fair fey

Tara was…not Hazel’s favorite place. Despite the fact that she knew it was in her head, every shift in the breeze seemed to bring the scent of blood and smoke. There were ghosts here and they weren’t the friendly sort. She tried to put it out of her mind, though, and get into the spirit of the holiday. Part of which included giving Cobalt a hard time. 

Long hair flicked easily over her shoulder as she shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t officially signed up for anything yet. But I thought singing or dancing might be fun. Or wrestling. That’s what you’re doing right?” she asked innocently, though the spark of mischief in her eyes gave away that she knew the answer already. “I mean, I’ve wrestled my brothers before. Not formally or anything, but I’m scrappy. Might be fun. What do you think?”

It wouldn’t be a day ending in ‘Y’ if Hazel wasn’t giving him a hard time. Describing Hazel and her habits usually involved a fair amount of hopeless hand gesturing and wordless noises. Cobalt, a creature who tried to balance gentleness and violence at all times, often found Hazel pushing him haplessly towards the former. This was no exception.

Cobalt fixed her with what he hoped was a stern look, though the grin tugging at the corners of his lips did a hell of a lot to negate it entirely. “Zinnia’s doing singing, and you can’t dance,” he pointed out. “You-- wait. You want to wrestle?”

“Singing!” Zinnia exclaimed cheerfully. Days of glaring across the room towards Cobalt and whispering wishes of death upon the man she believed to have murdered her father were now long gone. Buried along with what’s left of Zinnia the Young Unseelie.  Zinnia appeared to have her head in the clouds sometimes, or even deliberately portraying herself as an airhead, but she’s almost certain Cobalt could see through that. After all, she’d survived an Ordeal, and well - the glares might have tipped him off. But now… now her cheerfulness and carefree behavior was borne out of a genuine yearning to be part of the Seelie. Here in Tara, magic felt more vibrant. She had to admit ( though she would never let the words come out of her mouth ) that the magic of the Unseelie (as she remembers it) feels much stronger than her now coveted Seelie Court. Among her list of wishes was for the magic in her Court to be back to how it was before.  “You’re probably gonna go for wrestling or boxing, right? Super predictable, Cobalt. And you’re only joining because you know you’re gonna win. Where’s the challenge in that?” she teased and taunted, with a sly grin on her face. Her relationship with Cobalt has taken a very dramatic turn ever since she learned the truth. At first, she was trying to compensate for all the years she had thought of him as guilty, but now she just genuinely enjoyed his company. In a strange twist of events, she now considers him kind of a brother figure.  “I, for one, would be very impressed if you win the story-telling or weaving competition.” Zinnia already had plans to bet against him in these competitions. “Or go against me! Though I can’t promise I would go easy on you.”

It had occurred to Cobalt, once or twice over the years, that if he were really desperate enough to father a child, he could face an Ordeal and simply-- switch. Such terrible thoughts were saved for the darkest of days, when Willow shut themselves into the bedroom or bath and tried to pretend they weren’t as broken-hearted as they were. The words froze on his tongue the one time he managed to open his mouth in an effort to actually say them. The thought was beyond ridiculous-- giving up everything they’d both worked for, giving up their entire shared life together and the family they’d built rather than borne had to have been too much to ask. (That Willow was willing to do exactly that and without his consent-- exactly that and without giving up their court-- Danu, his heart would break to think of it.)

Such thoughts were not welcome at Lugnasad, no matter which former member of what court stood before him. Zinnia’s smile was as bright as Tiffany crystal, and Cobalt was grateful for the distraction. She’d have been wasted in the Unseelie court, or so he told himself whenever he remembered that he had been responsible of one death of sorts in her family-- of her Unseelie self. “I like to win,” he countered, shrugging those massive shoulders he carried with him. “Sue me.” 

“Willow’s the story-teller, and I’ve broken one too many knuckles to weave.” Cobalt knew his weaknesses as well as he knew his strengths. “What about you? What are you gonna do if Larkspur sings this year?” 

