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âËâšâ. gather and hear the ballad of crafted of sea foam
âËâšâ. for ofcourtfables as written by jo, she/her.
âËâšâ. view full introductions tag: here.

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making something to memorialize a moment felt like a good way to celebrate her court. but not just that, but to celebrate all of the wonderful fae that she'd get a chance to know. whether or not they'd feel that way was up to them. but mika firmly believed everyone should get a chance to prove themselves. her stubborn nature could easily get her into trouble with this desire, but she didn't care. it was how she found herself making jewelry to celebrate the moment, a necklace that would honor the occasion. looking up, she flashed the fae in front of her a bright smile. "what's your favorite gem? i can make you a necklace, or even a bracelet to celebrate the occasion. it might be nice to remember this moment of calm amongst the storm."
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activity: beading & jewelry
feet growing tired of walking the markets, malaika thought it best to take a seat, discovering she'd sat at the beading table when she'd accidentally knocked over a bowl of small glass beads - feeling almost indistinguishable from the the pebbled ground. they insisted she not worry about it but unfortunately, malaika felt worried at the mess she could not hope to tidy herself. still feeling mortified at the embarrassment, "i'm sorry," she says, cheeks red at her simplicity, "i don't know too much about gems or anything like that. i don't know if i have one."
She gave him nothing. No flinch, no spark of irritation, barely even a flicker of acknowledgment. Typical. She was nearly impossible to rattle, the complete opposite of Gaeul. Where Gaeul burned with sharp edges and shadows, this one radiated warmth, soft and sunlit in ways that made Ares squint when he looked too long. Once, long ago, she hadnât seen him through a lens of disdain. There had been something gentler there, a reminder that there was light at the end of whatever tunnel heâd crawled into. He envied her for it, and heâd sooner die than admit it.
âYou? Scared?â He drawled, his mouth quirking into something that wasnât entirely a smile. âWhatâs this, an attempt to stroke my ego or just a little free entertainment?â
No trace of Gaeul, no Aerin clinging to her skirts... not that it mattered. Conversation with this one was better than talking to himself before he slunk off into the crowd again, eyes peeled for trouble like always.
He shifted his stance, casual as a shadow clinging to the edge of the lantern-lit street. âIâm doing what I do best,â he said finally. âWatching.â A beat passed before his gaze swept her up and down, deliberate, teasing. âAnd looking for Gaeul. Canât really blame me, though. Easy mistake, from the back.â
unimpressed by the prodding, she scoffs, folding a delicate pair of palms against her knees. helene had never thought ares to be bad, but she hardly believed him to be good. his attentions and alliances were too fleeting - a stain upon satin being far more constant than he. ares was only forced to be bound to them for the love of the littlest ashway.
he grates on her nerves - the steel of his stance against the softness of her rind wins as she forces herself into battle with him. she hardly stands a chance against metal. "i suppose someone must at the end of the day. be it my tongue," (in his wildest dreams), "or your own lonely hand, yes?"
by the burn! she was foul for saying it - the uncharacteristic words sit heavily on her tongue. of all fae in prythian, ares rang in on the bottom of her list - just between a suriel and the gap of parchment, awaiting for the continuation of ink. although slim, the possibility of revisiting his placement still existed, it simply had yet to come.
"oh, you think? is that how you found your way into my sister's bed?" looking for the weakness in his defences, the fae twists her knife deeper, her smile saccharine as always. "tell me, ares, what good is watching if you can't tell left from the right?"
