IN SAECULA 𝐒𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌.

reddish hue flushes their cheeks as another round of giggles overwhelm. hands press against those cheeks, gentle against the warmth, and she shakes her head. "that's playing with fire, arachne. what if we then ruin the genius? extract the creativity by accident and we never witness something so charming again?" it perhaps should've been told in a much more serious tone, but delight still dances in mihri's voice. it's less of an effort when beside the guard. and maybe she should speak that to sound, but she instead tucks it aside. it's for herself, for now. just to keep the questions at bay, for a little while longer.

swiping hair away from her face again, mihri picks up the book, smile now hurting cheeks. "well, just from the cover, you've succeeded in finding an excellent reprieve!" but the smile lessens, and mihri hums, pressing the book to her chest. "i appreciate you indulging in my whims on this in what free time you have. i know it's not the most exciting past-time to search a topic so elusive." and one that refuses to offer her comfort. there have always been bits and pieces she's found through the years, but they have left her with more questions --- and more worries. is her mind already fracturing?

"i haven't found much," she admits quietly. in the next breath, she drops the book back into the pile, spinning to grab arachne's hands. "we should head out to the festival. i know it's early, and --- i know it won't alleviate the feeling of running out of time, but we do need a bigger reprieve, don't we?"

"Because  of  how  elusive  it  is,  it  makes  it  exciting.  Like  a  puzzle,  really.  Trust  the  Cauldron  that  there's  only  so  many  rounds  of  sparring  I  can  do  before  my  brain  goes  as  numb  as  my  fists,"  they  start  to  clean  up,  stacking  the  books  atop  each  other,  honoring  their  Liege's  words  with  an  agreeable  smile.  If  it  was  up  to  them,  they'd  be  among  books  all  day.  "You're  right,  we  do.  Even  though  it's  early,  I've  heard  there's  festivities  at  all  times.  Isn't  it  odd  to  be  around  somewhere  so  festive?  I  suppose  it  comes  with  the  season  itself,  forever  SUMMER  and  all."

A  deep  breathe  in  and  out,  mulling  over  the  words,  'the  feeling  of  running  out  of  time'.  Nothing  could  alleviate  that  for  them,  upon  turning  it  over  and  examining  the  string  of  words  in  their  head.  "You're  right,"  it's  said  again,  though  as  much  to  Mihri  as  to  themselves,  "a  break  would  do  us  good.  We  have  more  time  than  we  think.  Though,  I  don't  imagine  we  have  as  much  time  here  in  Summer  Court  as  we  suspect.  Have  you  given  thought  about  where  we  may  be  transported  to  next?"

the gods and their terrible omens, their penchant for playing tricks. derya could in fact glance upwards, and send a glower of iron towards the tremendous skies. the snort departs from their nostrils as little more than an omen. in a sense, they wish it easier to shed tears, to experience the prickling at the edges of their gaze. then they might hope to cross boundaries which once were slick with ringing steel, with what it meant to press bloodied foreheads together and smile. derya, in truth, will not bring to mind whether or not that was the last time a smile truly alighted. "it is a star, and the fallen tree with no one to hear the noise still stays a tree. this is why i know exactly who you are." such things shouldn't fall with such heaviness, despite the brambles snatching.

"Ah,  so  you've  become  a  poet  since  our  last  meeting?  As  I've  become  a  singer,"  it's  then  they  admire  the  aging  that's  come  to  color  their  features  --  did  either  of  them  think  they  would  be  there  in  this  very  place  at  this  very  time?  Not  when  they  were  younger,  not  even  in  the  years  past  did  Arachne  imagine  that  their  reunion  would  be  in  the  Summer  Court  practically  forced  upon  them.  Ars  wonders  then  where  do  they  go  from  there  as  they  watch  the  other  do  what  some  would  say  is  magic,  what  Arachne  knows  is  skill.  Hard  work.  "Nigh  anything?"

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 ⎯ @n1ghtsongs , @liuyan , @sacerdotem , @brckenrctual

finn’s eyes widened like he’d been caught mid-crime.

