the tides will always shift

i’m not looking for war either and the eagerness, the familiar disappointment, the anticipation - they crackle like dry wood thrown into a fire as some deeper disappointment, some animalistic impatience snarls and the heat crackles up their throat, sears their tongue, chokes their lungs with smoke. 

of course he wasn’t, sheep in wolf’s clothing (as much as sayf was the other way around), but they could see the hints of predator, a sharp glint in their eyes for just a moment when sayf takes practice too far, live steel brushing hair’s-length from throats. they know there’s something more, something hungry underneath the exhausted and blood-weary facade they wear.

cal isn’t looking for war, and if war was the thing looking, finding the fae to twist them into it’s wake, perhaps his opinion doesn’t matter. but war isn’t looking, sayf is hunting, war the very strength in their arm and purpose in their step. to allow yourself to be dictated by something as mere as war, rather than harnessing and taking the reigns for the chaos that blooms under their feet? 

ah - that’s the name of the taste. disappointment

❛  if it finds you, then there’s no looking involved. ❜   they step out to look over the pools next to calder, hands in their pockets. it’ll take an additional third of a second to draw their weapon, enough time for cal to just about draw his, but it was a polite hint at being non-threatening.

calder always disappointed. they knew he could be more do more, but any ambition he once had seemed to have settled, and they were still trying to spark even a touch of bloodlust, to indulge in the adrenaline of combat and success.

[ it was all they knew, the only language they could truly speak, that of physical contact of seat and grit and an unspoken communication of what war could take and bring. perhaps it was selfishness, finding someone else that could be so like them when they first arrive, and trying to share with them that alphabet of wounds ]

they shrugged at the familiar address, not going to confirm that excitement had been injected again at the high fae’s execution, not about to insult cal buy trying to deny it. (the first blood shed in this destruction and they couldn’t wait to see the rest  f a l l )

they stare up and over the pool, missing cal’s reflected gaze, a quick blink the only thing indicating some deeper reaction at his comment of his own blood being shed.

sayf had no doubt that would be the result, no matter what deadly core calder was hiding. they would be standing and he would be dead. that was, in all truth, the aim - for the courts to be dead.

❛ if war comes, it’ll come in its own time. i’m not impatient to see your blood shed ❜  

was it ironic that that was the truth? the second sentence slipping past before sayf could catch it, certain that the natural silence that prevented the fae from lying would apply. there would be unfortunate casualties, collateral damage that had to happen. he was still fae, still worked for and upheld these stupid courts and promises that could never get fulfilled. a cog in the infinity that they demanded, and he didn’t even have the understanding to take advantage of the sick gifts and attitudes the rest had.

❛ why? already prepared to shed it? ❜

Being considered a disappointment was a label Cal could have shrugged aside with far too much practiced ease, it had followed his steps throughout life and some things, once rooted deeply enough, lost their venom when a constant chorus in the back of a one's mind. His foster parents, sibling, even several within his own Court, they all might have mumbled the very same under their breath, or in bolder moments hissed at him face to face in their irritation, chipping away at his sense of self. 

But all it had taught him was the daunting truth of either allowing the mantle to lie on his shoulders and move onward in spite of it or give up; the latter wasn't something he had allowed himself to do. Perhaps one day, when his resolve was finally spent and he couldn't find a single glint of light left around him, so fully worn down that nothing remained, but life hadn't fully failed yet so he wouldn't fail it in turn. Even Sayf, of course without knowing, gave him something unique even if it were words laced with blood and cold scrutiny. That, troublesome as it was, remained just a small amount better than solitude. 

"There's no being prepared for things like that," Cal replied with a tip of his eyes from the water into the space beyond it, the emptiness of the air that felt heavy with the sort of electricity that matched Sayf's motions and was embedded within their very presence. If there was fury to be wrapped inside flesh and bone, throbbing through veins and beating alongside a tense heart, it was the vicious hunting dog of the High Court. It was frightening, no mistake in that, Cal had seen moments of calculated rage and control in simply practice that would have left him stumbling back if it were real, if Sayf had been truly eager for his throat, he gave that much the respect deserved and tried not to linger in the haunting image of a nightmare.  

Would he be prepared if it came to war? No, because he would never be prepared for such things. Ready, yes, but they were not one in the same. Cal knew his sword, knew how to counter and how to defend those he was sworn to, could hold his own even with the degree of temperance he was resolved to, but to be prepared for war was inviting the beast to come with snapping teeth. Inviting it to devour, to play games of pitting life against life and worth to worth; it was accepting that there was no path left but destruction. Cal wouldn't invite such things, nor easily accept them, he would only do as he had to for the sake of the Court.  Even that he might have found doubt in, if not for how deeply his loyalty to the heir ran. That light, truly, was one he knew could stand to change whatever it was their world was slowly falling headfirst and carelessly into. 

"But you won't shy from it either, will you Sayf?" He posed the question without needing an answer, spoke it with a name because names made people of monsters and settled a familiarity upon them above that of prowling, angry creatures. They were no mindless animal, perhaps one just as leashed as himself though without the full realization of that yet to reach them, but names were also a reminder that they were more than only a collection of flesh and reflexes fit to hold a weapon. Cal did not forget that, not for a moment, even if in the hardest of them he would do better if only he could. It was the holding back, he knew, that might leave him standing at his own end.  

He couldn't argue it though, not having made the choice himself back when he was far too young and foolish to understand the collar that came with it. Sayf could think whatever they liked of him, the worst if it gave them some comfort in seeing him unfit for his purpose, but he saw something of kinship there just short of the madness that drove the other fae to such delights in destruction. He couldn't really say that it would be that way forever, perhaps in time when he'd had to swallow down enough of the death and horror himself Cal would find a monster lurking in his own eyes. So how could he turn a frozen shoulder to someone who might simply be a forewarning to his own future? 

