as above, so below

-

Isadora was back in the Pearl City. The knight had some time before she reported back for duty. Not much. But enough to return to a familiar rooming house and stay there for a while before her lieutenant, or his superiors, changed her date of active duty. Something the knight felt may happen sooner than she’d like. It was there that she received word, and an official invite, to join Kenji for a game of Shogi.

“I did,” Isadora replied in lieu of an official greeting as she closed the distance between them. She murmured her thanks, going to retrieve her offered sake. “It’s good to see you again.” She began. “How are you? Anything new in your world?”

&

Kenji motioned to the seat in from of him. “Please, join me. If only for one round,” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He drank from his own cup and tipped the sake back. It was sweet. It had a soft taste of wisteria flower and ceder linger in his taste. His step-brother, Hiro was a genius with his house sake; it was Kenji’s favourte thing to order here… that and the deep friend Taiyaki.

-

Everyone was angry about what had happened. The sorrow and the anger from the event still hung in the air, even after everyone went home and everything was cleaned up. He had sat through endless meetings about everything that had happened, and he still have any answers. He felt like he was failing his court and the people of it. It was his job to keep everyone safe and he couldn’t even stop a human from stabbing another High Lord right in front of him. 

He was heading into another council meeting when he heard the hurried footsteps behind him. He turned to see Cian running towards him. “Stand up, you know I hate it when people kneel for me. I don’t even care if its tradition.” 

He closed the doors to the council chamber, not even caring that he was leaving people waiting for him. He would apologize later. Right now he needed to be there for his friend. “I appreciate your help and loyalty but I already let Nikolas take the lead on it, he is captain of the guard. But you are more than welcome to be his number two.” 

He led his friend into the empty sitting area, a fire was already burning in the fireplace. He turned and asked for the servants to bring them some ale. “You know it’s not your fault Cian. Nobody saw the attack coming. We all missed the signs.” 

&

The red-hair’d fae put away his dirk swiftly in its sheath and stood back up to meet Kaden’s gaze. He moved beside his Lord until they halted at the hearth. From his position, Cian could see the commotion in the castle courtyard. Healers were still tending the battle-tested warriors of Autumn. By now, all of the visiting courts are making arrangements for home, taking their own wounded in tow.As soon as the dark wooded doors, Cian spoke. “Then, I will report to Sir Nickolas,” He nodded.

Cian took the cup of ale that the castle servant handed him. He took a gulp not looked up from the flickering orange flames. For a small moment, Cian got lost in the flames; its likeness to the bright orange leaves that were falling from the tall trees was striking.

Racing in his mind, Cian was trying to find a breech--a mistake; some small part of the fair left unguarded. He had been so careful with everything. The Human Resistance knew where the Nightmare King was going to be; the revolutionaries moved with, precision creating chaos in their wake. There had to been a commonality in both attacks. Then it clicked. “Have we taken stock in our relations wit’the' Night Court?” Cian lifted his cup to his lips and took another gulp, letting silence fall between Kaden and Cian. “I am begin’ to beleive tha’ the Night Court may have a spy...”

the autumn court / a court of pumkins & bros

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more ...

             -To Autumn, J, Keats

-

The grievances against the last, remaining Caerwyn was barely at a tipping point. The small, egregious acts of social disrespect and cruelty were next to nothing but petty (and bordering on infantile, if he was being transparent). To crush a soul was not to drown it in grief, but to allow the oxygen to slowly dispel around them. Elias knew the nature of a crushed soul, because he watched it happen before his very eyes. The first, glottal blow of his sister’s sobbing figure on Dawn’s shores. One that robbed her of the comfort of her family, when all had already been lost. At the hands of the Caerwyn’s, no less, who sought to add insult to injury. He read each of his sister’s long-handed letters, detailing the extent of neglect and torture at the hands of their usurpers. It prompted a need for vengeance, in her older and protective brother. And while the reality was harsh, it did provide him with something else - an intimate knowledge of how to destroy.

Iris was built with Wakefield sensibility; however, and did not break. No, she had only grown stronger, like coal turning to iridescent diamonds before his very eyes. Louisa; however, would not know such luck. Elias long determined himself superior to the fallen Caerwyn, and knew that even in cruelty, he would not be outdone. The death of the oaf that was the Duke Caerwyn was akin to a string quarter to his ears. A symphony of grief, that could only be added to insult. Robbing him of his royal accolades was child’s play. A manner to undo the spirit of his daughter, as she watched his body descend into the plot.