Things can break in one of two ways. They can break in chaos - with an almighty crash, splintering into a thousand pieces, some too small for the naked eye.  Or, they can break in silence - an emptiness that deafens, a hole that threatens to swallow you whole. The breakdown of her parents marriage followed the latter pattern, a slow poison that drew them into the arms of other lovers. Willow never contemplated what the sound of their marriage dying would sound like. They never thought they’d have to. Because…well…she and Cobalt were different, weren’t they? They were soulmates, meant to be. They shared a vision for a future. They wanted to grow together. 

But sometimes, you fall apart because the weight of what you want threatens to crush you. Sometimes, you fall apart not because you want different things, but because you want the same thing so desperately that you kill parts of yourself to have it. Did I do this? Willow wonders, Cobalt’s voice mournfully honest. Did I murder us? Is it too late? Their breaking isn’t silence, but it isn’t loud either. Perhaps this isn’t breaking then, perhaps this is simply a strain, a tear at a fabric, but one that can be mended. Maybe there’s hope.

“Don’t hide it.” They’re pleading now, voice straining with desperation. Willow can’t fool themselves into thinking that tricking themselves into a pattern of ignorance was working - because clearly, they’re making themselves miserable. Each one of them pretending that they aren’t breaking to save the other. How ironic. “Let’s not…” They cut themselves off, not even sure what she’s asking of herself, let alone him. “Let’s stop pretending. Stop…lying to ourselves. And I, to you.” It was only one lie. But it wasn’t white. It was black and seeping, toxic and polluted. It was a dagger, sent to tear them apart. Danu, when did I become my parents? “Let’s admit what we want. A child. I want a baby with your eyes and your smile. And, Danu willing, your heart. You’re my family, but I want it to grow.” There’s no time for stop-gap measures. They have to move forward. 

“This isn’t yours to fix.” More steady now, Willow calms their voice, forcing themselves to remain calm. In this aspect, they’re certain. Cobalt has always been the heart of the court - steadfast in his loyalty and duty. It’s who he is. And to ask him to betray that…well that’s a sort of murder too. “It’s mine.” Quieter now, she steps forward, a spies instincts taking over. “I would never ask you to corrupt yourself for me, for us, for our child.” And that’s what it’ll take. It’ll take a revolution, a fundamental change in the court - a rebellion against a King. “Waiting isn’t working. The scientists aren’t fixing anything. The court is waning. And…it’s falling apart. The whole court is torn at the seams. There’s no end in sight. I have to do something else.” 

Cobalt knew that strain in Willow’s voice all too well. When each test came back negative. When an Unseelie babe was announced. He could never pinpoint exactly when their hope had faded beyond repair, but it seemed to slip lower still with every conversation like this. The depth of his bond with his wife was a double edged sword, after all: he felt her happiness and her triumphs as much as he felt this gaping emptiness. He’d never imagined that his own grief was greater than hers, just-- different. Different. 

His hands left his sides to twist together in front of him, left tugging idly at the fingers of his right. He’d held Willow’s hand for so long now that the feeling of his own was somehow wrong, unnatural, simply because it wasn’t theirs. He knew his wife inside and out, and would wager money on it; no amount of distance between them could erase his fundamental understanding of who she was at her core. The secret simmering beneath the surface of their troubled mind was beyond his fathoming. It wasn’t naivety, exactly, so much as a blind trust so deep that it left him incapable of guessing what was to come. 

“It isn’t mine,” he agreed, trying not to wince. He’d go to the ends of their earth and this one to fix it if he could. “It isn’t yours either.” He chanced a step forward. Willow, distraught, either needed space or an utter lack of it. He was happy to offer either then, if only to stop-gap her unhappiness away. “It’s Adare’s, Willow, but-- there is an end in sight, isn’t there? He’s having a child.” Another child. Neither Cobalt nor Willow had brought up the pregnancy, not even once. Whether or not it could fix the court didn’t seem to make the pill any less bitter to swallow. Even now, even while pressed, Cobalt felt his throat close around the words as if he was going to choke on them. Adare is having his fifth child, and we have no hope for one. “He’s fixing things-- isn’t he?” 

Though An Fidchell was not his favourite of events, and the ending of the game had left one hell of a sour taste in his mouth, Lugnasad held a special place in his heart. Feats of strength and folly were exactly up his alley, but the specific goings-on never failed to surprise. Cobalt liked to win and chose his games appropriately. Not all of his brethren felt the same. 