Aurelia supposed there was an element of risk to wander the High Court alone without members of her court as backup. No doubt, the Summer Fae would be closely monitored for the duration of their visit at the High Court. Yet, she couldn’t tolerate being alone with her thoughts in her room that had been so generously provided by their host, so she had turned to wander the halls of the High Court. As loud as her heart screamed for justice, she struggled with the situation before her eyes. Too many factors to consider and asses and not enough room for errors. Some may call it hubris, but Aurelia knew for a fact the army of the Summer Court would triumph against the High Court. Yet she couldn’t ignore how anxious she felt. 

For too long the Summer Court had bowed its head to the High Fae, the very same fae incapable of keeping their own court under control. Nonetheless, she saw the current events as a waiting game - one she was prepared to secure an advantage for her court. However, frankly court politics was the last thing she wanted to think about tonight. After a day packed with checking in on her court, she felt drained but sleep escaped her gripe as her head was plagued by thoughts of war and espionage and it showed. Well, it showed to Aurelia despite remaining in her gown of butterfly wings looking as radiant as she needed to be as a member of the Summer Court. 

Having read about the Oblivion Pools, she decided tonight was as good as any to admire High Fae’s engineering. As if she would publicly praise the High Court, but in the end her curiosity won against her pride. The appearance of another fae still awake so late in the night had been a surprise. However, based on his hair and how at ease he looked in the pool, she inferred he was a member of the Undersea court. “Lucky for you, I’m more of a marksman. Tell me, is it possible for an Undersea fae to drown?” she asked absently taking a seat at the edge of one of the many pools. In the past before the events following the coronation, she would had been more gentle with the jab. Her own brand of playful and cruelty, a seemingly harmless game of cat and mouse. She supposed tonight was a night of exceptions as she studied the fae. The next few days in the High Court held far too many uncertainties for her to pounce before thinking.  

 “Enough blood was shed this week,” she admitted, her eyes drifting towards the constellations above their heads. She held little respect for the stars; they were a constant reminder of her own foolishness and she refused to succumb to their influence despite what tradition demanded from her. Yet, she couldn’t completely ignore the serenity evoked by the pools. How High Court was able to craft an experience of pure weightless would be admirable if she didn’t yearn for vengeance. 

"When we're young and reckless it's nearly all we do." He spoke without tone, something distant in both the words and his gaze while he stared into the depths of those pools such a shallow comparison to the endless deep of his ocean home. In darkest places, endlessly downward, his kind kept their secrets and pretended that they were too alien for the likes of those upon land. Just as those among the clouds were too lofty, the summer sun too scorching for others and the touch of winter too strong for those not of its' blood. And it meant nothing, split the skin and they all emptied themselves out with the same crimson. He tipped a glance to the owner of the voice in all her shimmering glory and sunlight shine, impossible to mistake one Court for another and she was a sliver of the summer. He envied them in that strange place that whispered of memories robbed from him in the back of his mind, because he had always looked to the light even as the sea flowed within him. In that place between Cal had dwelt watching one and finding comfort in the other. Still, they caught him off guard at times, the terrible loveliness of the summer children. 

And now, even more, he understood how sharp their claws were, how powerful their rage and hunger when wronged. It evoked a mild terror, left him wondering if war were to spring forth how he would counter the fury of those he would have to stand against from that brightly burning Court. 

That was not a though he cared to linger in, but it would not leave him easily. Her words took him by surprise, struck up a startling little swell of gratitude over such a simple expression so close to his own feelings at the time. He barely caught himself from agreeing too swiftly, because to voice that he was so weary of the bloodshed was hardly fitting for his position and, miserable as it was, it was more important than ever that he tried to reflect what he was meant to from his Court. Weaknesses would be exploited and Cal knew his own would carry repercussions if he didn't keep up that illusion of distance the Undersea held as a shield towards others. He couldn't choke them fully down, caught at the back of his throat, he coughed and shook his head to tug some resolve back together. 

"They won't give you answers," he finally spoke with a bare lift of his chin to chance a glance at the stars as she did as well; he had never held any faith in them. Had admired their beauty and the wonder of their presence but guidance? Where so many had turned to such things Cal had never been granted it; his path had not been set in front of him by charts and secrets the skies held but by the word of a Queen he still held a hint of fear of when she grew as angry as a hurricane. "They won't do anything but shine," Cal added with a trailing wistfulness of that lost beauty on his tongue, "and at this rate laugh at us, I'd imagine." How he missed the glow of them, wondering when he would be able to see it once again, when it would be a welcome glimmer rather than only observation of the scurrying creatures below them.

In all truth, Eleri was likely not half as concerned by the recent bloodshed as she should be. And she knew that. She’d known that, the first moment she’d watched the floor be washed in red and found herself, more than anything, morbidly curious about what this would herald. Waves were crashing onto the sand, and she was eager to see what they would wash up, even if the waves were a sticky crimson rather than the blue she called home. Still. She was not foolish enough to ignore the delicate precipice upon which the Courts danced their dance. You did not serve as long as she had without knowing where to step with caution, where to simply watch instead of seek. 

Of course, currently she was required to wait. Others discussed and she, if needed, would be the vessel through which they communicated. That meant that she was left wandering the High Court, and it was to little surprise that she found herself at the oblivion pools. Finding Cal there, however, was far from expected. To say her heart skipped a beat would be an understatement - her heart stopped, got caught in her throat trying to flee. Here was where recent events tripped her up. Seeing him - seeing both of them. They were that much more unavoidable now, and it felt a little like a knife, slowly twisting. Before she had registered the decision, she was moving to the other door. She was quick, and quiet, and Cal was distracted and -

His voice stopped her short. Achingly familiar. And something in his tone tugged at her very being, turned her eyes towards him. He sounded tired. Part of her, some treacherous shard of her heart, wanted to take his hand and make him rest his head in her lap. She’d brush her fingers through his hair and he’d talk and she’d listen and…

She should go. She should find somewhere else to be. Wait near the discussions, in case her services were urgently required. Go see if she could coax - or, more likely, pry - anything out of Sayf. She drew her arms in to her chest as if to somehow avoid detection after already being caught. There was something defensive there too. An attempt at making herself smaller, at shielding her vulnerabilities. She should really, really go.