â°Â  âĄÂ  her  requests  had  been  nothing  for  the  general,  more  than  happy  to  help  her  in  executing  this  years  celebration.  it  had  to  be  one  of  the  biggest  with  the  fact  that  they  had  the  majority  of  prythian  in  the  summer  court  for  it  this  year.  all  that  noah  wished  to  do  was  have  her  get  to  enjoy  part  of  the  night  without  worrying  over  every  little  detail  of  the  celebration.  â  perfect.  â  seeing  her  extended  palm,  he  immediately  reaches  his  own  over  to  lace  his  fingers  between  hers.  â  you  will  find  something  else  you  want  to  change,  there  is  no  doubt  in  that.  it  is  a  matter  of  how  long  i  can  keep  you  distracted.  â
the press of his palm against hers sees the high priestess melt into her husband, allowing her brain to rest for a moment. oh, how good noah was to her! "you're no distraction, my love." her head comes to the broadness of his shoulder as they walk along the trodden path, well-worn and known. she was happy to walk it by his side, content to be hand-in-hand at last. lavinia did not know how to slow down - an unfortunate side effect of the sisters' competition. thankfully, noah did. solid and steadfast. "you are the calm and everything else falls under the noise. i feel so tired and the day has hardly begun."
their smile softens for a moment. "that i am." even away from dusk, from the land that used to be their entire world, they are both here. if there's to be a constant, a foundation to rely upon, perhaps this is it.
rahim whoops at yĂŹzĂŠ's pose, and they follow in the next beat, clapping over one shoulder then the next. "excellent! that means you're the expert once again, my lord." the line beings to shift, faes weaving through open spaces as they spin. "we must keep up!"
the soft edges of rahim's lips are like a shot of caffeine, yĂŹzĂŠ's own smile growing brighter. dumbly, with a dumber grin, "indeed you are." it'd been so long since he'd felt free to do such a thing, too tense at the precarious state of their court to let loose. but, rahim always had the remedy.
the commander's steps quicken, following along to the rhythm of the drumbeat underneath it all, matching rahim's every step and jump - going so far as to cheer along with the crowd. knowing the next move is a spin, yĂŹzĂŠ reaches for rahim's palm once more, pulling the healer into a dizzying twirl as he laughs. even if yĂŹzĂŠ was an expert, "a dancer is only as good as their partner."

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â°Â  âĄÂ  â  are  you  implying  that  one  can  have  too  much  fish?  â  kris  is  most  definitely  biased  when  it  comes  to  the  idea  of  eating  fresh  fish  caught  from  the  waters  that  surround  adriata.  â  nothing  can  compare  to  the  freshness  that  is  fish  being  caught  in  the  early  morning  and  prepared  that  same  day.  it's  better  than  anything  that  you  could  have  had.  besides  it's  tradition  to  serve  fish  here  in  our  solstice  celebration.  were  we  supposed  to  cater  to  every  other  court  in  our  own  celebration?  would  you  have  done  the  same  if  you  were  the  one  hosting  us  instead?  â
nor resists the urge to roll their eyes, russet orbs losing the sparkle of humour. lips quirking upwards in a dry humour as she chews the wad of taffy, "it's no implication," nor responds. lolling her head towards the summer lord, the length of her hair swings in its lengthy braid, neat and secured with a dark ribbon. "it's a fact, actually. i have no desire to offend your hospitality, lord dragomir. i simply feel as if you serve fish - in celebration and not. difficult to peel apart of the difference."
when it came to the responsibility of the acheson line, roland himself never thought of what it would mean to have extended family involved. his siblings lined up as the part which he raised, and he thought his job was done. then iain came along, in a quagmire of parentage, and denial of claims, and one thing progressed from each other, and he resigned to the role. at first, it was true resignation: an eye roll, an apt excusing of why those who should have raised iain never showed up quite as the high lord saw them fit to. and from all this, tangential to the moment now, when he gives into his nephew's ( as good as one's ) devices and whims, and sits, rather regally, upon the stool across from him. has his eyes closed as if resting.
the line delivers itself like a dog delivering the hunted pheasant. roland's right brow is the first on-duty soldier to respond: quirking towards his hairline, leaving the left behind. that same eye cracks open, peering at iain. "is that so?" quipped. "and dare i ask where this idea sprung from? your well of creativity, your need to forge alliances?" who could say? perhaps it was due to a dream iain had, where he became a knight in shining armour, and wrangled with one of dusk's dragons to smite the king himself. anything was truly possible within those thinking walls. "please do tell me the match candidates."
barely does roland shift on the stool. his eye already drifts shut again. he could go to sleep with the sound of the brush strokes and the dolling of the sea breeze.
