#zahryaofspring

[thepraetor]

who? @zahryaofspring where? by the snacky snacks

"Zahrya!" Delight fills her features as she sees the Spring fey amidst the crowd of party goers. There is a brief gut reaction that makes her want to frown, but she ignores it, finding it entirely too odd when there is nothing to be afraid regarding the fey before her. Rather, he had always seemed to have special care for faiman, and she is glad to see him. "How are you fairing? Sorry I haven't been able to visit, I can't—," Cloe frowns, puzzled as to why she had been about to say that she can't visit the Faerie's King Forest. Why couldn't she? She and Mery are friends! "I actually don't know why I haven't visit, huh."

[thegoodfellow]

who? @zahryaofspring where? Laurelin, Audulë  notes: doing the randomize top songs thing and got emperor's new clothes by panic! at the disco

"I admit, it is rather impressive to have named yourself a god of fertility and have your Court accept it without complains," Robin admits idly as she comes to stand next to the Dawn Chancellor. Impressive, but ultimately rather annoying too, to see his delusions reach higher and higher everyday. Alas, they do need his expertise, so she can't help but hope that his delusions solidify into something more solid than his own children. It is all good to see more of his children running around, but they need an overall population boom as well. "I will not be praying to you, but I nonetheless hope that your will manifests in a boom of children in all courts."

[thegoodfellow]

"Get a grip, we are at war. I know sex is all new and novel for you, but it will still be there after we defeat the drows," Robin calls out, rolling her eyes at Zahrya's incredible sense of timing. There is a time and a place for everything, and the middle of the battlefield is surely not the time for sex, unless he had the audacity to think they were losing. But if that were the case, she would be more pissed about his lack of faith on their abilities than his desire for one last desperate fuck before he died. "Frankly, I couldn't give less of a fuck of your hot date, considering that we have yet to defeat any drow of importance. "

✿*° ‘° ･

Between the Chancellors being inside of each other and the sensation of crushing the earth beneath their combined power, Zahrya fell out of the Titan leaking nectar like it was the height of spring in spite of his exhaustion. Luckily he didn't fall too far before being scooped into an enormous, scaly bosom which he happily found comfort in. "Chancellor, His Majesty is giving us a wonderful soundtrack for what the mortals call a hot date," Zahrya responds from atop Alastor, barely turning his head to acknowledge Robin. Zahrya's magic reached explosive magnitude when he and Alastor came together, so he was irritated that he had to remove demonic scales from his lips to speak. "I cannot believe you'd interrupt our couple's time for something so trivial. Clearly, I have more urgent matters to attend to than the locations of the others," Zahrya continues, never halting his stroking of Alastor's horn for a second. Yes, Mery's continued destruction of Rome had him feeling incredibly fertile. He never knew war could be so erotic.

[wardercloud]

closed starter for @zahryaofspring​

There was something about the man that had immediately drawn Cloud in. What it was had been a mystery considering they were absolutely nothing alike. To be honest, they thought Zahrya was off of his rocker ninety percent of the time. That didn’t mean much though considering they had thought Theneras was okay for quite a long time. Their wardee was nothing but a memory now. The spring eladrin was still very much alive with yet another changeling. It was very interesting to them. “So how many of these do you have?”

[alastormanifest]

@zahryaofspring location: love is a battlefield notes: kiss kiss fall in love

Destruction like this was foreign to even him. The Inferno was no stranger to violence and bloodshed, but the raw and undaunted power that the Titan exuded was beyond anything that Alastor had bore witness to before. Gray, scaled wings unfurled as hellfire washed across the city, breathed from the demonic manifest's maw as he protected the base of the mighty Titan with visceral need. Alastor could feel the chancellors contesting within, melded together as one as their flurry of conflicting emotions and ideals resounded into something purely chaotic and destructive. Nine days but still all too soon, the creature fell apart and Alastor swooped in to catch his falling Spring king, Zahrya. Depleted, the demon had never felt so little magic within the other, all the more reason to hold him that much closer. "How was it?" Alastor inquired, they'd reunite with the others shortly, for now they remained airborne. "Tell me everything, describe it to me." You better not be having someone else's baby again.

[avengingsoranus]

@zahryaofspring location: Dawn Court notes: Dad's home

"Why Zahrya you're-" Soranus' features softened as he looked upon the chancellor, the elf was radiating. Warm and glowing, he'd heard about the miracles that the chancellor had produced, even now as cold winds blew in from the mountains of the Lunar court, life was springing forth again. It was worthy of celebration. "Zahrya, you're glowing." Soft hands cupped the chancellor's cheeks, he was beautiful, perfect in every way. His mother would have been proud. "Can I meet them? Your children? I'm sorry I've been away I-" Changed. "I've missed you."