But… but Cal had always been the softer one. The one trying to quell the conflict before - well, before. Her eyes traced his shoulders, the curve of his jaw. She fumbled for something to say, coming up empty. That was to be expected, she supposed. What did she even want to say? Meaningless words of comfort? That would be wildly presumptuous of her. Just because she had known him once, didn’t mean she knew him now. And even when she did, she’d never been able to say or do or be enough. Her hands curled around each other, resting over her heart.

And so, she was silent. But, when she finally moved, she didn’t run. She took a seat at the edge of the water. The comfortable distance was at once too close and not close enough.

He had grown weary of ghosts, all his life they had shadowed his footsteps in some way; echoes of a past he couldn't claim, empty promises of acceptance he'd longed for with every ounce of strength his young and foolish heart held, people he had coveted only to have that lain bare and empty when life had stolen them in one way or another. Cal had felt the chill of being haunted far more than he had ever voiced because to say it made it real and he was childish, still hopeful, even though he knew in the depths of his mind that hope was a fool's errand. He made a good fool though, he supposed, for all his stubborn want to cling to the idea that things would get better. As though a morning would crest when there was no tension between the Courts, when he would fully know who he was and the people who were still beloved to him would find peace. He would stand being haunted a bit longer, for those things. 

Sometimes though the ghosts were too real, too much a reminder in the day to day. Eleri had become that in recent years, his own personal specter of better days turned to ashes, his memory of the sunlight under the waters. Yu was no less a recollection of the same, but she had been so far away that seeing her only days past had felt like a jolt, a stabbing pain rather than the slow bleed of the wound that his other companion left him suffering as she drifted through the background of the Court they both served. She could see through him at times, Cal had no doubt, saw the slip of worry that sometimes crossed his gaze when they both were present for dire discussions among the Court, the wariness he felt in some choices made. The fact that Eleri had never voiced his moments of faltering in the image of resolute and unshakable as he should have been as the heir's guard was something he was grateful for but still, in a tiny way, ached. She knew but she was beyond care over it; she was far beyond her old concerns for him. 

He didn't move, could see her reflection within the pool and that was enough, a mirror image was perhaps better than the weight of her full presence. While she had stepped away from childish things he had tried, but time and again found himself failing at it. He could not do even that right, in letting go and moving onward he still felt his steps unsteady now and then. It was concern that burned in the back of his mind, danced upon his tongue and finally he had to speak or risk choking on the feeling. 

"Please, be careful," he trailed off, both of them had a role within the Court that war would make demands of it if that monster decided to roar. There was danger in it for her, messengers were not safe in the chaos of tensions and the words they carried for those who would not lower themselves to the risk of delivering them. 

It was a nagging little fear in the back in the back of Cal's mind that Eleri might be pulled under the waves of that madness and crushed, all because her place was a servant to those who decided the tides of battle just as his own was. The small comfort in knowing it wasn't as direct a risk as the expectations upon him was hardly one at all, not when weighed against actual safety. And Yu as well? A traitor to the Court in the past? He wasn't even certain where that might leave her in the end, the dangerous spot where she stood. He'd already lost the both of them but the possibility of either meeting their end? Cal couldn't allow it to cross his mind for the amount of pain that stirred up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't protect them, he just had to hold to faith that they could look after themselves. 

The want to say more lingered but he wouldn't let it pass his lips, the flurry of motion the Court was in would continue back home, they would both fall into busy paces. They hadn't talked in such a long time and it was a sobering realization that he might have been letting the last chance to speak with her pass by; if it all went to the worst he would simply be gone to carry the burden of battles rather than the luxury of wandering as he had in those more peaceful days within the Court. He felt the wasted time acutely, felt the years of the past in all their good and their bad settled over him like a second skin, but perhaps it could never have been any other way.

As much as he longed to offer some light, to accept it himself, it felt like a bitter cruelty when things were all so uncertain. She had built herself a castle in the life gathered and set her walls too high for him to climb, perhaps he could have torn them down with some time. But time might have been one gift he might not be granted and to leave it half done? That was only selfish want on his part; why would he try to mend old bridges that neither of them might have time to cross? There was no answer that felt fair to him but he couldn't stand the idea of, so long after she had already held the funeral for their past, giving her a reason to mourn him again.

a thousand glass shards stabbed into the curtain of the night, their light the shine off glassy empty eyes. Infinity, emptied, chaos; and blood never did stick to the expanse of the night sky, even the fae small against its endlessness, but sayf was going to consume it with the energy that was curling up under their feet.One death, and another, and endless more and what was trading one for another when all the fae would die?

sayf couldn’t sleep with the promises on their tongue, the possibility of war the very heartbeat in their chest. (but sleep, perhaps, was one of the few things they surrendered before the courts). perhaps that taste for blood was what drew them to the pools, though not as thick, not as copper, it would do.

instead, it was the back of calder, and that thirst grew quiet, an old urge instead growing sharper. their lips curled up as they approached, no more silent than usual, and a familiar disappointment burst in their rib-cage at his lack of reaction until they were too close to avoid.

❛ if i was trying to sneak up, perhaps, but if you’re looking to not being stabbed, you’re doing a poor job of it. ❜  they replied, picking out his words to throw them back at him. he sounded tired, but he rarely didn’t in their presence. sayf trained near alongside him, had hopes to see his elevation from guard grow as high as their own, perhaps another to equal their skill, provide a challenge, entertainment, reassurance that hedonism and laziness were not all that the fae were.

instead, he’s the hieress’ guard, and whilst commendable, sometimes they question the undersea’s choice.  ❛ it’s a good time to practice ❜  they mirror, tone dry even as their heartbeat quickens with excitement.