She glanced down at the can in her hand again. Tea did sound better, but it probably wouldn’t be as effective at keeping her awake. Hopefully the little bit of the energy drink she’d had would be enough for her to make it until the group wanted to quit gambling. 

“Deal,” she said, “This really is awful… my brother drinks them all the time, I don’t know how. I can make it if you’re busy though…” She wasn’t sure if he needed to stay and lurk. 

The spenders had seen him, and that was threat enough. He’d been present more often than not throughout the evening. The goal wasn’t for them to feel intimidated to the point of distraction by him-- that would undoubtedly interrupt the spending they were so hell-bent on taking part in, after all-- but to casually make sure they knew he was present in the building and could be called upon at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t like they could do much damage to anyone or anything of worth if they tried to, either way. 

They liked to think they were brave enough to live in a world where they didn’t make excuses for themselves. The truth, no matter how much it hurt, was worth facing up to - a virtue on its own. Seelie’s might flinch at painful honesty, wrap themselves in their delusions and continue to laugh, but Willow had never been one of them. There was no comfort to be found in deceit. It could only ruin. She didn’t know what would hurt Cobalt more - that she hadn’t told him, or that she had no real reason why. 

Adare had forbade her. So what? Some things triumphed loyalty to a King. Dedication to a court. Love for a soulmate. Hopes and dreams that had only been whispered at the peak of midnight. If they were willing to rebel against Adare on so many, too many some might say, things, then the spark should have been there for this too.

So why wasn’t it?

Perhaps it was fear. A cowardice that came from the idea of false hope - of raising the prospect of a child, of believing in a solution, only to have it torn away. Science was a marvel. Science could cure diseases and rid the human world of pain. But they were not humans. It wasn’t a judgement, but a fact. And thus far, the tests had failed. Adare might speak of promising results - but Knox had all but been declared an enemy. The progress would be wiped out.

Being this close to touching something and then having it ripped away was more painful than never having had it at all, wasn’t it?

Neither one could answer the other.

They flinched as Cobalt spoke, face to face with the raw tension that had bubbled up to the surface. It was just the two of them now. There was no more room to pretend, no more family members to be strong for. We have to, she thought, desperate and weeping, we cannot become the husband and wife who do not talk. Everyone knew that was the first step down the path to destruction. One day, you’d wake up to find your relationship in tatters, wondering where it had all gone wrong. “Please.” 

This wasn’t just about yesterday’s mistake. This was about the promise of tomorrow. About the Holly Rebellion. This was not the right time to tell him, but maybe there would never be one.

“I’m sorry.” Children thought those two words could make everything better. If they ever had a child, Willow would make sure they knew it didn’t. “I should have told you. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, or because Adare asked me not to. It’s because…I was terrified. Because, we’ve wanted this - a child - for so long.” As her voice started to crack, Willow pulled herself together. “But we don’t speak about it, do we? We can’t admit to ourselves how much we want it, because we’d just be hurting each other. Because, for so long, we’ve been powerless, waiting for forces bigger than us to fall into place.” Breathless, they paused, letting their words soak in. “This program was hope. Half of me wanted to believe in it. The other half didn’t. It wanted to wait for evidence, for proof. Because I couldn’t imagine…what it would be like, to have a child - and then lose them all over again. Maybe I wanted to protect you from that. Maybe I was being selfish - and I wanted to protect myself. Maybe I just wanted to keep things the way they’ve always been with us…or turn back time.”

Seelies might flinch at unfettered honesty, but above even Seelie they were fey. Cobalt had promised Willow that he’d always share the most honest version of the truth with them, and he had genuinely believed that Willow had felt the same. They’d decided together that the truth was better than white lies, or had that been so long ago she’d forgotten? Had it been so long ago that he was remembering a different conversation entirely, was writing over a memory with fabricated dialogue from a talk he only wished they’d had? 

It wasn’t the lie that hurt him so deeply, like a thorn worried deep into the cavern of his chest-- not a deadly wound, or even a threatening one, but an annoyance that was worrisome enough to warrant attention beyond distraction. It wasn’t even the content of the secret itself that bothered him. It was that this, this beyond all else, was a glaring indication that the faults in their marriage to which he’d been turning a blind eye for so long had risen from the foundation to the very rafters. He was losing his wife. He was losing his home, letting it slip from his loosened fingers. What happened to us, Willow? 

