it's only forever

“Here’s one for you: why’re you asking such gross questions? Obviously human. To be fae is to not... y’know... be human. You literally have no humanity. And what’s the point of living otherwise? I wouldn’t want to risk becoming a spoilt, greedy bastard just to live forever. Maybe if more of them were like Tatia or Calliope, then it wouldn’t be a bad prospect. But I’m pretty sure those two are outliers, so nah, count me as thoroughly team human, thank you very much.”

@nymphcts @lepinedoree

“Oh my. Is that even possible to quantify? I don’t think I can be a fair judge of that, to be frank. Most of my sexual escapades are not for the faint of heart or body, but they are perfectly normal for me. A week is not complete if I haven’t had at least one foursome, you know. Perhaps someone else could tell us? I’m sure Eryk has witnessed me doing a few things that would count as ‘the sluttiest’.”

@sangue-e-luce

“That entirely depends on the mood. Is it a casual affair? Light music, laughter, chandeliers glittering away, no business talk allowed, only a flirty bit of fun? Then that is absolutely a white wine situation. But if things are on the more intimate side, with lower lighting, caressing, and more passionate music... that’s a red wine affair.”

“The humanity, really. Here, I’m surrounded by faeries, nonstop, twenty-four-seven. And when I do see a human, they’re usually so brainwashed from servitude that it’s like talking to a faerie impersonator. It’s frustrating, because I feel sorry for them but... also angry at them? They’re subjected to fae bullshit all the time, and yet it doesn’t occur to them to fight back or leave and get away from it all. But they grew up with it, and in another life that might have been me, too, so I can’t blame them. So yeah, I deeply miss being around humans with their heads on straight who I can talk to about all of this messed up shit without feeling like I’m the crazy one for not wanting to deepthoat the boot of every faerie I see.”

It was a bit like enticing a stray cat to trust you, Carter thought as he spread out the food and two glasses of cider out before them. This woman was little more than a wild animal as she stood hunched over foo, gnawing on left behind scraps like a rat rushing out of its hidey hole. Again, Carter was curious about this creature’s origins; he’d never seen her around the castle in the past, and something told him that a woman with a personality as, ah, unique as this one likely would have stood out among the other mortals who milled about Avalon City’s high castle. There was something sinister at play here, Carter was certain of it, but this little discovery only enhanced his desire to understand the inner machinations of the Spring Court. What, exactly, was Ares Deerling hiding here? Meeting this young woman felt like the tip of an iceberg, and if Carter nudged her gently enough in the right direction, perhaps she could lead him on the road to salvation.

The Wild Hunt had waited so long for intel on the movements of the Spring Court. It was time Carter finally deliver something of note to his King of Wolves.

So Carter watched as the human eyed the pastry with a look akin to blind reverence, sliding her a plate and a glass of cider across the counter. Arielle would likely have a few choice words to say about the amount of sugar he was about to ingest, but what was a secret among…friends? Acquaintances? Strangers? Well...never mind. When the human finally began to speak, approaching Carter not unlike a frightened deer or cautious fox, he arched his brows in response. There were many things Carter thought she would do if he directly spoke to her, but approaching them was low on his list of probabilities. Still, as he lifted the glass of cider to his lips and took a sip, he felt relief; maybe now he’d finally get some of the answers he’d been hunting for. Just wait until Cassian heard about this.

“Hungry residents of the castle–you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Carter asked slyly with a wry grin. He reached for his fork and carved off a bite of cherry streusel and took a bite, letting out a low hum of approval as the tangy sweet flavor exploded in his mouth. By the time he’d finished chewing, the girl was asking what it was he was eating. Had she really never had streusel before? “What? You’ve never had cherry streusel? I’m afraid you simply have not lived, then. It’s a pastry. Go on, take a bite; let it change your life, Miss…?” He trailed off, his gaze snagging on hers in a silent invitation for her to provide him with her name.

.

Had she known of the faerie’s assessment of the situation—seeing her as a stray cat to be tempted with food—she wouldn’t even have been offended. How many times in her life had Neve been called just that? A stray, a hellcat, a feral who had to be kicked out or put down, whichever was fastest and least likely to result in injury. By this point in her life, she was quite used to people seeing her in such a light, and rather than getting angry, she’d come to embrace it. That was just how she operated. Why be hurt over something so accurate?

But she did not know his thoughts at all. Quite the opposite, she felt like she had no understanding of his logic or reasoning. In her experience, faeries didn’t do nice things just because they could. There was always an ulterior motive, and she had to be on her guard to figure out exactly what it was. But such vigilance—the constant kind—was taxing, and she was so tired as it was from being deprived of food for so long. Whatever mysterious motive he held, Neve was willing to risk it for even a single bite of the flaky delicacy he’d laid out before her.

