Cillian O'Keefe

Neve doubled over, retching into a rose bush just as a tentative voice sounded from behind her. She whipped around, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes narrowed at the intruder, open hostility clear on her face. There was something off about the young man so politely enquiring about her health. He was irrefutably beautiful, like any faerie. His hair fell in raven curls, framing delicate features that looked almost out of place next to the sharp jut of his jaw. But something in the stance, and the sincere looking of nervous concern on his face was strange. Catching a member of the gentry in such an undignified manner was surely cause for some amusement, or worse - a green light to inflict cruelty on one in a weakened moment. Court for any fae was always a game of strategy, one in which you hid all your cards, and all weakness from the eyes of your peers. But, the Unseelie Court was particularly bloodthirsty. Had a courtier stabbed another in the middle of the dance floor, it was a toss up whether it would be punished or just served as the amusement for the night. Hell, it was highly likely most courtiers in the room had a blade hidden somewhere on them. Yet, here was this boy, looking almost apologetic of being there at all.

Was it a human? A human in the Unseelie court? How rare. She peered more closely in the dim light, trying to solve the puzzle of this strange man. Perhaps it was someone’s pet. 

“I’m fine, boy.” Neve snapped with impatience, mimicking Luna’s cool, sharp voice as Rye had taught her. It may have been believable, if not for the hiss of pain that escaped her throat right after. Neve clutched her spasming arm, which was now distinctly not Luna’s arm. Her jaw tightened as she fought back a moan of pain, shoulders squaring defensively. The arm Nefe clutched was longer than the other now and riddled with old scars and nails bitten to the skin, while Luna’s glamoured arm was unblemished and rounder, sporting sharp talon-like nails.  But, Neve refused to the acknowledge any of it, glaring at the boy as though he was the suspicious one. If it was a human, it was an annoyingly bold one. “I’m sure you have better things to do than -”

Neve broke off with a near feral scream, so quick to fly from her lips that she had no time to stop it. The magic was working on her ribcage now, each rib expanding in width under her skin in a way that gave her a lopsided appearance. She folded, holding her torso as a  single tear ran down her glamoured cheek.

@cillianokeefe

Cillian shifted his weight back a bit as the other woman turned on him. Something was definitely wrong—it didn’t take a genius to see that. He was exceptionally out of his element in this situation. The Unseelie Court was hard enough to navigate as a Seelie, but add in the fact that he had lived in the human realm most of his life and it made the task feel monumentally impossible.

Even as he nodded along to her words, his sharp gaze darted down to her arm, writhing with spasms. Was that a trick of the moonlight, or did it look completely different to the way he’d seen it moments ago? It curled in pain under her other hand—still smooth and pale, a stark contrast to the older, larger, darker-tinted arm it clutched. A glamour? He had seen many of the sort during his time in Court, the Seelie nobles often fond of small (or not-so-small) touch-ups to their complexions. But none of them had ever seemed to work like this. Perhaps it was something more? The talisman around his neck thunked against his chest once more: she wasn’t the only one dabbling in magic that night.

“I see,” he responded flatly, wary eyes finally darting back up to her face. It was quite obvious that she was, in fact, not fine; but she didn’t seem to give it any mind, raising her chin in an almost defiant stance. Pride or not, why had she chosen to come out here for this? Why not head towards a more private room, hidden deeper in the building itself? No matter how drastic the transformation, she was still Unseelie nobility, was she not?

cillianokeefe​:

The Old Friend || Edmund & Cillian

Edmund stepped a bit to the side as well when people tried to get through and on that moment he realised how it really was sort of a bad idea to talk in a place like this. He hadn’t ever really paid much attention on people spending time together at the market place or talking there in general. But it seemed to be surprisingly hard, so to say. A lot of people wanted to walk past you, some people were talking louder than you making it hard to hear what your friend was telling you, and so on. What a weird experience this was.