[thegoodfellow]

chancellorxlaer​:

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

....

There is a weight that comes with being the survivor of a tragedy, to bear witness to your world falling apart from the seams even as you attempt to keep it together. Robin is too far to stop the Drow Queen, too far to do anything but watch as the Court’s suffer yet another blow, one she does not know how they will recover from. Titania, their home, Fen’harel, Aurora and now Meryasek? It has been blow after blow, no break in between. It’s been a long arduous year, a year full of grief and loss, and they seem to keep losing no matter what they attempt. It is far too much grief, far too much misery, bottled and kept inside for too long for her to be able to keep a hold of it any longer. The vessel on her chest, the one where she keeps all her worries and grief and empathy, shatters under the pressure of seeing the corpse of yet another friend, of another loved one, before her. The first crack had appeared in Halloween, deepened further by Wade’s betrayal, but this, for Hyrsam to ensure that his King’s funeral would also becomes Meryasek’s? Over and over again, she had considered peace, had considered unity between species as a solution to their current conflicts.

No more.

The world had turned their back to the fey, it’s only fair they do the same. Anger bypasses grief, her song joining Laer’s in order to keep the pretense of an united front before their people and their enemies alike. Flames gather around them, the fire preventing anyone but the chancellor’s from reaching their fallen King. As she steps closer, Robin allows herself a brief moment to grieve for who they had lost, to grieve for her friend, gone where they could not follow after doing his all to protect their people. He had risen beyond any of the expectations placed on him, and his death was yet another injustice struck against the fey.

Alas, death takes kings and paupers alike.

Eyes snapping open, Robin let’s out a whistle, high and sharp, and sends her own changeling to reinforce the borders as a precaution. Zahrya will do his duty, but any help will be a kindness for the Spring Chancellor.

“Do not stand around, we cannot afford to remain frozen,” Robin snaps out, voice sharp and cutting through the grief beginning to overwhelm the court. “Gather the children, ensure they are kept safe, place the death together and notify next of kin. Now.”

Eyes going back to Zahrya, she bites her lip and tentatively places her hand upon his shoulder in comfort. There had been a tension between the two since that conversation near the pond, but there cannot be infighting if they want to survive, weakened as they are. “Not now Zahrya,” she offers, voice soft yet kind. “We will have our time for grieve later, but now? Now we must ensure that Meryasek’s work does not go to waste.”

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

[meryasek]

@zahryaofspring Location: them new courts

Jacarandas fell around the two of them, but this was the border between the Dawn Court and the Daemon Court, as ordinary perhaps as it could be. Meryasek no longer wished to be king of the Elves, creatures that would never accept him for the other half of what he was. Archfey and archfiend, he stood there now, reunited with Zahrya once more. They hadn't talked much since Mery had tossed the elven crowd and burned it in his hellfire. He'd created a new one, fit for the daemons of his court as he let his wings stretch wide. His horns still shined beneath his curls, his irises flashing red as he stood with his old friend, "Well? What do you think? Spring may not answer to me anymore, but I thought I'd fill this section with my favorite tree." His song still held power, and while he was more fiend than fey, Titania's fondness for these things still ran through his blood.

[micahwright]

@zahryaofspring location: Fey Forest notes: Uncle ZahZah why r u leaking

This forest was supposed to have houses and shit, though Micah hadn't seen much but trees yet. Maybe he'd taken a wrong turn, his clairvoyance wasn't working that well anymore and after a few twists he could have sworn he'd passed that same tree about a dozen times before. "Oh hey," Micah said as he saw someone that he vaguely recognized, "I uh, I almost didn't know it was you. You look different." Zahrya had given birth to three children, underwent a metamorphosis, and was now an elf instead of an eladrin. "Looks good on you man, say, do you know how I can get back to lycanville?"

[xlogonx]

@zahryaofspring

The architect of the Summer Court had done what he could, but nothing was greater than the idea of a safe haven for children, for the summer shores were bright and hot, but beneath the waves? Calm and cool for those that wanted shelter within it. He knew the Spring Chancellor was a frequent visitor, the tiefling child enjoying heat, and Logon was more than happy to oblige. Who knew? An Avariel would be in his future, that much he was sure, but there was still fear. Logon was terrified of the land they'd created being invaded once more, of the elves falling as their great empires had once again. Nevertheless, Zahrya and his boundless fertility seemed to find him, "Chancellor. Here to enjoy the pink sand?"