Her gaze barely twitched as the warrior put a plate and glass before her, locked as it was on the dessert. Neve moved on instinct, pulling the glass up to her lips and taking a drink that very nearly spilled out over her chin. Whatever he must think of her, she certainly wasn’t going to make his opinion more positive with her eating habits. Only once she’d swallowed and inhaled deeply did she look up at him again. He was watching her with plain curiosity, not that she could blame him. As she’d discovered quickly, it seemed the High Lord had been keeping her presence quite the secret from everyone around him. Most of the humans she’d met were servants, something she clearly was not based on the simple but richly-dyed blue tunic and pants that she’d found for herself.

She found that she rather liked being an enigma. But she would learn more information about the castle and how she might escape if she engendered a bit of trust on her part.

“What, me?” Neve’s eyes widened with a healthy dose of faux innocence and shock. “No, not me, never. Never been hungry a day in my life.” The fae had an easy smile and a pleasant laugh. Personable, that was the word. Her instincts warned her to be wary of such a personality, but so many odd things had happened to her lately that she... she just couldn’t bring herself to be as aggressively alert as she used to. The few fae she’d encountered since waking had all been as close to genuine as she thought it possible for their kind to be, challenging all her preconceived notions of them and their ilk.

So regardless of the nagging doubt that fluttered around the back of her mind, she allowed herself a crooked grin and took his advice. “Neve”, she answered, “no ‘miss’ needed.” Using the fork he’d laid out, she sectioned off a chunk of this “streusel”, plopped it on her plate, and dug in. A second later, she let out a comically loud moan of delight. “Fuck, that is good!” Her thumb swiped at her mouth, ridding it of crumbs as she blinked at the warrior across from her with disbelief on her face. “Yeah, life changed, that’s for sure. I’ve only ever had cherries either raw or in a pie, and that was years and years ago. I didn’t even know pastry could get this flaky.”

TASK #1: Character Comparisons

LYSANDER CAERWYN as JARETH THE GOBLIN KING (Labyrinth)

Immortal rulers of a fantastical realm, Lysander and Jareth share much in common with one another. They are seductive figures of authority and magic, well known for their rather spoiled ways, their vanity, and their striking appearances. Though Jareth is more mercurial than Lys, and more prone to outbursts of irritation with his subjects, Lys has the same potential to be extremely dangerous and vindictive if pushed far enough. His ongoing feud with Gabriel Beaumont shows the more antagonistic side of his personality, one where he is willing to push buttons and challenge those who oppose him as Jareth challenges Sarah. Both the Goblin King and the High Lord of Dawn are given over to lavish parties and schemes, often choosing to manipulate situations with underhanded tricks and subtlety rather than outright conflict. There’s also no denying the parallels of Jareth absconding with people (namely Sarah’s brother Toby), and the Dawn Court’s penchant for stealing away humans they find interesting or useful. Nor both men’s unique magical talents for manifesting and manipulating the dreams of others.

     “It's a crystal. Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams.”

... as HERBERT VON KROLOCK (Tanz der Vampire)

These immortals share an overarching characterization that can only be described as “fabulous”. Herbert is the flamboyant gay son of a vampire, a playful and fun figure who is very forthright in his desires and who pursues his passions openly. He is extremely confident in himself and completely unapologetic, as Lysander is, and both are bold and persistent when it comes to getting what they want. Herbert is taken with an adorable young vampire hunter and pursues him openly despite the era’s cultural mores against his sexuality; Lys is promiscuous and does not hide his nature despite the disapproval of surrounding Courts. They are not overly given to displays of anger or violence, though of course both can have their moments, and for the most part are more focused on enjoying themselves in the moment and enjoying all that their eternal lives can offer them. Oh, and they’re both extremely pretty, and they know it.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea forming an alliance with the Autumn court? I mean they are great fighters, It would be nice to have them on our side if any fighting breaks out. They probably have the best archers in all of Astralis.” Eryk sipped his coffee, he would need a chart to keep track of all of the existing alliances before this was all over. Every move they made was like trying to solve an impossible riddle. He sat his mug down and sat back in his chair. 

“I hope it’s not another wedding you plan to offer them. I don’t think I could sit through another one. I was so bored at the Night Court.” Eryk sighed and rested his head in his hands. “Although if you threw a wedding I’m sure it would be much more fun, my lord.” 

.

Lys pursed his lips thoughtfully at Eryk’s suggestion, eyes wandering to the ceiling above them as he thought it over. “True. We can hold our own if we have to, but having an ally with not just a talent but also a passion for fighting could be useful down the line.” But Autumn had always been very close to Winter, and with Winter poised to solidify their alliance to Spring, the High Lord felt wary of treading too close to an alliance that involved Ares Deerling and his warmongering ego. “We’ll have to watch them closely. See what their next moves are. I don’t want to jump into bed with someone who might be about to go on a rampage.”

