had exchanged expediated correspondence by courier, and wished for Geneva’s guaranteed safe return. 

And so, the fae remained in night court. The home of her father, who was a duke therein. She’d visited the court before. Geneva wasn’t unfamiliar to the streets of the Jeweled City. But upon learning that a part of her, however slight, belonged there - it felt different. Almost like a newfound embrace. Perhaps hesitant but still there and available to her. Geneva viewed the current works displayed in her father’s gallery, a fact that would take time for her to fully accept, and other places that interested her. She’d most certainly shopped enough. Somehow, long after the sun had fallen, Geneva found herself in a lounge. She’d entertained a few suitors, her French was poor at best, but luckily they spoke some of the other languages she did. She’d returned to the bar when blue eyes fell upon on a large fae, his back broad and what appeared to be tattoos visibly cascading down his uncovered arms. 

“You’re beautiful.” She marveled aloud to him without shame, attracting his attention. The fae was not one to bid her tongue or hinder compliments. Especially when she encountered those worthy of them. It was in her very nature to find the enchantment in all things. It was what made Geneva great as a designer. “Please tell me that you’re not here alone and brooding. You’re far too astounding a vision to not ask if I can join you. Buy you a drink even.” She sent him a smile. “Is this seat taken?” She asked, slim hand motioning towards the seat next to him at the bar. “I’m Geneva. And I have two more questions for you. Is there anything I can do to get you to smile before I leave? Second, please tell me you have a name as enchanting as that handsome face of yours?” She paused, a thought coming to her. “Lastly, if I’m disturbing you, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention. I just... I couldn’t help but notice you and felt the need to say that. Would you like me to leave you and your drink in peace?” Geneva faltered, for a moment, realization dawning on her. A light blush tinted her cheeks as she spoke again. “Forgive me, handsome. Apparently, I had three questions instead of two.”

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Rowan + Geneva @theartofruling​

While Geneva avoided political information out of pure disinterest, there was one thing it awarded her on a personal level. As a dawn fae, she was more than welcomed to visit the bustling hub that was the stunning Golden City of day court. Even Geneva could admit that the ease with which she traveled back and forth from dawn to day was a wonderful consequence of both courts being officially allied. She’d visited the beautiful sands and beaches of day court countless of times. Most of which on business as she accompanied her father, Enzo, in his merchant endeavors. 

One thing that Geneva hoped, quietly in her big curious heart and mind, was to open another boutique within the fashion district of the Golden City. Many a fae and influential humans visited the hub. Specifically that portion of the city. It was, all pun aside, a literal gold mine waiting for her to set up shop. But the fae knew that with business came details and negotiations and all the unglamorous things that came with beginning again in a new court. First things first, Geneva D’Amati Tulloch had to request an audience with the high lady of day court. And so, she did. Today was that day. Geneva stood, unsettled, as she awaited to be called for her meeting with Rowan Hartwell in the immaculate area. The color scheme was akin to a dream. Every detail, from the colors chosen to the tiles beneath her feet, had all been chosen for a purpose. Even Geneva herself knew that nothing was chosen carelessly in day court. Let alone the interior design of the waiting area in which she stood to be seen by its high lady. 

The high fae had brought with her a trusted friend, whom herself was sight seeing in enjoying all that the court had to offer. One of her family’s servants, one with a natural interest and talent for detail himself, Sergio was with Geneva in the lobby. “I can take it from here.” She informed Sergio, steeling herself and lifting her head high as she took in the design she’d created specifically for Rowan Hartwell in mind. “Your grace,” Geneva greeted, curtsying deeply before walking towards the head of the table where the high lady sat. “I made this. For you. It’s a twofold gift. First, it is a token of my appreciation for your receiving me. Second, I would like your... blessing, dare say, to accept my petition to extend my business and open a second boutique within your capitol city. In the fashion district.” Geneva began before uncovering her design and laying it carefully on the table, in front of Rowan. “You’re incredibly fashionable and I would be honored if you not only accepted my design. But wore it. ...Even moreso, if I could share my talent with your beautiful court.”