If Cal could have put a name to the sort of animal blood-lust that most people only knew of in nightmares, put a shape to it and given it sharp fangs and glowing eyes, it would have been Sayf. Their acquaintance, because he was certain the term friendship was one the other fae found borderline offensive, had been one of blades and cutting words. Practice, bitter in its' truth; learning the subtleties of each other in a strangely intimate way by studying reactions, tiny habits in how each balanced a weapon and in their motions that all was for a singular purpose of understanding best how to destroy each other if that were what was required. The thought had never felt like such a poison in the back of his mind as it did then, hearing the eagerness on the other's tongue only a grim little promise.

How strange it was that people he knew their form and reactions nearly as thoroughly as he did that of a lover were always ones who had a sword turned in his direction. A trade of wounds instead of touch, true, but still a bizarre familiarity between people that was unique. 

There was an ache there, knowing that if war were to rise like a starving beast it would consume many of those he knew the closest. And, ultimately, likely it would mean he would see the blood of people he had no desire to harm, all for the sake of necessity. Cal wasn't certain what thought was worse; knowing that if he were to die it would either be at the hands of someone he knew or at the cold dispatch of a stranger. It wasn't a choice he wanted to make and, thankfully, it would likely be one he had no say in.

"I am," he agreed rather than argue because what front did he have any need of? What argument could he make when both the murders around him and his personal brand of grieving in rough encounters with his past had turned the waters under his skin inky and slick. "Not looking, I'm not looking for war either but that opinion won't matter much if it finds us, will it?" 

His mind's eye wove a quick image of facing off against Sayf, of stances he already knew from practice they took instinctively, of how they held their sword just so and the side they favored when stepping into a swing of their blade; he was hardly as poor a guard as he liked to consider himself but admitting that he took such calculated study of every motion? It felt too much as though he invited the idea of a battle, of blood and ruin, and Cal couldn't stomach that.

He knew, from that scrutiny of their actions, how to defeat Sayf if it came to that but his downfall came in also knowing he never wanted to be the one to draw the final blow. 

At the mention of practice Cal was tempted to shudder, practice at what? Killing each other? Of course. And Sayf's lust for it wasn't even something he could find damnable about them; they were raised upon pain and fed bloodshed, to them it was a satisfying game no different than his own enamored daydreaming about places he would never see. A safe haven came from what a person needed to feel as though the world could not touch them, how could he judge where they found it? Had they even had a choice in that? Or was the role of soldier just always cast to those who had some crack in their sense of self that allowed others to twist and shape it into a loyalty to death and battle for whatever reason could be manipulated into them?

He was no better, but at least he could cling to knowing his charge was better, kinder, than the rest of the Court and maybe in the end that would mean something. His faith in the heir kept him steady to his post, so how could he judge why anyone else kept to their own? 

"The smell of blood got you itching, eh Sayf?" He stared into the waters as he spoke, avoiding his own reflection to watch their's instead, he would have rather faced down their glinted eyes than stare into his own troubled ones. “If war comes along you’ll see enough of my blood as it is, are you that impatient for it?” 

[ @gildedlucius [

The question might have prompted a dozen answers not very long past, a rattling of a list made up of names and possibilities that didn't ring exactly fear in the back of his mind but a deep apprehension of the worst that might as well have been kin to the feeling. It was surprising that, in moment, Cal struggled for an answer that felt honest.

Not that he owed the other man honesty, he owed that to none but his own Court, his friends, those etched into his veins by what they meant. He didn't owe anyone else such things but too often he gave it in small ways because he didn't see the harm, but also wasn't accustomed to seeing the sort of malicious chaos the past few days had granted him. 

In some way the politics didn't surprise him, he'd been a part of the Court himself long enough to know those in power were simply children scrambling for toys they did not want to share. Now those toys were stained with blood and, still, they were eager to invent new games to play. 

It wasn't fair of him to shut down entirely, the other man was still mostly unknown but their last meeting had left Cal deeply curious of something he had glimpsed but had not spoken of. It still tangled in the back of his thoughts, convincing him the question didn't hold cold intention. Kindness, or something a cousin to it; and if anything the bloodshed recently had shown Cal there wasn't nearly enough of that rarity in the Courts. Of course, he was only a fool for it. Or perhaps he just wasn't crafted of the correct sort of stormy waters to shove a cold shoulder towards others himself. 

"I'm not," he finally uttered, because fear was not the name he would place to what he felt. There were better ones; disgust, uncertainty, troubled worry, but fear was what a person wrapped around themselves alone. "I don't really have the luxury of that."

A thousand twinkling glass stars had become more akin to predatory eyes and the illusion of mirth and distraction had dissolved into a thick shadow with the claws of a beast and a blood-starved maw hungry for something vile. Madness, revenge, chaos; all were one and the same when it came to it, when the ground could not soak up the crimson that had decorated it. Washing it away for the sake of pretending the whispers weren't laced with venom in the wake of trading one death for another wasn't going to stop them. 

He hadn't dared to linger too far from his own, from the Court, not when the past few days had shaken to the core far too many things taken for granted and in blind comfort. Try as he might, and Cal had done so desperately just to put some sense to the lunacy, there was nothing good to be found in the events. For once he had nothing but a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, twisted into a knot and a distinct cold sensation settled in his chest. 

Finding himself alone, a moment of forced separation from his post so that matters above his allowance of knowing in those tension times could be attended, had left him choking on the distance. There was little pleasure in wandering the towering halls and the glittering spaces of the High Court; every spot his eyes trailed to turned red with blood and the unspoken possibility of so much more ahead. A fool, himself, what sort of soldier balked at the possibility of war? They were supposed to be made for such things and all Cal felt made of the past days was mirrored glass; reflecting what was expected of him but dangerously near to shattering. And he loathed it all; the ambitions that had led to such destruction, the rage that had demanded debts paid and hated it all the more for forcing him to look past the shine around him. . 

