revelisms:
At times he wondered, though in rare, idle offbeats, what humaneness must taste like. Not humans in themselves—he took that in morsels often enough. But their deeper cutwork, the pith of them : if a God sliced them open ( an old god, older than fae, a god that spoke the words of wind and earth before fairy was even a splinter in the sky ) what would they find pulsing within ? What sustains their limbs ? What wards off their despair at their own wretchedness—the squalor of blood and piss and blindness they live in ? Their existence an open wound; their entire genesis a misstep. What he cares to know is whether they feel more intensely. For himself, he thinks he would never stop screaming in hollow fury, should he have been born of man. So is that the reason, the burst which gives them leave to weep so freely, to love so unabashedly ? After all, the laws of nature should ordain it, since they have a much shorter time to bathe in all these things ; to clash with rage and desire and the leaden flurries of melancholia. It’s the latter he reckons he’s seeing on this one. It comes out in violet tinges, interspersed through those curls as plain as jewelry. Her own private headdress of unease.
He stretches his legs with cat-like languor, until their length reaches the sides of Cordelia’s own chair. They border her in, two dark-clad brackets. Along the hemline, embroidered jacquard shines when it catches the light, exposing miniature hunting scenes, minute symbols of destruction. The summer fae grins, and it encroaches his words, their space, the very breath tumbling from both their lips.
“ Oh, obliteration is good, little mortal. It’s what we mean for you when we bring you here. Our awfully clever design. We would have you unheeding, and speechless, and suffused in enchantment. This is the meaning of the word, yes ? Bewitched. Spirited away. It’s when you’re starting to see that you should become worried — when you can witness what magic touches, what it repels. What it requires from you. ”
what blinded humans to the fae’s true nature was their beauty. they could utter soft words with the most ugly meanings, but their perfect features and charming allure could trap the keenest mind. cordelia had once looked at the world through shielded eyes, unable to see them for what they were: monsters. something about isaliendrin caused every fiber of her being to yell for her to run. but still, she sat across from him, as if nothing were wrong, as if she were still a content human in the summer court’s cabal.
“ would you suggest i be scared of it ? ” she raised a brow, truly curious as to what he’d say. cordelia was utterly horrified of the magic the fae possessed and what it could do. she had once been amused by it, like a child to a butterfly. but not anymore. “ i suppose magic is just like you all. ” her voice is light, she sounded as if she were making a great realization. it isn’t meant to come off as an insult “ both beautiful and terrible all at once. ”