He arrives late to the affair, without the accompaniment of his fiance or his family. No grand, royal procession or dressed in the ceremonial cloths of a High Lord, looking to pay his respects. His choice of attire is thoughtless, and his company is limited to two guards. A slight, meant to showcase the senselessness of the Caerwyn name in Dawn’s ranks. “It was not a privilege granted to those more deserving than you, Caerwyn.” He states bluntly, blue eyes cross with contempt. His own sister hadn’t a moment to grieve her father’s death herself. “Why so solemn?” He coed, casual and light on his tongue. His hands wrapped around his back, as he looks from behind her, peering at her father’s corpse. “He was a senseless man. As weak as the rest of your namesake.” He spits, vile and closely into her ear. “There is nothing but a laughable dolt to mourn now, sweet child.”

&

Her greif was his spectacle. Everything he has done was to break her, trying to keep her under his ruling thumb; he made it into sport. Her performance at the Trials of Oberon was in spite of Elias’ treatment. She trained for weeks before the tourney at the Môr. Louisa made she she mastered with wind and dreamwalking abilities; honed like a fresh blade as she walked into the tournament arena. She stood before him now with ire in her veins; inside she was broken and alone, but she will never let him break her.

Elias had turned her home upside down in the matter of moments. The Glass Palace, where Louisa spent all of her life, felt more and more like a museum of the past than a home. She was alone in the den of lions: Wakefields closed in on her. . He turned the Glass Palace--the only home she’s never known--upside down before her eyes. She was alone, and Wakefields were everywhere she turned. Elias scrubbed every inch of the Palace that had the Caerwyn royal seal inlaid: tile floors, tapestries, portraits, stonework--all was chiseled or thrown away with nor care. How much has changed in the course of month...

As her beloved father’s casket thudded to the cold earth, Louisa internalized a sob. He was a giant in life, and a sick man in death. Louisa felt exposed as Elias glared at her; the sound of Elias’ voice burned Louisa to her core. To Elias; he only saw the dying branch of his rivals. Familia Caerwyn et Wakefield come from the same branch of the Dawn Royal family, but their families couldn't be more different. Not to mention, Elias hated her father the most, for his role in his family’s exile. “Why can’t you leave me be...” Louisa spat as she picked up her skirts and tried to walk away. “You have what you want, I have no one now! Just leave me to mourn my life in peace. Go, live with your family and let me go.”

Bruno decided to make a little stop on his way back from the Autumn Court, he took a detour through the Wild Hunt, to say hello to a dear friend. The Day Court fae has known Mahina for quite some time. He met her a few decades back when he toured Astralis in her lecture series. He taught in the royal courts and university around the land, discussing art, literature, and nature with like-minded fae and humans.

“Mistress Kekoa,” Bruno purred as he walked towards her. “You are sight for sore eyes.” He sat down in front of her in good humor; he almost forgot the gore of the tournament only days ago.

Days at court set Louisa on edge. She was always seen a joke among the Dawn Courtiers; she heard their whispers echo as she walked by. Louisa was not high fae, she was a half-breed; her royal blood was tainted. She will never wield the phoenix flame, but Louisa was the best dreamwalker in her generation. She was a master at the age of seven, better than her cousins. She could walk in and out of dreams as easy as a dance.

Tonight, Louisa locked herself away in the lofty tower she now called home. Lord Elias made tormenting Louisa a sport, but her tower was her own. She was away from the chaos of the palace, and had peace. Festus was snoring on the dusty chaise and kicked Louisa off to the floor. Louisa looked over at her empty saucer of champagne and the litter of bottles Jacques shipped from the Night Court; her head was fuzzy as she drifted into the ethereal dream world. She found herself walking down the dreamscape halls of the Palace and a door appeared at the end of the hall. The door was alive with the night sky swirling in the panels. She knew it couldn’t be Jacques’ dream. She gave both River and Jacques amulets to block their dreams from Louisa. As long as they wore it, she could never step into their private dreams. Out of sheer curiosity, Louisa opened the door and stepped into the darkness. 

He had finally gotten home to the safety of his library after the debacle at the Trials of Oberon. Bruno, the soft librarian, has no business in a fight; his skills are not attuned with weapons. His talents were more academic, than warrior.

He was glad that he had work to do when he got back. A new shipment of materials arrived while he was going from court: maps, anthologies, scrolls. Everything needed to catalogue, and Bruno was happy to do it. He was involved with his work that he didn’t hear Skai approach. “Oh, gods--” Bruno huffed a laugh. “You gave me a fright. Is there anything I can help you with?”

.