A soft laughter left from Edmund’s lips and he looked at his fingers and then wiggled them so Cillian would see them too. “I don’t think I’m able to lengthen them, I’m not even sure would it really be that useful in the long run.” He chuckled and looked at Cillian. “Imagine how it’d look like if you’d play a flute and you’d have extra digit in your fingers. It’d be like spiders dancing on the flute, barely fitting on it.”

With a small smile on his lips Edmund looked around them and then back to the younger fae. “Could I come with you to get the new strings? So we could talk while walking and we wouldn’t be so much on people’s way.” In a way it might feel like a slightly weird offer as it was coming from Edmund, he was known as the sheepish and shy person who barely talked to people. But after being away for years, in the middle of all the touchy-feely -people who talked constantly had managed to transmit some of that into Edmund too. Sometimes Edmund even surprised himself with this new side of him, and this was one of those times. “Only if you have the time and are okay with that, of course”, he quickly added, just to be sure Cillian wouldn’t think he was rudely just forcing his company to him. Cillian could just say no and Edmund would be all fine with that too.

Cillian laughed, shaking his head. “That would be odd,” he agreed, shuddering slightly at the mental image. Imagine! “Although...it may make it easier to hit the notes, in the long run,” he mused, grinning. “More fingers just means more ground to cover, right? Perhaps you’d just need a larger flute.” He mimed the motion, chuckling at himself even as he did so.

“No, of course,” he agreed quickly, stepping to the side to let Edmund fit next to him on the market pathway. He glanced at the other fae, studying his face before they continued walking. Something was definitely different about him, but not necessarily in a bad way. He was struck with the sudden realization that it had been at minimum months seen he’d seen the older fae—much longer than it felt being back in his presence. The two were catching up easily, as if it had only been a few days or weeks rather than what was probably closer to years. But time was fickle as it was, and worse there in Midsummer—so who was really to say?

Fool’s Bargain | Luna & Cillian

It was just as Luna reached the threshold of the door that she felt the first ripple. A whimper escaped her lips as the bones of her arm began to lengthen, unnaturally stretching the skin under the sleeve of her gown. Her steps hurried as she walked out into the mercifully dark royal gardens, nothing but the moon’s glow offering any scant light. This was the place that most nobles went at these sort of gatherings when they didn’t want to be seen. Sure, this was usually due to actions of a more carnal or blatantly illegal nature than this. But, it would have to do.

Had anyone followed her out, Neve would likely not have noticed. The pounding in her ears and eyes full of terrified tears obscured her sense. The many goblets of mead she had downed were likely of little help either. All she could think of was getting as far away from the revelry as possible.

@cillianokeefe

In a brief lapse of music, Cillian found himself wondering what in blazes he was even doing at this party. 

He'd first heard tell of the celebration lurking in the darker corners of the palace market, ears tuned to pick up any conversation that could lead him somewhere helpful. He had stayed, crouched over a stall to eavesdrop without being noticed. When the gossiping fae had dispersed, the decision hadn’t been difficult to make: he would make it to that party.

If there was anything Cillian had learned from his time in Midsummer, it was this: fae loved to talk. This, of course, worked in his favor; the constant gossip made it easy for his quiet self to hear all sorts of things, and he’d learned quite the amount of secrets in that way. When you fade into the background, people tend to forget you’re there—and Cillian’s case was no different. He had already heard tell of many of the nobles at the Seelie Court, but he didn’t know much about the Unseelie Court, or anyone in it. 

Of course, if Ciere was somewhere in the Unseelie Court then, well, his job would get significantly harder. Heading to the soiree tonight was more of a confirmation for him than a hope for information. The Seelie Court had given him neither hide nor trace of his relative, and while he hoped beyond all things that the young girl had not in fact ended up in the opposite court...he had to check. If only to set his own mind at ease.

He turned to avoid a dancing couple as he crossed the ballroom floor, standing to the side in order to keep out of the sharp gazes of the revelers. The medallion tucked under his shirt thunked against his chest as he moved (pounded, compared to the fae around him—he really needed to improve his gait) away, a constant reminder of the acts he’d committed; a reminder to stay on his toes and be aware of his surroundings.