When he found his tongue again, his voice was hoarse, rubbed raw by words unsaid. “How do you not know, ‘Lo? I keep my mouth shut because I know how much you want to have a baby and--” Stop. Slow down. Rewind. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a scant moment, hands balling into loose fists as he forced his broad shoulders to relax. “You aren’t the only one, Willow. I don’t talk to you about it because I don’t want to put my broken heart on your shoulders-- because I’m supposed to be helping yours, you know? But I want this too, Willow, and I’m tired of hiding it. You really think Onyx didn’t teach me how post on TTC blogs and check WebMD? I learned to use the internet for this, ‘Lo. There’s no thinking we’re having a child, there never has been, not for me-- there’s only been the loss. It isn’t stopping me from being hopeful. But we can’t turn time back to how things were before we realized that--” 

Among all the fey that Forest had gotten to know over the last few years of his life, Cobalt was among the very few that he would say he trusted completely. There was no malice or ill will in his actions and he’d done nothing but try and help Forest find his way. Granted he was one of the bruisers of the court, one of the guardians that protected the casino and Seelie alike - but Forest wasn’t afraid of him. There was a kindness in his heart despite his intimidating exterior.

Plus, there were times when Forest just needed to let out his frustrations and Cobalt was among the few who would withstand his anger without questioning it, who seemed to understand without needing to know. Forest was never much of a talker, preferring doing and action over discussion. Discussing was a waste of time. 

It had been a month to the day since the latest Fidchell had come to a close - a month since losing for players and another one to the city, with no memories. A month where he’d needed to switch tracks from them to a new start, another game so quickly closing in. A year sounded like plenty of time, but when it came down to learning about these people and how best they’d play on the board, Forest would always feel a need for more. They deserved more, far more than he could ever give. 

The fingers of his right hand fisted, thumb of his left running over knuckles as Cobalt approached. “You sure you’re up for it, old man?” Forest teased, flashing the guardian a playful smirk. Cobalt may be old by human standards, having over one hundred years of experience beyond the young halfling’s lifetime, but he was still plenty young by fey standards, and Forest had no doubts in his ability to put up a fight. Hell, Cobalt was far better than him in nearly all standards, but that didn’t keep him from enjoying the occasional spar. Or calling out the one advantage he did have. “I can go easy on you if you need me to.” 

Was it wrong for Cobalt to admit he was glad Forest was fey? He’d never admit as much aloud-- to be thankful Forest had used his wish as he did meant being thankful Forest had lost his father, however abstractly those lines might be drawn. The youngling was Seelie to his core, what with that smooth smile and sharp teeth. Cobalt appreciated his beauty for what it was, all lean lines and the broad shoulders he’d brought along from his past life. 

Forest was right to not fear Cobalt. Though he’d bestowed more than his fair share of bruises, they were only deployed when a lesson needed to be learned, not for the sake of pain itself. This violence with Forest was a different world entirely than that which was wrought with Ember: it was brought forth using a teaching hand, never a punishing one. Cobalt didn’t readily admit that when he thought about training with Forest, a part of him imagined training his own son by blood. He wasn’t presumptuous enough to assume that was the role he played in Forest’s perspective. Forest had a father of his own that he’d loved so dearly and lost too soon. 

Cobalt watched the boy’s hands as he approached, an idle smile on his face. The posturing before a fight was a habit he’d broken long ago. Cobalt’s own massive shoulders stayed relaxed, hands loose at his sides. The last time he’d let Forest distract him within arm’s reach, he’d wound up flat on his back with the belly laugh from Forest’s joke still fresh on his lips. Fool me twice, after all. Forest had learned the trick off fucking YouTube, of all places. Cobalt had had to ask Onyx to point him in the right direction. 

Quinn spared a smile for the feyry Guardian, picking up on the tension riding through him. Usually, Cobalt was fairly at ease and calm, calming even. Not so much, right then. “No way!” they insisted. “And, also, the Cyclone is not a monstrosity. Dude. It’s a classic.” They nodded along, as if imparting some ancient wisdom. Which was a little ironic, considering who was the fey between them. “Do you not like rides or something?” Maybe that was the cause of the vibes Cobalt was putting out.