Robin thumbed through the book that he had handed her, looking at the tactics and taking in what he’d been reading. “Thank you,” she said of the tea he’d poured, still flipping through the book as she took a sip. “So you have your strengths. So we’ll need to focus and work to those in a fight. For instance, me? I’m short in stature compared to most, but I’ve taken down people twice my size and height. I like to take the high ground and jump off on them in surprise.” It came with only being 5′5. “My tactics are always to knock them down, and keep them off their feet. So my go to are leg sweeps, ramming them, or jumping off of things onto them when I need to. But of course punching, kicking, bow and arrows, swords, I’ve come to know them all over the years.” She told him this so he wouldn’t doubt her abilities to help. She could tailor his own training to him and his strengths. Robin was a reckless fighter herself, because she didn’t truly value her own life as much as she should. She dove into every fight like it would be her last. 

“With air being your element, you have an advantage of surprise in some cases, knocking weapons from their hands with a strong gust of air. If they’re using things such as arrows, they travel through air, and if you manipulate it then advantage you as well. Let’s talk hand to hand no weapon fighting. How well do you throw a punch?”

&

Bruno listened to Robin as she spoke about her experience with wielding weapons. He was never gifted with the natural talent, although he is the son of a Day Court knight. Many times throughout his childhood, he and his friends would spar with sparring swords. But Bruno always felt like a new born fawn: all wobbly and knocked-kneed. His elemental magic really blossomed when he became of age. He could manipulate the air around him with surgical precision. By the time he was 36, Bruno could bend a single gust of wind so powerful that it broke apart a brick building within seconds.

“Unfortunately, no.” he responded, then took a sip from his tea cup. “The Weapons Marshal when I was a believed me to be useless with any sort of weapons after a sparring match with the other courtier children--” a chirp came from around the corner. Xu-xu gracefully pranced over and moved between Robin’s legs. Bruno looked down and smile, then looked back at Robin. “The only combat background I have is dodging other air elements manipulation when I was with the Wind Master back when I was a youngling.”

~

Svala was on her way home when she heard her younger sister call out to her. She hadn’t expected her back so soon, but she was needed. After the brawl at the tournaments and everything else that had gone on it was only fair that her sister was called back for more important duties.

She smiled at Lottie and her friend and shook her head, “another time.” She nodded, her tired eyes weary and only focusing on getting home to yet another restless night. She laughed though as Lottie’s friends gathered around and she shook her head, “I believe if I were to join you all I would suffer grave consequences from my children and the last thing I would like to explain to them and Adrik is someone carrying me home.”

&

“I’ll walk back with you...” Lottie smiled up at her sister. She mumbled something to her drinking companions and drunk the last of her mead. Lottie came back to Court just earlier that week. She and her crew had been reviving the reports from her station’s outpost while she was out on a trading mission. She had been shocked at the attack at the Autumn annual tournament. The Trials of Oberon were always meant to be in the spirit of  sportsmanship; Lottie had fond memories at the tourney. She won her first fight in the pits when she was only sixteen. 

Lottie reached for her long coat and swung it over her shoulders. The nights were becoming darker and the air hung heavy with a chill. “I have been too long, Svala.” Lottie exhaled as the sisters made it out of the mead hall and into the winter night. “I wish I had come back sooner. I feel like your wee ones have grown leagues since I was last at court...”

.

Skai always loved the opportunities she had to get outside the palace walls. It was how she found out gossip and useful information, and it was also where she would happen upon many different people she’d come to know. When she heard her name, she smiled heading his way. “It’s very safe to say that I will never ask you to part with any food or drinks because while death might be a calming peace to a chaotic and turmoil filled world, I’ve accomplished so little and have so much life left to live.” Skai knew her humor could be a little dark, a lot like her view on death, always viewing it as the peace and much awaited. “How are you, Kenji? I knew that you weren’t with us in the melee at Autumn. Up to anything exciting?” 

&

“I heard that I missed a hella good fight...” Kenji smiled and pulled his cup to his lips. While many of the Summer Court attendants attended the annual Trials of Oberon, Kenji had to stay behind. He was testing a new poison for a client, and it had a bad reaction. Any potion that Kenji has crafted has to be tested by him. He had a natural immunity to many poisons; however, some poisons he crafted could knock him out for a spell. “I have been keeping myself busy in my shop. The court was lonely without your company,” he laughed. Kenji had liked Skai since she first appeared at Court. “Did you come out unscathed?” He put his tea cup down on the saucer in front of him

( SEVASTIAN &&. CIAN) + @fatedfvllen

There was beauty in the Autumn Court, though Sevastian Valentina would never admit the words aloud. After the blow their kingdom had been dealt not once, but twice in the last handful of months, Sevastian wouldn’t be surprised if they tightened border control and security around the perimeter. As it was, the Tsesarevich of the Winter Court encountered minimal questioning or pushback as he made his way through the court’s capital city, watching as people bustled to and fro to complete afternoon errands and shopping.