A laugh echoed around the room, accompanied by a small shake of his head. “You know me too well. Now, to be fair, we don’t have a lot of cards to play in that regard. Lorelai is off the table as a marriage prospect—she would flay us all alive if we tried to arrange something without her input. But I suspect Louisa might be more open to something like that, and she already has very close ties to several Day Court nobles. At the very least, it’s something I’d like to drop a suggestion about, see how Lady Rowan takes it.” He winked at his advisor over steepled fingers. “Don’t worry, if Dawn and Day marry into each other, we’ll put the Night Court to shame.

“There’s one other thing I’d like to posit,” he added, his voice unusually slow and measured. Even Lysander knew this was a risky thought process, but the longer he’d considered it, the more appealing it had become. “What would you say if I told you I want to bring Summer and Day into a formal tripartite with us?”

Calliope moved to hand the glass of water to Neve, a half-smile gracing her lips. “Many thing nobles are quite useless, and while that’s probably mostly true to their lives, it’s not entirely so,” she offered with a half shrug of her delicate shoulders. The duchess nodded, eyes going to Neve’s hidden frame. It wouldn’t be hard to find clothing - she could find something in the uniform supply, surely. The fae had no issue sharing her clothes, but she guessed that a full gown likely wasn’t this human’s idea of proper clothing.

Humming softly as she sliced the loaf of bread up, Calliope wondered how long the other had been here. She barely kept herself from shaking her head as she piled the bread high on one plate and added the small saucepan of butter. Calliope then plated up one bowl of stew and gracefully knelt before Neve and set them down, all needed cutlery arranged on each plate. “There’s plenty of stew, and if you’re still hungry when you’ve finished everything here, I can always get more,” she promised as she shifted, moving to give Neve a little bit of space so that she could settle herself in too. Calliope twisted to pull the cart a little closer so that it would be a little easier to serve Neve another helping should she want it. Calliope inclined her head slightly, so Neve didn’t feel like she was being watched while she ate. The duchess supposed that she could leave, but the fae didn’t relish the thought of leaving the human alone. What if Neve wasn’t there when she returned? “What kind of clothes do you like, Miss Neve? I have many gowns I can share if you’d like, but not many if you prefer pants to skirts,” Calliope explained. The fae was quick to add, “I will be able to get whatever your preference is, thought.”

.

It was true, Neve had never put much faith in the abilities of the nobility. Privileged bastards, she thought, sitting in their lofty towers, sipping wine with their heels kicked up on the back of some human. They never had to do the hard labor their servants toiled at daily, all to make their already cushy lives even more comfortable. They didn’t know the reality of starvation, the threat of freezing on a long winter night, or fatigue of hunting from sun-up to sundown with little or no success. They just snapped their fingers and things happened. But... they also had the benefit of educations and resources beyond the reach of humans, and their magic, of course. Some of that had to be good for something—at the very least, this Duchess was capable of delivering food to a glorified prisoner, something Neve doubted that any other noble in the Spring Court would have either the desire or braincells to do.

The hunter’s eyes watched closely as Calliope set about serving up the food. Already she was frustrated with herself, finding her attention so torn between elements that she should have no problem avoiding. The promise of food when she was so bloody hungry was overwhelming. The presence of an immortal beauty was distracting. And through it all, Neve felt... very weak and small. A feeling she did not appreciate. But weeks spent languishing, starving, healing from severe injuries, all combined to make her relatively helpless. Now, here she was, relying on a faerie to give her food and clothing, a position she’d sworn she’d never be placed in.

Fate was a fickle bitch.

The moment Calliope handed over the platter, Neve set upon the food with gusto. She didn’t even realize that her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears; that was how good everything tasted after so long without so much as water passing her lips. For a few minutes, she couldn’t speak, just shoved bread and stew into her mouth as quickly as possible while trying to remember to chew. Once her plate was cleared, she inhaled properly, blinking as another flush of embarrassment crept up her neck. That had to have looked alarming, if not downright unpleasant. “Thank you...” Her defenses were lowered far more than she’d realized until those simple words fluttered past her lips in a low murmur. Thanking a fae for anything was anathema to her, and yet...

Neve met the Duchess’s gaze again with some hesitancy, but already a full stomach was doing wonders for her mood and her cognition. “Uh, yeah, nah I’ve never been much for skirts and dresses,” she admitted with a little shrug. “But basically anything would be better than this,” she added with a gesture to her body, and the lacy lingerie hiding underneath her blanket. “Nothing fancy, just some comfortable pants and a shirt and I’ll be right as rain.”