#ahqstart

Alina + Open (to Anyone) @ahqstart​

CLOSED

“Hey,” Alina let out a soft, but irritated breath as the stranger tore past her, colliding into her shoulder amongst the streets of the busy market place. She was about to turn on the heels of her feet, all too use to the hustle and bustle of the neutral territory to be fazed by it. But, before the handmaiden could fully spin around, she noticed the stranger’s fallen belongings had spilled out across the ground. “Hey, I think you dropped you’re-?” Alina started to scramble to help pick it up, only for eyes to widen at the sight of what exactly the other had left behind.

There were occasions, even if they were very rare occurrences, where Ada simply grew weary of being inside her own head. With a mind built for warring and variable strategy, the military adviser would often find herself running over some ‘what-if’ scenario or another. Like a game of chess as it were, though infinitely more complex, with all the courts and humans alike rendering it multifaceted. She didn’t know them; didn’t know their weaknesses, had never seen them in battles - It was perhaps what irked her most. They were supposed to trust these people with their questionable loyalties and strenuous bonds that she fully believed could turn around and stab you in the back just as soon as they would willingly forge alliances...All while the human resistance evolved and grew bold in their unchecked shadows.    

Ada had always prided herself on her control, in every faucet of her life; entropy pressing outwards from inside her chest was hardly new, but the fact she couldn’t quite seem to quell it had her erring on the side of caution. When she got like this, she knew it was always better to be alone -- Or as alone as she ever was, given the large pair of wolves prowling along beside her. 

It was an entirely rare thing for her to do, to allow her thoughts a moment of peace as she wandered barefoot through the vast forrest. The soft pull of the sun’s rays breaking through the canopy and rapidly dwindling background noise making it just a little easier to breathe. She had paused in a small clearing, eyes closed and head tilted towards the sun as she tried to focus on nothing but the warmth licking across her honeyed skin. Enjoying the fleeting moment of respite, or at least, what she had thought to have been such. Tíre & Anluan’s low growls briefly disturbing the tranquility as they slowly began to stalk around the now obvious presence a little ways from the tree-line. “You know, it’s unwise to wander this forest alone, who knows what vicious beasts you might run into...”

Although a war had not been declared against the Spring Court directly that did not mean they were safe from the resistance. After discussions with the High Lord, Kuzey knew that he had to tighten the measures around the castle. All the guards were ordered to be at their positions and on duty at all times unless instructed otherwise. He was doing his rounds when he heard an unusual sound, deciding to follow it to see what was happening.  “Well well well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. Now why are you lurking around here at this hour? No, you wouldn’t be lurking now would you? Not here.” Sarcasm laced his tone as he spoke. “Now, please don’t tell me you were not hiding from me. I’d be heart broken.” Kuzey took a step closer in order to clearly see who it was that he had spotted and take his stance accordingly. 

“Okay, so,” Matheus bounced from one foot to the other, one hand still settled on the course hide of the steed next to him. “I washed, brushed, and fed them, only- uhm, only the finest feed, of course. I-” He stopped talking just as he stopped moving, realizing that his constant bouncing was probably more irritating than he wanted. “Did you uh, want to take it for a ride? ‘Cause I can get everything ready for that, if you, uhm... want.” Instead of the bouncing, his spare hand started fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, the edges of which were already frayed from the constant nervous fidgeting he seemed to showcase.

In a circle of trees, where the starlit sky above was framed perfectly by the branches reaching out, Mahina sat in the center staring up at them with her brows drawn together. Counting the stars and searching for the different constellations but her eyes would wander to the moon. How the trees stretched and reached for it but never quite made it. She sighed sitting up bathing in the beams for a moment of clearing her mind and thoughts. The silence around her nearly deafening.

The silence amplified the twig snapping along the perimeter of the circle. Her brows pulled together in concern. She hadn’t heard anything moving and now her concentration reached out further than it just the circle itself. Movement in the trees or any where on the horizon around her. Probably not the best idea to be out alone and she knew that, but she needed a moment to herself. 

“Whose there...” She forced out trying to hide the fear in her voice. “Show yourself right now.” She said searching her surroundings for any kind of weapon she might use that had been left to the flat dense earth below her bare feet. Well shit... she could always find herself in a shitty predicament and this was definitely not going to be the last time. When the figure finally stepped out she sighed, holding a hand to her chest. “If you were wanting to scare someone to death you accomplished it. I’m pretty sure my heart jumped out into my throat and out of my mouth and took off toward the nearest sea border.”

✥ LUKAS ANSELM   ✥ — Wings & Affinities

Lukas’s wings are one of the great tragedies of his life. At the tender age of ten, a foolhardy desire to practice flying ended in disaster and broke his coal-black feathered wings beyond repair, along with his right leg. It was a miracle that he lived, especially after not being found until more than a day later, and by the time he was rushed home to be treated, there was only so much that anyone could do. Ever since, the once-lustrous feathers have mostly withered; the broken bones barely cobbled back together by medicine and magic have left the wings looking perpetually askew, as if crumpled up like paper; and since they can no longer sustain flight, they’ve atrophied and become very weak. They are still large and hard to miss (the longest feathers brush the floor), but the looks they draw fill Lukas with a burning shame. Between their size, bedraggled appearance, and the large bony spurs poking out at the joints, they give the impression of a massive deformed crow or vulture. As such, Lukas keeps them glamoured full time and tried to sleep on his sides and stomach as much as possible, so as not to pain them more than necessary.

It should be noted that Lukas has never taken the loss of his wings lightly. And though they are currently just glorified feather dusters on his back now, he has spent most of his life tinkering and inventing, through science and magic, a means of artificially restoring them. At present, he hasn’t devised anything which can actually hold him aloft, but he has created a sort of artificial exoskeleton for his wings which holds them in their proper place and eases the pain that they otherwise cause him. Despite this, he still keeps his wings glamoured at all times. It would still mark him as damaged, broken, useless.

location; the dragonfly inn

zol did not often make a point of frequently traveling past the mountains, if he could help it; if the word ‘safety’ ever truly applied to him, he only ever coveted it when in the night court. the grand walls that sheltered his people from the humoring trifles of the other fae offered a sense of claustrophobia he strangely was attracted to ― after all, where could one hide themselves in an open area? regardless, zol had ascended to his stature for many reasons, one of which he took great pride in; sometimes the best disguise was that of being in plain sight.

case in point the current moment ― gilded coins, brandished daggers, and multitudes of sonorous chatter did little to curve zol’s attention from the overall awareness towards his surroundings. despite being in fae territory, the spymaster had glamoured his wings regardless; to hail from the night court was as much of a topic as any, and right now he wanted to be discreet. it was not his particular forte to enact in dealings with outsiders, though he’d always been smart enough to realize an opportunity when he had one, and thanks to a tickling of gabriel’s fancy zol had agreed to enact a meeting with a particular client per say.

strange times call for strange measures, that much was clear.

leaning precariously at the end of the bar, the spymaster’s hood is drawn low over his face ― an attempt at minimizing those who might remember he had ever been there. senses keen enough to recognize the presence of those entering and leaving the inn, zol waits patiently despite the obvious notion of time quickly passing; he will stay, begrudgingly, until the transaction is complete ― despite feeling more and more uneasy as the moments tick by. still, his saving grace per say presents itself in the flickering of a shadow near the corner of his eye, an added presence settling in the empty space beside him. zol knows it’s his guest without even having to look, both slightly relieved as well as disgruntled. “ you’re late. “ his voice is icy, cutting through the backdrop of muddled chitchat before turning his head somewhat in notion. “ i was beginning to wonder if you’d ever show up. “

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.”