Couldn't even find peace where one like himself should have done so with ease, that instinctive draw to the rippled surface of the strange pools. Water, of course that would be where his scattered thoughts guided his feet. Any other day perched at the edge just short of contact with the glossy surface, any other happy moment, he would have found them enchanting. Still wished he could have.

A poor guard, perhaps, he would confess it at times, and that moment he was so deeply wrapped in the cocoon of his thoughts that he failed at first to hear footsteps until they were too close to his back to avoid. Only a turn of his jaw, barely, towards the sound, the intrusion; that savior who rescued him from his own tumbling mind. “If you’re trying to sneak up on someone to stab them you’re doing a poor job of it, but you picked a good time to practice.” He muttered, and if the words were meant to be humorous his tone certainly didn’t offer it, flat and worn. 

"The problem with that is the things people don't know about me I can't even claim to know myself." He trailed off and allowed the words to bleed in the air, there was of course truth to them but there was no easy answer. On one hand he could have counted his secrets, on the same hand he could have counted the amount of them that were hidden even from himself. 

That was the burden of not having the key, in such a basic way, to unlock who a person used to be and being uncertain as to if that that had sculpted who they became. Was it stars or all random chance? 

That was a secret Cal would have paid dearly to have the answer to, he'd long since given up on learning the rest of them. 

"Why would it matter? One secret or the next, hiding away things doesn't hold much weight compared to what we'll actually gather up the nerve to admit about ourselves." But it was a poor time to debate the philosophy of self and he knew her interest was more in wanting to pick details apart than in his reasons to it all; that was how it was done and how things were gained. The world was unconcerned otherwise. She was the sort that shined like molten gold and he saw the beauty in it, he also saw that talons and the teeth bared, no less stunning.  

"These days? I'd rather just forget the secrets."

He chuckled, a sound that was only barely above a whisper in the afternoon's glow and half lost in the roar of the tides as they rolled in and out just enough to catch the edge of his foot where it was planted to flex and keep the slow sway too and fro of the hammock steady. The space wasn't a large one, netting tangled like a cocoon, a small bubble of time and space just between the two of them. 

"Me? You sure about that? Yu's got more fire to her." By no means a lie either, in fact he counted it as one of the best things about the other fae. In fact, between the three of them Cal saw himself as the least blazing. It could have been biased of course, people saw the world how they wished to when their vision was laced with stars and happiness; everything had a certain lovely glow.

"Maybe just a little warm, but I think it's the both of us." Because it always would be, not simply himself but the three of them was where the sunlit gleam came from. It was easy to forget now and then, the seas were a chilly sort of place, but all the more reason to sink into that pleasant sensation and set aside the rest of the day and all the thoughts that went with it. He stretched, yawned, never quite fit right in narrow spots with those too-long legs but neither of them cared much.

The shift offered Cal a change to hang one arm higher over the top of the netting and El to find that spot at his shoulder where he could feel the warmth of her alive and aligned with himself as they relaxed and did nothing at all with the daylight. 

 Sometimes it was better that way. 

 He talked, rambling circles about places and books and whatever else crossed his mind and she listened, as always, letting the words wash over her in his lazy tones like the humid air rising from the surf and drowning the both of them in the simplicity of existing inside that moment. When he'd run out of words and the tide had chased itself back out to sea neither noticed, the sunlight was still settled deep in their skin and wrapped around them like a blanket. 

"Really?" Cal uttered a breathy sound that got lost in the low background rumble of Misty's lulling purr of contentment as the sharkdog rolled and wiggled in closer to the hands scratching at her spotted belly scales. He had to duck under a flagging tail as the creature yawned and leaned into the spot where Yu's hands were working a particularly itchy patch. 

He was concerned, true, but only about as concerned as one could be in the lazy sunrise hours and the peace of the world waking up; what could have been that bad? Still, he waited for the answer, careful not to speak over her even as he shoved a hand to the sand and used his palm to push up enough to peer over the creature sprawled in the space between. When no answer reached him in the span of silence, one second, two, three and into the next Cal was tempted to frown but locked the heavy emotion behind a smile he would not, for her sake, allow to waver. 

"Lots of days are hard but today, well, it's not so bad." Cal posed the question to the breeze as it curled over his skin and left the taste of salt on his lips. Shoulders sank back against Misty's bulk and head tipped even further, he regarded her from the upside down vantage point with lifted eyebrows. 

Absolutely ridiculous, of course, but he didn't mind in the least if it broke the glass that was her tensed jaw and faraway gaze. That mirror in her bright eyes was filled with cracks and splinters ready to chip away the shine, wondering if the future was as frightening to her as it was himself while they stood right at the cusp of it looming over their lives. 

The wordless answer, tone collected and cool but he could pick up the hint of distance in it; just where was Yu on that crisp morning when she wasn't there with him watching the sun play games with the waves as it lifted into the sky? More importantly, how could he bring her back from that maze inside her thoughts? Maybe he couldn’t, some things had to be traveled alone to find the door outward.  That truth wasn’t one he cared for, eyes tipped to the clouds and words offered up with the ease of someone who believed them. 

Seeing the undersea fae spread about their regent stirred something nameless awake inside of her, some long forgotten feeling Safie no longer had claim to. In her haste, she had added more chaos and though the ice at their feet was already becoming a puddle, the threat of her was known, even with her having no intention to harm. She glanced where Cal did and back, a fleeting relief was felt at his assurances that he was fine, flitting across her expression where it was lost in the turmoil still wrecking havoc in her eyes. She noted the shove, trying to keep her irritation at bay lest she cause a blizzard and then she was moving with the crowd alongside him, scanning the crowd for any other attack. She had no intention of keeping in step with him for long, but she needed to know.

 “Did you see what happened? Is there more than one attacker?” 