"candidates? no, you misunderstand me." they saw him as nothing more than a child. which - as younger than even willow - was somewhat understandable. but, the full depth of his emotion was incomprehensible. impossible to put into words. there's no way to fit lighting into the bottle of a boy, the electricity fighting to discharge. "i am not so disloyal that i should suggest marriage with any number of ladies for an alliance. and, admittedly, i do not believe myself to be so important that i would make a good match for any of the sour faced dusk ladies."
iain leans on the edge of his seat, much unlike roland's relaxed posture, energy running him rigid as he tries to translate the severity of this matter. although dismissed often times as childish, iain was an adult indeed - legally able to make his own decisions on marriage and home and the like. "i've decided that no other should do except for our lady tyanna zarathin, whom i love and have already married."
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"So, when were you going to tell me your married cousin? Or are you still holding a grudge against me?" After their heart-to-heart, the two had kept some distance. It felt rather strange not being able to run ideas by Iain as he regularly did, but the tides were turning, and Tiernan would no longer be passive in interfacing with these rapid changes. "You'd better treat Tyanna well."
"by the bloom! of course i will!" iain says, shushing his cousin with a firm finger pressed against his lips. "don't say it so loud! it's still a secret, tiernan. i told you in confidence." his ears tip pinkly. speaking it aloud is fresh and new, like a bud whose rose petals are only just starting to peek out. it was an olive branch of sorts despite the discomfort of their previous conversation. "i'm not holding a grudge. i told you in the end, didn't i?"
oh, his sigh is a long one. not that he'll deny the order, nor is this the craziest request he's ever received, but there's --- it's simply ---- he'll just get distracted. he'll drift, thinking of a certain pair of bat wings and leather gloves and then santino will ask why his ears are blazing red and ---
maybe he should just slip back into the cauldron he birthed from.
licking his lips, he taps at the parchment. "i'll split this fifty-fifty with you if you carve it. i'll provide the base you carve, and then seal when you're done."
his eyes linger on the parchment another moment, considering the request. money, or his soul? "alright," he shrugs. "that's business."
although his retirement was spent following his passions - chevalier wasn't too precious about what work he did. it kept his hands busy, so he was happy to work. even on the stranger requests.
"thankfully," which was debateable, "the madame left a very detailed drawing for us to get started."
ARA SNORTED OUT AT THE SUPPOSED PIETY. She doubted many of the fae gathered around had truly been a pious as they had appeared. She knew a deity existed. The Mother made herself so very obvious, but... Ara didn't quite have faith in her. "Seeing your face is already a great blessing to my day, Chevvy, must you rip me off with idolatry as well?" she snickered, but picked up a carving nonetheless, running a thumb carefully across the figurine's visage & attire.
it had been exquisitely made.
"I'll take this one. But, only because it's so very beautifully made & because you made it yourself." plus, it would look great on her writing desk, with all the pretty candles & fountain pens, feathered quills & exquisitely made silver inkwells. The mahogany figurine would fit right in. "How much for it?" Ara asked, reaching for her pouch. She'll give him her entire daily allowance, if he asked for it.
sagely, chevalier replies, "it's hardly a rip off when every good follower should have their own figure of the mother."
although ara was an easy target because of their relationship, a sale was a sale. "i'd offer you a discount but who could fault me?" he heaves a heavy sigh as if it the money truly mattered. it did in someways, but he carved for the love of carving. "you and your cousins spend more on a single dress alone than i could hope to earn on one measly day."
"but, i shall offer you an exchange of the reasonable cost of a single gold coin." and at that chevalier smiles, happy with the sale. which was indeed a proper price for an idol of the mother carved in such detail it was as if the goddess had sat for the portrait herself. "is that fair, little ara?"