[alekgray]

@zahryaofspring​ location: Luberfest notes: post gauntlet

“I thought of a way that you can help me.” Alek offered as the Spring chancellor approached, the lycan sat hunched on the bench of his tent, wounds patched over but still raw even as his accelerated healing worked to mend them over. At Zahrya’s approach he found he could think more clearly, though by now he’d come to terms with why that was: some spell of the mind that confused his senses, dulled them to that of whatever dimwitted pup would suit the chancellor’s needs. It was alright, Alek appreciated the peace that came with the simplicity of the other’s presence. He was, after all, the only one who’d come looking for him when Alek was gone, the only one who’d called to him when he was trapped in the bowels of the beast. “I met someone,” he thought of Lain, “who mastered himself by eating the heart of a changeling.” He remembered the beasts that stalked Zahrya’s forest and knew from the masquerade that the creation of these monstrosities was within the realm of the fey’s magic. “I’d like one.” 

[seeingvivianne]

Time: Late Morning Location: One of them communal gardens in a city, specifically the same one she’d met August in so I assume a lot of people end up finding her there lol Characters: @zahryaofspring & @seeingvivianne​

Her reading for the day had foretold a significant stranger coming, so Vivianne set out around the time she expected them to show up  and headed elsewhere rather than staying at the Dahlia House. The witches had only just decided to pardon their Sovereign and tentatively revisit some of their laws, on the grounds that they’d been saved and spent so long debating and deciding. Things were still tense at home and they would be tenser still if she welcomed in what she realized would likely be the fey Spring Chancellor, as there were a lot of whispers about the man. So Vivianne waited in her favorite communal garden, which was mostly barren for winter, with the expectation that it would suit them both more. A ball of warming fire followed her as she heard him approach the gate and she stepped forward to welcome him. “You’re early,” she observed, though not unpleasantly. And no one had told her he’d come, or that he’d been interested in seeing her. “Welcome, Chancellor. Would you like to walk or sit?” Eyeing him with interest but gathering no immediate Sight or information, Vivianne gestured her head for Zahrya to follow her.

[farenduil]

Location: fancy fey woods Person: old yeller @zahryaofspring​

“Here, try this. Not as bad as the whiskey this time.” Coming up to Zahrya and immediately putting an arm around his shoulder, Farenduil hands him a flask. It’s some mortal gimmick he thinks, something he’d noticed and found amusing. The little silver trinket was something he’d picked up at the market decades ago and now it was charmed to be bottomless for the evening. He’d been in and out of the mortal market with the veil so thin, attending as many festivities as he could. He thinks he’s going to need it, all the joy he could possibly muster before the senate met again and they were all thrown into chaos because of it. They had enough chaos right there, and that was counting just Zahrya, if the whisperings proved true.  There was a part of him that couldn’t let it be true. When he’d last been to see Titania, he’d wondered what he was to do with his very foundation crumbling away. Standing there next to the spring chancellor in his very mortal civilian clothes, Farenduil knows Zahrya is a part of that foundation, that he’s been a pillar for centuries. “It’s hot chocolate, but they’ve added this sweet red wine to it.” 

[aegnorx]

@zahryaofspring

“I have heard talk that you would kiss the very ground your excuse of a Queen walked on,” the words were stated so plainly, the hint of mocking interlacing with each one. His duty was to bring forth the soldiers of Ayi’ig, to shepherd the dark into the mortal realm, and to rid it of the Eladrin that slithered over its streets. “How truly pathetic.”

[thegoodfellow]

who? @zahryaofspring

where? the faerie queen’s forest, spring’s gardens

Robin has rarely been one for pensive moods, not when she could be doing productive or interesting with her time. And yet, things have slowly been devolving since the moment she returned to Rome, leaving her off balance. It comes at no surprise, then, that she has taken to wander the newly deemed faerie queen’s forest. She is on the Spring’s Gardens, sitting next to a pond as some of the dandelion hedgehogs nap next to her, when she hears a familiar set of steps approach. For a moment she does not look from where she is petting one of the little dears, but then she slowly raises her head and nods at the other Chancellor.

“Good afternoon, Zahrya. I must compliment you for your garden’s, they are breathtaking.”

[healerswanford]

who? @zahryaofspring

where? Isabella’s office

Isabella watches as her patient leaves in a rush and sighs, making a mental note to contact them later and refer them to one of her colleagues as she is sure any sort of trust between the two of them was gone the moment the Spring Chancellor popped into existence in the middle of their session. She would have tried to kick Zahrya out, but frankly, she had heard rumors about his behavior and they don’t bode anything good. That, and if he is seeking her out, it means he wants to talk, even if he denies the fact that he so very clearly needs her services. She made an oath to her patients, and she will do everything to keep it even when they themselves do not see themselves as her patients.

“Greetings Spring Chancellor,” she greets, once the door closes behind her other patient, eyes moving back to the fey that had appeared in the middle of her office by an act of magic. “How can I be of service on this fine morning? Did you want to discuss something?”