As much as he wasn't eager to admit it, not for lack of focus at the time, he couldn't guess exactly what was going on. He should have been more invested in the crowning, true, but as was generally the case Cal kept one eye on the royal affairs and the other where it was supposed to be trained, on the Undersea's heir, and his friend. For all the things that he wasn't he was, shockingly, a bit better at his job than most would have given him credit for. Not that it did any good at the time, a very stark and harrowing reminder of the actual dangers even in the midst of supposed celebrations. Even then it reflected in his actions; shoulder raised and stiff towards the people too close, flanking Safie rather than crowding her, she certainly was not anyone he needed to or was obligated to set himself into the space between her and the chaos but he fell into the reflexes so easily. Learned, or maybe in part his nature, keeping the outside at bay after her display of uneasiness before.  

"Isn't one enough?" It wasn't for want of coming off informal, more that he forgot that little detail too much when his mind was running full tilt and stumbling over direction. "The one was effective enough, I'd rather not see what happened with two if there is another one lurking around." Impressive enough that it didn't show in the rest of him, steady on his feet was often hit or miss but not the case right then. Another few steps though and he had to sidestep, his jaw tensed and gaze bouncing from one person to the next. At some point it registered in the back of his mind who the woman was but in the jumble of other thoughts Cal lost sight of anything but the singularity of safety. 

He was going to hear about it later, lagging behind, but there were too many people between him and his charge to close the gap. "I'm guessing you didn't see much either?" An afterthought as it trailed across his thoughts with a glance towards the woman long enough to study her. 

She continued to stare, even when his eyes found their way back toward her. Something in her- deep and more primal than she cared to admit- simply wanted to just stare at him for the rest of the night. Past the coronation, past the afterparties, past any responsibilities that might follow her thereinafter. Yuliya’s eyelids fluttered at her realization, and she cast them downwards, at his legs, to conceal any emotions in them. Without a moment’s consideration, a sigh escaped her. She just missed him, through and through. That was it. A simple truth that she couldn’t let slip past her lips. No matter how much she scolded herself with cruel words and reminded her of how undeserving she was of him- of both of them. These were the results of the grave she had dug long ago. 

Lay in it, she told herself, steep in it. Her emotions and desires belonged in the past. None of them were the same beings that they had been before that day. Once she could finally accept that and move past it, maybe she could finally stop carrying the weight that sat heavy in her gut. The ever-growing weight that felt gravity’s effects even more with every memory of his laugh and smile, of the feeling of both of them offering a fond touch in trying times. 

“Then what ever is it- hm?” Yuliya forced out, pulling her hair to one side just to give her hands something to do. She needed the mental distraction, combing her fingers through her hair to get rid of knots that didn’t exist in her purple hair. “Wondering about so you’ll just wind-up lost and not be able to find your way back?”

With an inhale, she tried to resolve herself. No more wallowing in her longing for warmer, happier times. There was no room for those things in the life she’d crafted for herself. For the life that would await her in the High Court. And, yet, just as she told herself this once again, he spoke once more. Yuliya’s eyes snapped to attention, her shoulders pulling back straight from the slight slump that had unknowingly overtaken her once ridge stance. “Have I what?” She shot back, before even thinking of any implications in his words. Once she did and realized it was too late to even act as if she hadn’t heard him, her eyes widened a fraction. Then, she let out a barely hidden scoff and turned her head toward the wall, staring intently at the detailing in the designs adorning them.

She had to pull it together, lest some Fae who had no idea of the events of her past come back and start asking questions. Denying herself from what she wanted was exhausting, though.

“Hmph,” huffed, exhaling through her nose. Seconds ticked by between the two of them and she said nothing. There was nothing she could say- no, there was only nothing she would allow herself to say. The longer she remained in his presence, the more likely she was to crack. Was he remaining in the High court? Spirits, of course, he had to stay. As long as [the Bellwether]’s presence was needed there, Calden’s would follow. 

“So it would seem,” came her words, eventually, ringing hollow. 

"I always find my way back, sooner or later." He trails off with a twist in the pit of his insides that feels like something trying to creep and crawl through them; some monster of regretful history that still fed itself upon the coagulated blood of past wounds. Oh, if only they would stitch together and finally heal, but every time they might have something hooked into them and tore flesh back apart. 

Always, always, he found his path to old places, old faces, and a lifetime that he refused to allow the glint of gold to fade from even if, obviously, it had turned to tarnished brass to the ones he had shared it with. So be it, Cal granted it and said nothing to spoil her anger because it wasn't his place to deny anyone the feelings that laced up their heart. It might have been the stitching to her wounds, that, and if he couldn't spare himself the bloodshed he would her; it wasn't as though he hadn't been braced for a knife. How could it have been anything else? He was the fool, after all, who kept them when neither had wanted to keep him.  

He was lost, in a million ways, and just as she had in the past she saw through them to the hesitant boy behind his eyes. Bolder now, true, but still not brazen the way Yu could stand with teeth bared. To have them bared to him though, now that cut a deep ache. All he could do was keep his feet under him and his head lifted, face the tusmani of it all. But it was peeling back his skin, rubbing raw in spots, his jaw clinched at the mockery because that was too much of an echo of the life the two of them had given him freedom from growing up. Yu knew him too well, knew the barbs that would truly dig in deeply. 

"Don't," his voice finally dipped into weariness as he saw the mistake in it, "I shouldn't have asked." But what was he best at? Mistakes and missteps, turning the world around him into chaos with his own calamity. Want to see them both was a tired plea upon his lips but never should have passed them; it was just the want to see them well though, ultimately. He had his answer for her, in all her finery and purpose wrapped soundly around her; Yu might have been happy.

It was ill timing though, already he could feel the tick of time at the back of his mind, counting seconds until he would have to return to Rowan. Just another stolen moment though, he was too selfish to go just yet. It might have been the last one to steal, if Yu's clenched jaw and the uneasiness in her eyes told tales; he didn't want to be the cause of her misery. Life had required sacrifices of each of them but he had never wanted that sacrifice to be the ones he held closest. 