“oh. f-former soldier. r-right. th-that makes sense.” he nodded a little too fast. “i-i wasn’t trying to, uh, analyze your… stance. i-it just looked very composed. ”

he realized how strange that sounded and winced slightly. his fingers tightened on the glass. it wobbled just a little in his grip.

when elijah encouraged him, actually encouraged him. finn blinked. once. then again. then pushed up his round glasses on his face

“m-me? oh no, i… i don’t think....i mean... i-I’ve read about p-posture. a-a book once said if y-you square your shoulders and lift your chin you look more a-assured, but every time i try, i feel like i’m p-p-pretending to be a coat rack.”

still, he straightened. well, sort of. he made a valiant attempt. chin tilted, shoulders back, just slightly too much. he looked less confident and more like he’d just swallowed a whole lemon.

“h-how’s this?” he asked“do i l-look… like i belong at a party? or like i’m about to g-give a lecuture no one asked for?” his lips twitched into a shy, self-deprecating grin as he looked up at elijah.

“i-i-if this works, i m-might owe you a whole chapter in my journal. m-mastering posture: the elijah method.”

"If  you  must  analyze  my  stance  to  replicate,  do  indeed.  See,  pretending  to  be  a  coatrack  may  do  you  some  good.  Maybe,  pretend  you've  that  book  on  posture  on  your  head?"  His  expression  then  is  earnest,  as  inquisitive  as  the  other,  as  serious  about  figuring  out  this  endeavor.  "Do  you  really  believe  you  would  not  belong  at  this  party  simply  for  your  posture?  Or  is  there  a  specific  party  posture  you've  read  about  in  your  books."  A  light  tease,  but  Elijah  is  interested  to  see  what  comes  from  his  mouth  next.

"I'm  sensing  your  issue  is  that  RELAXING  is  hard  for  you  --  you've  all  the  elements  of  a  proper  posture  but  when  one  is  anxious  in  company  or  in  life,  it  does  not  help  us  to  stand  tall  or  measured.  Are  these  parties  usually  a  source  of  stress  or  is  that  your  nature?"

satisfaction runs deep through vijaya. her idea sparked the ceremony, and how wonderful it turned out. already, she aches for the next day, when the blessing ceremony will ring strong. but it doesn't yet pain her to be away from the temple. the festivities will not cease until the last moment, and she may as well partake.

the next boat pulls before her, and she peers behind her shoulder. "if you don't mind sharing, i won't mind another passenger." an amused smirk plays across her lips. "that is, if you aren't too hesitant to join a high priestess."

"Besides,  you're  quite  interesting  to  me  so  I'd  prefer  this  be  an  interview,  really."

this certainly wasn't his plan when setting up his stall that morning. the paints were more for his own enjoyment. a way to pass time in the quieter moments of the festival. but he is not immune to a curious face, nor the gentle plead when it comes from a young fae.

concentration lines the furrow of his brows. with a last pink dot in the middle of her forehead, zacarías moves from side-to-side, evaluating the array of petals on the child. "alright, flower princess, you're done." the child smiles, reaching for the mirror, and when zacarías hands it to her, he eyes the fae behind her. "are you here for decoration too, or actually looking at my stock?"

"Do  you  have  any  children?  The  offer  still  stands,  by  the  way,  in  case  you  were  YEARNING  for  some  facial  decoration." @brckenrctual

the sweet cider makes his jaw clench, but the companionship with arachne soothes the toothache. they orbit one another even without the presence of his grandmother, and he is . . . grateful. content, even in the commiseration. it's something rarely shared with his brethren, let alone with one from a solar court. but arachne has always been an exception.

which is why genjiro's gaze slides over his shoulder, marking the offender in the corner. "canal ride. i'm tired of looking at dragons." he drops coin for both of them on the table, taking his goblet with him as he navigates the busy bar. the fae's gaze keeps snapping between him and arachne, fast and charged. but genjiro is faster.

a purposeful bump into an innocent fae, and a loud apology spilling from his lips; wait, look, his hand tips and oh no, the cider spills all over the offender.

"i am so sorry." straight-faced and deadpan, which makes the fae turn red. "i think that'll stain. none of my business though." and right on cue, the fae slams their fist on the table. genjiro lifts his chin, a dare sparking in his eyes. "arachne, still want to head out?"