But he wasn’t here to galivant with the common rabble. He was here for a purpose, and as Sevastian slipped through the shadows of the city, clinging to the side streets and avoiding any attention drawn towards himself, he kept his gaze out for one face in particular he’d taken care to memorize as of late.

Feigning confusion, Sevastian stopped before a merchant, his brows drawn together in feigned dismay. He reached out a hand, tentatively, to rest on the stranger’s arm, confusion and worry clouding his gaze as he looked around him.

“I’m so sorry, I seem to be lost. Do you think you could help me?” Sevastian’s eyes widened slightly as the stranger shrugged him off and scurried away, turning about him and beginning to plead with passersby for assistance. “Please, I’ve somehow lost my way. Can anyone help me?”

&

The day was bright and clear; the sun hung high in the afternoon sky, but was not a mark of a warm day. The sun hung high as the wind was chilling. The days were getting shorter, and the last harvest was drew closer as the winter winds blew down from the black craggy cliffs--winter was not far behind.

The smell of boiled apples and smoke filled the market. Stalls were open and patrons were haggling with the stall owners. Only a fortnight have passed since the resistance attack, but you would have never guessed from the bustling city center. Business had to be done. Cian had come to market day to collect payment due from tenants and shoppe keepers. It wasn’t the most glorious part of his job, but as the court barrister it fell to him.

He was coming to the end of his list of clients when and stopped at a stall for mug of the season’s spiced cider. Cian was the tax collector, but he believed to be fair with his clients. After all, he was among his countrymen. Cian would happily bleed for the denizens of Autumn: his home.

The red-haired fae was at ease, laughing with among a gaggle of the ale-gutted and weary shoppe keepers. He listened to the crass jokes made at each other’s expense when a familiar voice pricked his ears. Cian turned to see Sevastian Valentina speaking with a stranger. Cian quickly finished his mug and walked over. “Sir Sevastian,” Cian bent slightly at the waist in a quick bow. “I can help yee. I know this city better than the rats,” he joked and quickly thanked the stranger in the Autumn Court native tongue. “Please,” Cain motioned his hand forward, “Where are you going?”

-

“Not as difficult as losing one’s family.” She dares to reproach, meeting his admonishing gaze with her own. Leveled and calculated, as they challenged the other’s beliefs. How poignant it was, that the very matter they discussed, revealed the depths of their own hearts. As tattered and dark as it may have been, it indicated some semblance of grief. And what was grief, if not love’s lingering effects? “And Lord Beaumont is essentially that.” It was not a matter of politics to Jacqueline, odd as it was. The very admission was an olive branch to the barrister himself. She lightly reaches for the letters, taking a moment to glance through the various contracts. A number of agreements and altered terms, certain to keep the Advisor properly occupied into the Night.

“And what accommodations have you made in the interim?” The frenzied words between them forgotten (as way many of Jacqueline’s venomous words), as she rolls the scrolls in her hand again. “Or did you imagine you’d be sharing my apartments tonight?” Jacqueline asks, unabashed in his presence. The Autumn Court’s residents always spoke with such frankness, but Cian’s ability to meet her silver-tongue words offered an interesting change. “The last time a man of Autumn cloth cared for my well-being, he had broken Astralis’ barrier and sought exile to escape my darkness.” A darkened gaze, yet a softened tone, as she recounted the love lost in their previous Captain of the Guard. “I don’t imagine you wish the same for yourself.” She blinks, placing the scrolls on the table before her. A purposeful hand reaching forward, to push away the red locks that shrouded his face. “But perhaps you’re built of sturdier stuff.”

&

The red-haired fae listened as Jacqueline spoke of her High Lord. It’s upsetting, knowing that a loved one is in pain and there is little for one to help. Cian could hear the twinge of pain in Jacqueline’s voice. The stoicism Jacqueline showed before him, Cian admired. She and Cian have dedicated theirs lives to their home,; the strength of their court rested upon the shoulders of the High lord--to watch it waver in a single blow, was unimaginably unsetteling. As the day grew shorter, something was creeping across Astralis as winter. How much as changed in a few short months.

The sting of Jacqueline’s mention of Cian estranged best friend made him wince. It has only been a new months since Matthew disappeared from the Autumn Court, but the hole in Cian’s heart was still here; he knew that Jacqueline felt it too. He shifted his feet under him and he winced; the pain in his side where resistance fighter cut him was still healing. Cain’s eyes followed Jacqueline’s outline as she moved closer to him. “I’m stayin’ at the inn in the city center,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay--I didn’t wanna impose. He could smell the softness of new rosebuds as she reached to his tired face and a tender grin tugged at his mouth. “Yer na darker than me,” he confessed, his eyes flickered up to hers. “You won’t have to hold anything back...”