Still, the twitch of his hand reminded him that it was meant to be wrapped around the hilt of a sword, the price he did not regret but longed for a way that might have granted him everything; why life couldn't allow it Cal had little idea but felt the unfair edge to it so much stronger in that moment than the past months and years; distance brought a degree of comfort that had sloughed away. "It won't be for long, if that's any solace." Cal gave her that, the Court was large and she had the advantage of knowing where he might be found much of the time. “I’ll be just another ghost again soon enough.” He was a shadow, after all, to the heiress, if Yu was so intensely determined to have nothing to do with him the answer was easy enough; she could avoid him. 

where: throne room when: post-attack who: @maelstrom-cal​

What could Safie do but stand idle by while her friend was whisked away from their crown, the coronation turned into an uproar. The winter child tried pushing through the crowd, earning a fair share of curses spat in her direction as those around her suffered the bite of frost. “Sel!” Though she meant for it to be a cry loud enough to be heard, it was but a whisper, a chilled agonized mist. She felt tears spring to her eyes but that well was not to be opened and she summoned a small, harmless flurry to part the crowd for her own swift exit. It was then, turning a blind corner, that she ran into Calder, the contact surprising the winter fae, ice suddenly rising in spiked joints at her feet between them. 

“Are you hurt?” The question was out before she had a better mind for it. The sudden attack frazzled her senses, concern for the acting High Queen overriding the usual frigid exterior she presented.

It was an animal response, a learned reaction carefully calculated and instilled, the surge of noise and the gasps and tension that swelled in an instant was enough to snap him out of the passive spectating of the coronation. What would he have been if he'd strayed for even a second from his post during the event, but it was the interruption that had turned the world upside down. Or was it right-side up? Regardless, blood spilled and Cal went motionless at the side of Rowan as the scramble turned into madness; a step behind only for the sake of that watchful eye at her back.  

His own surprise was set aside, later, there was no time for it then; separation of thought and action came as easy as breathing when it was honed as sharp as the blade he didn't chance drawing in such cramped space. He was too focused on the objective to fully take in everything around him though, it was by the strange grace of reflexes that came from instincts he wasn't all too aware of and, if Cal had thought about them, might have failed him otherwise in stopping just short of the jagged ice that cut his path short. One boot slid back and his other foot planted firm, eyes shot from ground to the woman in what burned like anger a sparse few breaths before his senses caught back hold of him over training and he saw the worry etched over her. Not for his sake, barely, it went deeper than trouble over nearly maiming some stranger in passing. 

"I'm Fine," his voice almost softened though with the words. Cal looked beyond her, a hint of desperation in it, to seek out Rowan to see her meld into the crowd flanked by other guards, sparing him a second to lag behind. He spent it with another swing of his eyes to Safie, "Careful." Rattled under his skin, shoulders squared, he bristled stiffly at the shove of another person past and motioned with the tip of his chin the direction they had both been headed, he'd catch up with Rowan with a few swift steps but sympathy kept him from just leaving the other fae standing there so unsteady.  

The tilt of the male’s chin coaxes Lu’s gaze: moth to flame, magpie to gleam, he views the constellations mirrored in the stretch of sable of his company’s pupils, he watches syllables leave his mouth like ripples around a stone. "So you are only acquainted with the sun in fragments, too,” it isn’t quite exhaled as a question, moreover a satin wondering that he’d keep tucked within a breast pocket, “what a shame.” The edges of his mouth twist to a phantom grin, amusement threads to his lilt, “and yet, that explains so much.”

Lucius parrots his companion, lifting his gaze from seraphic features to the galaxy above, “do you see those five? They form a circle,” a sole digit lifts upwards to a point, “if you follow it down, those form a leg, and the last three form a tail.” He swallows thickly, syllables fall from his mouth, but he can still hear them in a lilt belonging to another (limbs are tangled in the heat of summer, a silhouette is pressed to his side, the mouth of a human is pressed to his throat, and slender digits draw his attention up): “that is Cetus. It means sea monster.” And then his gaze drops as though the sight is searing, “or so the humans say.”

"These days," it's an honest if disjointed sort ot truth and that makes it all the more of an odd notion to voice. Truth rarely has a place in the world save for among closest confidants and of those he can count upon a single hand, robbed of a few fingers by the snapping, hungry maw of life and choices that have severed down to the bone. It's the absurdity of that catches Cal off guard, leads him into a false confidence in voicing much of anything, the strange nature that rings almost quiet in return. But surely not, the surface never does much to reveal the depths if he's learned that lesson very well at all;  a few deeper and the waters always go from glassy to midnight and the same was often the case with the depths of the fair folk just as easily. 

There is something out of place, out of sorts and logic, to the idea of a smile or even kindness and that, more than anything, is the real pity in it. So maybe he was reckless, blind-eyed and dazzled, bemused by the stranger's weighing and judging of him as if he might be unraveling stories in his simple words. And in comparison they are simple, Cal knows as much, he's never counted much on the flair and silvery tongue that comes with an automatic sort of grace to many. He might have liked to, yes, but it has never been a talent, too often the words come out plain and he's settled the score with himself over that one over the years. 

"That's right, humans name them, I'd forgotten that." Even as his eyes lifted to follow the motion he speaks as if recalling it, not the name themselves but the very idea. "Different names, but they name them just the same as they do the waters," it carries him a step, then two, forward with curiosity flared from under his skin, "I've never known their names for them, they follow the stars but they don't make slaves of them like we do." What fae didn't demand the stars to tell them what lay ahead, what Court did not look to those who could read the heavens to guide their expectations? Latching leash and chain to every twinkling light to keep for themselves the secrets, assigning every possibility to some manner of fate within the charts. 

Pupils dilate to mirror saucers for the stretch of a moment, surprise gracing light features briefly at the abrupt noise of disarray; next, amusement finds him. “You mustn’t apologize, you haven’t disturbed a thing,” perhaps had his newfound company not have come stumbling (quite literally) in, Lucius would have been further saturated in the depths of grief; a stretch of space unsuitable for moments outside of his room. “Stay,” the syllable is tender, “the stars appear especially close tonight,” as though they jumped a galaxy to bare witness to the end of an era, “it would be a shame to miss such an instance on my accord.”