"Unbelievable,"  it's  almost  laughed,  because  her  companion  was  funny  in  his  own  way.  If  it  were  anyone  else  who  they  were  not  nearly  as  close  to,  Arachne  would  simply  run  and  make  note  to  never  take  their  company  again  but  it  was  Genjiro  and  really  --  Arachne  would  always  choose  their  side  no  matter  what  tides  turned  against  them.  And  if  they  were  being  honest  with  themselves?  They  had  wanted  to  do  the  same  thing.  "You  know,  if  we  wanted  a  MEMORABLE  evening  we  could  just  --"  before  they're  able  to  finish  their  sentiment,  a  glass  breaks  from  the  fae  that  had  just  been  doused  and  is  thrown  on  the  floor.

Arachne  pushes  the  table  against  their  now  opponent  with  a  swift  kick,  seeing  as  they  fall  backwards,  a  grin  starting  to  form  on  their  features.  Keeping  the  fae  in  their  periphery,  they  look  over  at  Genji  finishing  their  thought,  "we  could  just  get  tattoos  or  something  just  as  permanent  as  the  scars  we  may  get  from  this  BUFFOON."  No  whispering  now,  they  hope  it's  heard. 

the commander rests their cheek upon their palm, head curiously tilted, wanting their chess partner to elaborate - "surprise against who? who do suggest we should march on?" memory of a heavenly battle against a sparkle of stars crosses her mind like a flash of lightning. who was the next enemy? the next threat? despite friendly enough with most courts, there were certainly just as many fae of pointed interest as there were friends. "did you know the dark mother has always appeared to the dusk fae? dozens of first hand accounts in their archives." it seemed antithetical to the concept of faith. the dusk court had its proof, they had tangibility to their goddess. she spoke to them while prythian's highest priestesses received nothing but visions. no wonder the court had been eating out of the dark mother's palm. "they say that they were helping her too. in brainwashing the king." at least the high lord didn't seem all that attached to his goddess, considering the hand that yijun played in ridding prythian of the dark mother. "still, dusk had proven time and time again that they'll be trustworthy allies."

a distinct roundness cuts through the darkness of her vision. the sun is warm on their face, the light tickling their skin as the heat rises to the surface, painting them rosy. a flock of birds crow mightily, sharp and shrill. the noise persuades the vacant gaze in their direction. from where she stands, the waves crack loudly against rocks, heavily blanketing them in foam. the temple of the deep should be around there, malaika recalls. perhaps the water is rocking steadily upon its stone. does any of it stick out of the water?

"they say that that the temple of the deep is beautiful, especially when it rises at night." the gaean fae can't help the wistful nature of her tone, craving to see the carvings etched into the marble. malaika's only able to enter in the evening, not the biggest fan of being leashed to a swimmer to guide her down. "have you seen it?"

A  few  steps  are  taken  closer  to  Mal,  not  wanting  to  OVERSTEP  but  always  hoping  &  wanting  to  be  a  guide  --  both  figuratively  and  literally.  "I  still  believe  no  matter  what  wonders  these  castles,  temples  and  courts  behold  --  the  sea  will  always  be  my  FAVORITE.  That  has  been  something  to  bask  in  here,  the  ever  present  bodies  of  water.  I  visited  once  as  a  child  but  I  don't  remember  as  much  as  I  should."  It  was  not  a  good  trip  for  a  young  Clarabel,  to  say  the  least.  "Have  you  taken  a  dip  yet?"

truly, the Courts all had their own desires for it.