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Now more striking than the waterfall, Santino looked at his companion with doubt washing over his face, as if he had not understood any of the words the healer had addressed to him.Â
"Itâs possible to sweat out the drunkness in the hot springs? I didnât know! This fae I talked to didnât mention it⸝what was she called?" He pondered the name of the fae who had sold him the idea of that place over the course of a simple conversation; the sole reason he was there. He nodded, satisfied with that newly acquired knowledge about hot springs, which made the  second  fact a bit confusing. "SoâŚÂ does it work or not? It sounds dangerous to pass out in the hot water. I hear you can float  better, though."Â
Was it real? That remained to be seen.
her lips quirk upward, amused by the wonder in his tone - had he been born yesterday? it was rare to find one so bright-eyed and fresh faced. it was refreshing against the bitterness inside her. "yeah, belly up like a dead fish." now, realistically, the amount of alcohol one could sweat out was not nearly enough to sober you up. however, "you can certainly try. but, it's not all that efficient is what i mean to say." the healer's gaze moves towards the water, spying the steady downward stream of water. "because you could pass out. so, be sure to keep your wits about you."
â°Â  âĄÂ  the  spring  high  healer  hadn't  entirely  thought  of  the  trinket  as  something  that  she  could  keep  as  a  memory  of  the  summer  court.  or  at  least  of  her  time  spent  in  the  summer  court.  â  interesting  point,  however  does  this  mean  i  would  need  to  keep  it  on  me  for  if  we  get  suddenly  transported  again?  or  will  there  be  a  trip  to  all  the  courts  visited  to  retrieve  our  belongings  left  behind?  â  not  that  willow  loved  the  idea  of  even  thinking  of  the  predicament  of  them  being  stuck  in  the  summer  court.  was  there  still  a  chance  that  they  would  be  transported  to  another  court  before  they  saw  the  end  of  this?  she  had  no  way  of  truly  knowing.  â  too  true,  i  guess  it  would  still  be  cute  to  look  at  even  if  it  ends  up  remaining  in  the  summer  court.  â
great points were being made, but who knew when left up to fate! iphigenia had faith in the mother, but she was still weak, recovering from the battle as imagined from the lack of communication on her side to the temple. "well, surely the high lady and her wise ambassador will think to devise a plan to send along our things if we're unable to pack them ourselves." but, truthfully, iggy can't even recall what she'd left in the dusk court, or even the capital. "i feel as i'll get my trunks back and it will be a time capsule of a girl i haven't met in many moons."
brows raise in surprise for a moment, but a smile settles soon after. "i don't think it's only meant for children. it can be decorative, like the paints and shadows used for an extravagant ball." the child pulls at his sleeve, and a flicker of concern washes over his face as he peers down at her. "though perhaps it should be done by better hands." the child shoves the mirror closer to her face, free hand still wrapped in his sleeve. zacarĂas tries not to grimace, pointing --- out of the girl's sight --- and mouthing to the newcomer, does she look okay?
jia despite her sharp wit, Â could not stand to use the sword against a child. âyou are the prettiest little flower iâve seen today!â Â behind the toothy grin the child shares with zacarias, Â jia throws up a thumb, Â nodding. Â it certainly didn't look as bad as it could, but not as good as she expected. when the girl scurries off, her eyes trail back to the palette, skeptical of his work. "are you volunteering to do this? the court didn't have the budget to hire a professional?"
"Harem of females?" he practically choked on the words, repeating them. Is that what she thought of him? He wasn't in the business of entertaining women despite his representation preceding him. Trying to grow out of the party boy persona would take some time, but he felt as if he'd shown Jia his intentions, but clearly, he was missing the cut. "Scylla," he nodded, addressing the dragon, wanting to minimize all likelihood of being scalded alive. Tiernan could only imagine what Jia said about him, and with her current temperament, he wasn't standing on solid ground.