Whatever it takes, he had told himself. And by the stars, he’d see it through.

As Cillian stood to the side of the room, watching the guests move around and mingle, he saw one that didn’t quite seem to fit—much like the way he knew he himself stood out...but not because she was Seelie. No, this woman was head-to-toe Unseelie, and yet she took quick steps across the floor, hurrying towards the nearby gardens with an urgency that seemed out of place at such a party.

Eyes narrowing, he slipped from his position against the wall, slowly pushing his way through the crowd after her. As he neared the door, Cillian could see it was dark out and hesitated, biting his lip as he made a split-second decision. Was it really worth following her out, in an unknown area, with unknown variables? Of course. Perhaps something truly was wrong, too, in which case he could help.

The Old Friend || Edmund & Cillian

Cillian was right. He definitely should ask Edmund why he was there after sort of disappearing in the thin air. Edmund just wasn’t sure would he want to answer to that. Or if he should, even. And then the question came. Edmund was silent for a moment but then he let out a soft sigh. “It’s… a long story. Sort of. I’m sorry I disappeared, but it was kind of.. necessary. For me, at least.” Maybe he would tell the whole story to the other, but here in the busy marketplace probably wouldn’t be the best place to do that. Nor while being this close to the castle.

The look on Edmund’s face brightened up slightly when the younger fae started to talk about his lute and the piece he was practicing. Oh how he wanted to ask who was the new composer and what they were working on.

“Don’t apologise”, he said with a smile, actually looking at Cillian instead of staring down to his shoes like he pretty much used to. “We’ve always gotten carried away with music and if there’s something I’ve learned after I left is that there is no need to apologise talking about the things you’re passionate about.” He even nodded as a confirmation that his words were true. “But maybe I could help with the piece? I’m not sure how exactly, but somehow.”

Cillian nodded slowly, glancing around the market. Someone attempted to push past them and he scooted to the side a bit to let them through. The market was quite busy this morning. He was keen to push for more answers, but perhaps now wasn't the time. Besides, Edmund had never done well with that, anyway.

He could see the older fae visibly relax as he mentioned music, and a small smile crept onto his face. He watched Edmund as he answered. There was a newfound ease about him, something Cillian certainly didn't remember from their earlier time at the palace. His words echoed this, and it made him stop and think.

Was music really a passion of his? It hadn't started that way, to be certain. Having to be hidden most of his life made it difficult to be self-expressive in any way, and…louder ways most of all. He hadn't played much before his journey to the Court, and yet…

Now, it was hard to imagine a time when he didn't play an instrument.

The Old Friend || Edmund & Cillian

As Edmund wandered further he realised how many people there actually were at the marketplace right now. Some of them seemed to be really busy and some of them were clearly just enjoying the day and spending some time with no rush to get anywhere. As Edmund observed these loisurily strolling people for a while he decided that was how he was going to be now. Relaxed and seem like he was in no rush at all. Even though he felt the extreme rush inside of him.

Breath in. Breath out.

You can do this.

And right as he was taking another step forward with this whole new ‘relaxed’ thought in his head he bumped into someone. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t loo-..” he started but his words were cut short as he realised who was standing in front of him. “Cillian?” he said right after the other fae said his name. He batted his eyes few times, almost like trying to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things and that it really was Cillian. After few bats Edmund was quite sure it really was Cillian and not some random fae who happened to look like him and who knew his name. “What-.. what are you doing here?” was the first sentence that came out of his mouth but right after saying that Edmund realised how stupid his question was. “I mean, of course you are here, you live at the castle”, he quickly added gesturing with his hand towards the somewhat direction of the building.

Cillian was, quite frankly, stunned. After the riots on the castle a while back, Edmund had just...vanished. Cillian had still been fairly new to the Court at that time, but the older fae's sudden disappearance had puzzled him. He had seen neither hide nor hair of Edmund in a very long time. In fact, some small part of him that he often refused to acknowledge had simply accepted the fact that he may have died. Yet, here he was, very much alive and right in front of his nose.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a step back as he tried to process what was happening. "I—well, honestly, I should ask the same to you." He blinked, still not quite able to believe his eyes. "Where did you go? You simply...vanished."