"Oh, I am inclined to agree with you, Sister. Perhaps a vote could be the most... fair way of electing the Gaean liege. But, where there is freedom of choice, there is also manipulation & hunger. In the long run, I do not think an election to be the wisest thing to happen to Gaea. Fairness is so seldom found within politics. Perhaps the true neutrality, true fairness lies in magic. You cannot bribe magic. You cannot threaten or promise it great riches if it chooses your candidate. You cannot barter with it, cannot conveniently make it disappear. & there is sanctity in there." Moira spoke with a soft hum upon her lips. Indeed, the fae can me bribed - magic cannot. However, she did hear a thing or two about the Courts & their opinions of Gaea -

& it's next move. "I will not lie to you, Sister. The Courts are weary & on edge. They do not know why it's taking magic so long to pick & choose. They will begin to turn their own ambitions to it, soon. It is nothing definite I've heard - but, I do know how their minds work. Their desires may be in accumulating more power - if they are already extant Lieges. Or, if they are lesser & tired to servitude to the leisurely High Lieges, they may choose to take it for themselves." it could yet be a bloodbath.

that has to do.

But, will it be enough? She doubts it. She does not think ill of the faekin - but, she does not trust them too greatly, either. They are yet to prove her wrong in any instance. So, she merely shrugged, not willing to further sour the mood with her glum opinion - or her more... solemn thoughts. "That is the correct way of seeing her, Sister. She is in everything. In grain of salt, a drop of the ocean, a cry of a gull. Finding reason & her message in those things is certainly not a wrong way to seek connection with her. In fact, who is to say she doesn't speak to us in such manner? Perhaps she had turned to using her voice as a last resort, upon witnessing us remaining blind to Her subtleties. & why should gods be anything but subtle? Why must they be loud for us to hear them?" she retorted.

A  smile,  comforted  by  the  words  and  ones  that  echoed  her  previous  sentiments,  cast  in  Moira's  direction.  She  was  right  --  Clarabel  believed  in  the  magic  the  absolute  most.  The  magic  that  had  ravaged  her  childhood,  untamed  and  wild.  The  magic  that  had  caused  strife  in  her  household,  that  brought  her  to  where  she  currently  was.  It  simply  was  --  no  matter  how  much  vilification  had  come  from  her  parents,  how  much  they  had  punished  her  for  being  who  she  was,  uncontrolled  for  so  long.  Magic  was  always  fair  where  people  were  often  not.  "Mmm,  you're  right.  The  way  in  which  you're  right  about  this  particular  matter  was  something  I  NEEDED  to  hear  more  than  I  think  I  knew  until  now.  How  grateful  I  am  that  you  said  it,  really."  Though,  could  it  be  possible  that  the  very  magic  that  brought  them  here  uncontrollably  could  be  above  the  Mother  or  the  Cauldron,  be  corrupted?

This  weighed  heavy  on  Clara  often,  though  faith  was  meant  to  be  tested  for  otherwise  it  would  not  be  real  faith.  Even  more  evident  by  the  next  words  that  Moira  shared.  "That...is  not  surprising.  I'm  no  strategist  and  while  I  would  much  rather  believe  that  this...convention  of  sorts  is  to  bring  us  together  as  Fae...there  is  the  OTHER  thought.  That  if  this  magic,  that  we  all  believe  in,  that  truly  unites  us  is  corrupted  in  any  form...that  this  would  be  a  purposeful  game  of  politics.  The  courts  just  came  together  to  enact  a  great  good  after  a  terrible  period,  is  there  not  a  possibility  for  a  rebound?  For  the  cauldron  to  tip  once  more?"

A  unique  pressure  that  Clarabel  felt  being  the  High  Priestess  of  Gaea  during  such  a  time  was  this  expectation  that  she  had  her  finger  of  the  pulse  of  this  magic.  Gods,  even  she  wished  she  did  --  not  for  the  power  it  would  wield  her  but  for  the  answers  it  would  give  her.  An  errand  thought  at  times,  the  idea  that  she  could  be  chosen  as  High  Ruler  was...TERRIFYING.  Though,  a  part  of  her  did  think  that  she  could  take  to  the  mantle.  However,  it  felt  at  times  as  if  she  was  already  failing  as  her  position  as  High  Priestess  of  Gaea  with  the  little  she  knew  or  could  do  in  the  last  year  to  change  or  prevent  the  events  that  occurred.  Another  drink  is  taken  then,  Clara  knows  that  should  she  dwell  on  all  of  this  --  emotionality  would  win  over.  That  was  not  something  she  knew  if  she  wanted  to  share  with  her  sister,  not  out  of  lack  of  trust  but  out  of  resenting  looking  weak  enough  already.  Another  old  wound  she  thought  had  healed  over,  exposed  once  more,  another  reason  for  her  to  listen  instead  of  talk.  To  glean  from  a  High  Priestess  who  had  been  in  this  position,  with  more  tenure,  more  knowledge.