"Hello, sweet Jia," he said, offering her an apologetic smile. "I certainly could have provided some correspondence saying I've missed you and have been wanting to see you," he says, approaching her and taking her hand. "Please forgive me. I've been busy with my mother and other matters." Tiernan intended to keep her out of harm's way, yet in the process, he failed to prioritize their relationship. Despite all the charm and suavity he carried in his body, this was newfound territory. He felt inadequate standing before her, but he wanted to see this through. "How about breakfast by the beach in the morning? Undisturbed time to catch up, yeah?"
scylla,  the traitor,  purs.  he remembered my name!  she gushes,  chirping happily.  a well-manicured hand comes between them,  putting space between the drake and the male  â  putting an early stop to any chance of alliance between them.  âdonât try to soften me up with sweet words.  one word from me and sheâll bite your head off.â  to which scylla barks her disapproval but  â  unfortunately  â  jia was the conduit between them,  allowing her unfaithful translations.
still, her own traitorous nature allows him to take his palm in hers,  soothed by the gentleness of the gesture.  oh,  how easily won jia was.  âwhere have you been?â  she manages to ask,  keeping her wits about her (which was increasingly difficult around tiernan). jia had a natural distrust for a male's charms, and yet, somehow the springtime fae had find the chips in her defences, forcing her walls done and creating this bizarre dependancy on his company. he seemed to find quarter in every corner of her mind and yet... mothers?  jia understood mothers.  but  â  âyeah? other matters?" every word of his mouth offends her, almost pissing her off further.  "tiernan,  i cannot stress enough how distressing it is that you find other matters more pressing than me. unfortunately, i cost more than a consolation prize.â
"Well what do you like?" Briar raised a brow. "I can make custom pants and shirts too if that's more your style." She promised and watched her. "I am from the Spring Court, so flowy dresses are really something I have learned to make, but I do love a good pair of leathers too every now and again."
jia wouldn't mind a set of new riding leathers, having been unable to bring any of her clothing from the dusk to summer. but, how much did she trust someone who'd never seen a dragon up close to make her something to wear? "let us go for the skirts then," jia sighs. "anything but a buttercup. i detest yellow."

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"sometimes, i simply wish to test you. after all, you could surprise me on that front." her laughter, a softer, deeper sound, entwines with the general's. she takes the proffered hand. "please, if you would. silly as it is, but i want to avoid blisters for the closing ceremony. may the mother bless the effort and have it be as flawless as possible."
ulka helps the high priestess step into the boat, fussing over her to ensure she is set-up before taking her seat on the opposite end. despite her relationship with faith (or lack thereof), ulka liked the fae. "your wish is my command," she says with a smile. "i don't find it silly at all. your hands are the mother's hands, after all. i think that would be offensive to be blistered and bruised."
rubbing his hand over his face, ruan groaned softly. at this point, he was exhausted. festivals and big celebrations weren't really his forte, or his cup of tea in the slightest. at this point, he just wanted a nap, but felt that it was his duty to keep an eye on all of the members of the day court as they celebrated. surely too much money couldn't be spent during this, right? but there were far too many booths for him to keep track of everyone. that was exactly how he found himself sitting by the fire, a tall glass of sparkling water in his hand. because ruan, didn't drink. how could you when you needed your focus on all of the money. hearing someone's footsteps close to him, he looked up at them. "please don't tell me that you've spent a ridiculous amount of money and you'd like me to calculate the total." ruan's voice grumbled softly. he was nice, really, but money was a sore subject at celebrations like this. "however, conversation and snacks would be rather welcome."
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ullka snorts, "must you always think the worst of me, ruan?" the day general comes to the bench, smile wide and breathless as she takes a seat. her chest heaves, unsubtle as she catches her breath from all her dancing. the fae's bare feet are dark with dirt, her imprint left in the earth around the fire. "i shant be using my brother's money to galivant around the markets, so fear not. i have no work for you to do." their master of coin worked far too hard (not that ulka made it any easier). "however, i do have a request!" she bats her dark eyes prettily. "may i have a sip of your water?"