@alektobone

The notes burned through the crisp morning air like wildfire, each movement of the bow adding to the echoing melody. The wind carried it away, swinging far on the breeze. The hill he was on wasn't large, overlooking the town below. The stream nearby trickled a steady flow of water, giving a relaxing background to the music spilling out of the viol.

A small puff of rosin flew up from the strings on a particularly scratchy note and Cillian winced, lifting the bow away from the offended instrument. He coughed, waving away the dust with the bow, and let out a deep sigh. He hadn't touched the viol in a while, neglecting it for the lyre and lute—more often preferred instruments in the royal court—and he would have to put some effort into getting to where his skills were previously.

Carefully pinching the base of the viol between his feet and adjusting his knees on the sides, he leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon. Often, he would come outside in the mornings to practice. The fresh air would do him some good, he was sure—being cooped up inside like a hermit for most of the rest of the day. But also, he liked to watch the town wake up.

For full context, read Commitment

Cillian took a deep breath, glancing nervously left and right as he neared the cavern wall. If anyone was hanging around the nearby area, they would have immediately caught him for acting suspiciously; he prayed that he was, in fact, as alone as it seemed he was. His mind was racing, and he tried to push back the flood of nerves pressing up against his legs.

Ignoring his shaky knees and willpower, Cillian reached into the small pouch hanging from his belt. His fingers clasped around the thin handle of the small knife he'd brought, pulling it out. Carefully, the blade slipped into his palm, creating a shallow cut just deep enough to get the blood he needed. He winced, waiting until it pooled just enough to paint the sigil on the rocky wall in front of him.

A few swipes of his hand and he was finished, stepping back to admire his handiwork. His hand stung, and he absentmindedly wrapped it in a handkerchief he'd thought to bring as he waited. What if he hadn't done it correctly? This was his first time attempting something this...shady.

Illegal. The word rang in his mind like it was a sin, and he shook his head back and forth, trying to get it to shut up. What did he care about the ire of the Seelie Court? If he could find Ciere, then he would be long gone before they ever found out. He hoped.

“And this spell will lure the people that I need to me?” His voice was soft but skeptical as he looked at the talisman, its small wooden surface barely illuminated by the light of the nearby fire.

“Absolutely, young sir.” The merchant seemed almost giddy in their response, nodding up and down so quickly that Cillian was afraid their head might fall right off of their shoulders.

He bit his lip, turning the talisman over in his hands. “Intriguing.” He paused, shaking a lock of hair out of his face. “And what payment will you require?” Heaven knew it wouldn’t be free.

Immediately, the merchant soured, casting a nervous glance at the door. Cillian looked between it and the short fae before sighing and standing up, crossing the room to shut the door; the outside din of conversations and dining now muffled as he returned to the fireside. “This talisman will require no monetary payment, sir,” the merchant said quietly, rubbing their hands together.

“Then what will it require?” Cillian was immediately suspicious, narrowing his eyes as he curled the beads of the talisman around his fingers.

The merchant took a deep breath. “A few drops of blood.” Cillian’s eyes widened. Blood magic. That wasn’t quite what he had been expecting from this meeting. “Please, sir, hear me out,” they began nervously, putting their hands out in a placating matter, but Cillian waved them off.

“No need. As long as this will do as you say it will, I see no reason for me not to comply.” He nodded, placing the talisman back in the merchant’s hand. “When do you need to meet?”

The fae blinked, seemingly surprised that he hadn’t…well, Cillian wasn’t quite sure. Turned them in? Exploded in rage? Tried to convince them that there were other ways?

He wasn’t a fool. He was willing to do whatever it took to find Ciere, no matter the consequence. His family had done too much for him not to pay them back now. If this was the only way left, then he would do it.