The bottle meets the half-moon of Lucius’ mouth, and he peers at his newfound company over the glass: tresses mirror the hue of a clam’s gleam, and a cord of familiarity is strum; Lu remembers him, a ghost of violet trailing behind the Undersea heir. “How do they look beneath the sea? The stars.” Curiosity tilts flaxen features, Lu gives the male his attention in whole.

In the back of his mind the feeling twists like a restless animal, lingering with an uncertainty at the words because very few that were spoke in quiet tones were ever offered in earnest. He'd only known a handful of voices he could trust in that, some part always on cautious guard for the trick to turn, trap to snap and soft edges to turn into mocking daggers. The worst of it was that he knew it was a trained response, a learned reaction instead of one that had ever felt natural. When the eyes of the other man fall upon him it is in curiosity rather than scrutiny, the difference obvious to one dwelt in the former and suffered the latter, and Cal loses sense of his caution. 

"They don't," he admits as though sorrow marks the truth, words escape before he can catch them and craft it into something more suitable, something more tensely polite and formal as they should be. Well, too late for it then, he's already proven himself up to his usual air of misplaced clumsiness twice in a single conversation so there's no use in trying to set the mask into place.

Shoulders a slack drop and a trace of his gaze towards the skies, a vision in lights that never ceases to leave him amazed in how they bathe the High Court in such glow, a drawn sound akin to a sigh edges past. "Even the clearest waters, you only see the stars if you're near the surface. The Court is too far in the depths to catch the shine."  

Her eyes bore holes into the man who stood before her where it seemed his own couldn’t find a place to land. He’d always been like this, a voice in her head reminded her. Seeing him nervous- unhappy still struck a chord in her heart. She knew how to take that pitiful look off his face easily. Plenty of times in the past she had seen him with such a look and it only took her pinching his ear, calling him foolish, and telling him to just pay attention to his friends for Cal to get his mind off whatever it was that troubled him.

But it was her that now troubled him- wasn’t it? Just like how he no longer gave her a bright, warm feeling in the core of her stomach. Looking at him only caused grief to wash over her. At his words, her eyes fluttered and she finally looked away toward a closed door in the hall. Those words sounded so foreign- she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such a tone. “Of course I am,” she spat out quickly before she could let herself say anything that might have betrayed her will to stay away. “That’s my job.”

She was unable to her keep her eyes from trailing over back to him, scanning his form and face. She wondered how difficult working for [ the Bellweather ] must have been, as he had only been given the role mere months before it had happened and left them stranded on islands far apart from one another. Cal looked mostly the same, but there was a weariness about him that hadn’t been so evident in their youth. Oh, how time had changed the two of them. She chewed the inside of her lip, not wanting to ruin the color staining her lips nor to show how much emotional turmoil his mere presence gave her. Fruitless efforts on her behalf, really, she thought as she nervously tucked hair behind her ear. 

“What are you doing here?” She finally said, voice unwavering and firm despite the look in her eyes. “Don’t you have a job, too?”

An honest instant slips past him, her eyes are stone in his direction but he knows them, details as slippery as water through his fingertips; the tint of color and the flick of light that dwells within. In their hard gloss of anger he would have taken it, every rise and fall of air within his lungs a rush while her eyes were scrutinizing. Let her, maybe she had forgotten the look of him or the time that has passed has made him something else on the outside. Has made them both something else, a different manner of beast to match what it takes to navigate those lives. 

And, yet, Cal catches the shine and it reflects in his own sea-shell tan gaze helplessly because for all the dishonesty he might muster he can't keep the mask as strong as he wishes. Because he knows her eyes and the lines of her face right down to the cross furrow of brow and the edge of teeth behind her lower lip to hide an expression; a person can't hang firefly memories and string the colors of childhood upon such things without being able to see them no matter how much finery graces them over. 

The warmth is a thunderstorm inside his ribs, battering buries he'll feel later in spots that had almost been faintly sore and in wounds suddenly pulled back open to bleed. He can't stand the sight of it. Between the lines she is faltering but filled with fire and Cal's palms itch with the want to lift in surrender, even more though with the dangerous certainty that he would, in an instant, claim everything was fine and close that gap to embrace her, because he wants to believe it himself. But it isn't fine, not really.

The sharp knife of her words were a small nip and he let it sting, let the feeling roll over him; she still had pain to spend and Cal couldn't deny her that. Maybe if she exhausted it, the rage setting her alight in ways he has seen before in moments when she was vivid and blazing beautiful like the sun, she might find peace. He shoulders it in first silence, an argument can't reach his lips when there's not one to offer. Ambition had splintered the pretty glass of those young years and he couldn't have been the only one to have spent too many days and night picking the shards from the memories to save some of their shine. He wouldn't blame her though for making daggers from that glass and those fragmented memories; where did the fault even lie anymore?  Where was his right to be angry as well? They had left him, after all, he hadn't forced the choice for either of them; his crime was in the one time he hadn't followed. A crime with what had felt like, not so long after, an emotional death sentence. 

"Of course," the second volley was words were a little less icy but hurt more from the truth to them. "I'll be required back shortly." But it wasn't a misery, not an obligation that drug him down; was it a betrayal that he'd found friendship there as well with the one he protected?

"Have you -" No, his words died away before they reached the tip of his tongue, deciding to spare himself some blood and leave the question unspoken. Tempting fate with another reunion might have been enough to unravel him; just somewhere in the back of his mind he still wished it, just to know they were both doing well enough in the world.  Cal knew there were cracks in his stance, his expression held less resolute than her's with his rattled insides and scattershot breath catching now and then as he walked the narrow line between calm and a storm brewing in his guts. "I suppose you're stuck with me long enough for all of this to be done with." He couldn't stomach the idea of leaving it unresolved but things were different, they were different, and the crystal waters had turned muddy.