#ahqevent01

The Beaumont-Wren wedding was a celebration to remember. The untold-of alliance between the Night Court, the Wild Hunt and The Garden had brought together an impending sense of something new beginning, along with great uncertainty in its wake. All night, the guests had mingled with one another, watching and waiting to see just who of the many Courts would make their first move in the wake of this new development. Yet as the celebrations continued, they had all begun to relax, increasingly certain that any concerns of war would be put off for yet another day, and that they could continue their revelries in peace.

Given the rare occasion brought forward by the gathering of the Courts, the High Lords and Ladies elected to hold a private council meeting among them. As the festivities wound to a close, the rulers shifted to more isolated quarters to discuss the shifting balance of power between them, while their citizens recovered from their inebriation in the guest rooms elsewhere. As dawn broke through, the Court rulers unsheathed their verbal claws, ready to do battle to protect their interests. Yet wholly unaware to them, there were others with a vested interest in their activities, lurking in plain sight. Watching. Waiting.

But a horrified scream filled the air, as the sound of breaking glass disrupted their murmured discussions.

The source of the servant’s screams had landed with a dull thud as they had opened one of the many balcony doors in the expansive estate their meeting was hosted in, and within the viewpoint of so many guests, there was no hiding the macabre sight before them. A Fae bedecked in the resplendent regalia of the Autumn Court lay staring at the ceiling lifelessly, the jagged stem of a serving knife buried so deeply into her throat that only the handle could be seen visibly. Blood pooled around her, a viciously violent maroon that spread across the floor and stained the moon-touched marble red. 

Guards swamed to the scene, pushing spectators back as they wrestled for control of the unexpected situation. “Step back! Calm yourselves!” Their protests fell on deaf ears as the crowd swelled with unease and panic, looking among one another in uncertainty as the Court security pushed back against them. “This was an accident, surely!” The nobility swelled against it, nervousness taking over rational thought. “Accident? This was murder!” “You told us this would be safe!” “Who’s responsible for this?”

In the jostling, another cry pierced through the murmuring. “L-look up there! At the wall!” The concern shifted to where the body had fallen from, where a guest pointed out the crimson markings peeking out behind the velveteen curtain. As one of the guards pulled the material away, bloodied words written hastily came into striking focus, fear creeping into the hearts of the guests while the human servants, slowly but surely, disappeared from sight. 

‘The Resistance sends its regards.’

His limbs were soft. They dangled at his sides heavily, and Luca could feel them weighing him down, he really could. It was like they were tied to shackles, or gravity was being especially severe to the jewelry on his hands. Anyway, he walked himself slowly through the marketplace and tried very hard not to drag his feet. A familiar thought had already foamed to the brim of his skull. It hissed with a snake’s tongue and many teeth. Hissed: you’d be better off alone, where you’d offend no one, not even God. 

For a man who prided himself as an academic, Luca could have stupidly little foresight. Such as now, with his three glasses of wine warming his stomach and his lightweight brain suffering the consequences. He wasn’t necessarily drunk, but he wasn’t in his head either. The festival’s colored lights blurred in his vision, so he kept his gaze fixed on the ground — to the flattened ice, brown and trampled there. Belatedly, he was grateful that at least he didn’t feel the cold. 

Luca finally settled by a cider booth, leaned against a fence and breathed in the cinnamon. He exhaled slowly and watched his breath cloud. He watched it vacantly. He considered going home. But then someone caught his attention, and Luca met their eyes. When he spoke, his voice was honeyed: “And to think I’d see a little sunshine with this lousy overcast.” 

 ── Holidays at Arcana, Ronan was learning, weren’t as outwardly different than he’d expected them to be. Not that his previous experiences were particularly significant, as in the past his family would merely get together for one or two uncomfortable dinners and exchange a few gifts before returning to the disconnect they maintained during the remainder of the year--- but still, there was a certain familiarity to how the campus had come to celebrate. The food and booths and other festivities seemed to mirror those he would have seen out in the rest of the city, with the additions of magic to only really be noticed upon a closer look, and he was doing his best to follow along with it all.

The party he found himself at the outskirts of had yet to die down despite the hour, and Ronan wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself watching in on the noise. He had been handed some mysteriously strong drink a few minutes before which he’d yet to start in on; it looked odd in the lights, too dark in his cup, and his lack of experience with such things wasn’t helping him place it. Curious, he looked up to the person closest, his voice sounding uncertain as he raised it slightly to be heard over the music from the louder room. “Hey, do you know what this stuff is? Some guy just gave it to me when I got here.”

luca: Finals murdered me, I don’t want to go to the festival this year

Ji Min was not a fan of parties. Her husband said she disliked anywhere that fun was being had. Ji Min said that she disliked chaos. Unless she was the cause of it. She stood back from the crowd, watching the artist who were gathered try to attract customers. She felt someone watching her and approach before she heard them. “Ms. Rai,” she drawled, “shouldn’t you be with the Princess? Doing whatever it is you do?”