Cobalt’s nose wrinkled just a bit as he eyed up the so-called Cylone. Cobalt remembered well the last time a hurricane had rattled the windows in New York-- when Sandy hit in 2012, the flooded underground and the problems for the casino that ensued had been some of the lesser of their concerns. He’d never really understood mankind’s tendency for naming the mundane after catastrophes. He reckoned part of it was the lack of understanding exactly where much of the wildness in their world came from. 

As always, the simple sound of it was enough to dampen the inferno in her chest. She hadn’t stopped burning since Fidchell but Cobalt’s deep voice soothed some of the flames. Ember loved him for that alone. “I mean, we could play the game where we pretend that I don’t end up stealing food off your plate no matter what each of us orders but we both know that’s a complete lie.” She flashed a toothy, white smile at him. “And we both know I can’t lie.”

Ember glanced down at the menu, grateful for the mention of wings. Come to think of it, she could go for some of those too. “Let’s not waste time and just go big. We can get the wing sampler platter with four of each of their famous wings AND all their dips.” After folding up her menu and setting it on the bartop, she took a sip of her drink. “And, obviously, the nachos are a thing. Denying ourselves them just seems like unnecessary punishment.”

Despite her her confident tone, Ember leaned in toward Cobalt and brushed her shoulder against his. It was a soft greeting, an unspoken thank you for simply being there, even if it was purely by chance. 

“Busy night?”

A big job deserved a big appetite, or so he’d always claimed. He and Ember had spent too much time together since the very beginning of their career, all through the shared trajectory that catapulted them both to the position of Guardian. They were well-matched in many ways, be it the several similarities or countless complements. Ember’s hunger for violence was roughly on par with her hunger for food, and that suited Cobalt just fine. 

“Sampler platter and nachos,” he agreed. “But I want the breakfast, too.” 

How can so much personality fit in such a tiny body? Do they know they’re not hitting that bag right? I’m not allowed to tell them that, am I? I need to tell Forest to teach his kids how to throw a punch. Why do they remind me of Willow? They’re not going to make it through the next– no, no, no, stop. Stop. You can’t protect all of them. 

Cobalt doesn’t know about Quinn’s mother but will melt like butter when he finds out why Quinn is fighting their fight. The parallels between their story and Davey’s will not go unnoticed. Cobalt had prepared for losing Davey in the Game, but not in the way it came to fruition. Every time Davey’s eyes slide over Cobalt like he’s just another stranger in the crowd, Cobalt tries to steel himself harder still against Quinn and the instinctive affection he feels for her. (The player! needs! a parent!!!)

Quinn seriously can’t throw a punch. Cobalt is nearly frothing trying to stop himself from correcting their form. How did they get this far without learning? How did Forest get this far without teaching them???

posturing for no good reason like Grown Ass Adults

dad mode episode 1: “I Am 129 Years Your Senior And This Is Why You Should Listen To Me”

dad mode episode 2: stop picking fights with dudes who are bigger than you 

“i’ll show you mine if you show me yours” personal power edition

if you eavesdrop you’re probably gonna hear something super dirty 

lugnasad - holy well for @willcwfairbank

She waved her hand dismissively at his concerns over her dental hygiene. She’d brush her teeth later, they’d be fine. Still, she couldn’t help grimacing slightly as she took another drink. It wasn’t exactly her beverage of choice, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

“Kitchen’s still open as long as they’re playing,” she explained. “I’m off tomorrow, so I volunteered to stay late so everyone else could go home. But I’m regretting it now. They’re not eating and I’m not sleeping.” Her eyes dropped down to the can in her hand and she added, “Ever again, probably.” 

It might have been in her head, but she already felt more awake. The energy drink was doing it’s job. “How’re they doing? Are they at least making it worth the overtime?” 

Cobalt made a small, sympathetic face in Hazel’s direction. He understood the why of it-- there was no use having a casino or a lender if there was no one to use it, and no one would spend if they weren’t having a grand old time-- but it didn’t make him feel any better for the poor girl. There were a few Seelie he kept a special eye on, and Hazel was one of them.