Eye  contact  again  is  made,  some  of  this  feeling  is  betrayed  in  Clara's  eyes.  "I  think  we  as  Fae  have  seen  such  loud  instances  of  strife,  that  I  know  some  would  feel  more  comforted  by  even  louder  proclamations  of  comfort  and  justice  from  the  Mother.  One  of  my  acolytes  is  wise  beyond  her  years,  CONSTANTLY  reminding  me  that  from  our  temple  --  we  can  be  obtuse  to  some  of  the  real  issue  and  suffering  caused.  Magic  does  what  magic  does,  fae  will  as  well,  but  in  a  utopia  world  every  fae  would  have  a  home.  A  place.  Food  in  their  bellies.  That  is  not  the  case  for  our  Great  Courts  &  nation."  A  frown  then  and  another  drink.  "I  think  many  have  been  restless  for  many  a  reason  since  the  wars.  Wars  we  do  no  even  have  record  or  knowledge  of,  wars  that  are  INHERITED  as  much  as  fought.  The  events  of  the  last  year  as  much  revelation  as  they  are  –   also  a  resurrection  of  long  forgotten  gripes.  The  fae  need  the  obvious  when  the  pain  is  poignant.  If  we,  the  High  Rulers,  all  of  us  in  our  comfort  do  not  keep  sight  of  that  --  we  will  not  see  clearly."

finn wasn’t sweating, technically. but the back of his neck felt like it was on fire.

the summer court courtyard was glowing. lanterns that looked like they were floating in the air like lazy fireflies, music lilting gently in the background. people from all over mingling and talking. everyone looked like they belonged.

except him.

he’d been clutching the same half-finished glass of something orange and-bubbly for the past hour, attempting conversation and watching each one spiral into catastrophe. one person asked if he was a warrior. he choked. literally choked. another had complimented his jacket and he'd responded by quoting weather facts.

“i-i-it’s… l-linen” he muttered to himself now, practicing in case anyone else asked. “n-not wool. b-breathable. you know. b-because it’s summer.”

smooth. very smooth

he glanced around and spotted someone standing alone near a low wall covered in growing vines.

he took a shaky breath and approached. he walked up to them and suddenly he couldn't remember a single thing to say at all.

“h-hi. u-uhm. i l-like your… p-posture.” he blinked. fuck this was going bad. "wait. n-not in a weird way. just you’re standing v-very confidently, and i thought, ‘w-wow, that’s…th-that’s nice.’ not th-that posture matters. i mean, i guess it does, s-s-socially. s-sometimes.”

his voice trailed off. part of him wondering if he should just run now.

Elijah  had  seen  the  young  Angmar  FLOUNDER  during  many  a  conversation  and  though  he  imagined  Finnbarrus  was  probably  mortified  by  it  --  Eli  was  amused.

So,  when  the  other  came  up  to  him,  there  was  a  friendly  smile  upon  his  lips.  A  welcoming  one.  "It  is  the  posture  of  a  former  soldier,  Mister  Angmar.  Nothing  particularly  special  about  being  at  attention  all  the  time  --  it  may  be  the  EASIEST  way  to  portray  confidence  even  if  you  don't  feel  it."  An  eyebrow  raises,  "now,  you  try.  I  promise  it's  easier  than  you're  imagining.  Confidence  is  even  easier  to  portray,  no  matter  how  much  it  is  not  felt."

hazel eyes lull towards the stage and back to the astrometerologist, weighing her options. he, at the very least, was a good enough judge to decide what work was not worth the time. "what an excellent use of free well, mister karthigesu." volpina decides, coming to her feet. her rear aches after having sat uncomfortably for the better part of the performance. "these singers are in rare form and their voice are simply so world shattering i too must depart and reflect on why i am not worthy enough to enjoy this performance."