The sound of wings heralds his presence, as does the light sound of footsteps hitting rock behind the still and silent fae. His lips purse as he takes in the sight, concern filling his green eyes as a soft sigh leaves his parted lips. He shakes his head a little, then he steps forward.
A hand is gently placed on the redhead's shoulder, a small warning before he scoops them up into his arms like they weighed nothing. And then he steps back, away from the edge, their forms fading into the light of sunset as they slipped between the borders between planes.
He flashes the waiting Caedh a small, if grim smile as islands of floating stone are replaced by the boughs of trees under an endless night sky. He had found their wayward spouse.
Together, the two carry him over to the bed. Plush blankets and the warmth of their bodies help warm altitude-chilled skin. There would be time for questions and explanations later. But, for now, all three of them were home again.
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Characters: Idristan, Caedh @thedarknesssings​, with mention of Talia @reddevil-xiv​
Fury boiled inside him like a raging inferno. Talia's words had hit the Ishgardian hard, and though he was doing his best to not show it, there were limits to his control–and he was running into them hard. His mind was a whirl, a jumble of thoughts that made him want to scream. In answer to his anger magic started to pool around him, rapidly turning the floor into a sheet of ice.Â
Above the maelstrom, one thought rose above the others: he had to get out of there.Â
He made it as far as the beach.Â
Idristan stands at the edge of the surf, his hands balling into fists as he lets out a furious snarl. Ice erupts around him in jagged spikes as his eyes blaze with pure silver light, as his skin sparks with the same.
Someone had dared to hurt his Night. Someone would have to pay.
And he knew who.
Another howl leaves his lips as his magic flares once more. He can hear his blood racing in his ears, but also something else as well. Voices, starting as whispers but quickly rising like a crescendo. Voices calling to him, prayers offered to the man in the moon, cries for romance, for the luck of the hunt, for their wish to be answered.Â
Reaching out for them is even more natural than breathing. For their prayers, their belief, was what ultimately kept his facsimile of a heart beating, a heart he was sure was ablaze in his chest as that wave of power crested and crashed over him. It begged to be used. It demanded it. And part of him answers in turn. And something in the world around him shifts in answer.Â
The next wave that approaches him is anything but metaphysical. No, it is a solid wall of water that seems to tower above him, hovering there in the air for several seemingly endless seconds, before it comes crashing down. Idristan has just enough time to throw up a shield with what lingered from that rush of magic, and yet even he is knocked off his feet by the rush of water.
When the chaos dies he finds himself kneeling in a shell of silver–which is likely the only thing that's spared him from the surrounding chaos kicked up by the rogue wave. Beach chairs, umbrellas, holiday decorations… all lay scattered.Â
For his part, Idristan started to rise–only to sink back down to his knees once more, a hand rising to press against his chest as he tries to regain his breath. For as it turned out, using his position to influence the tides wasn't an easy feat. Who would have guessed, really.
But there was still one thing he could do.
"Caedh," he calls out; not aloud, but echoing along the bond between their souls, uncaring about distance or realm. "How do you kill a fae prince?"
The answer he got back was not one to his liking: “Be prepared for what you leave void.”
The words caused him to bare his fangs in another snarl, even as salt water stung at his eyes. “And what if we just trap him in some deep, dark pit? He seems very fond of those.”
“That’s not going to be a long term fix, mo ghealach gaolach.”
Idristan shakes his head furiously. That wasn’t good enough. That couldn’t be good enough. “But he hurt you. That cannot stand!” Those words were said aloud, as if they were a challenge to the universe itself. And maybe it was, in a way.
It certainly was enough to drive him back up to his feet; for a few moments, at least. But then he crashes back down to the damp sand. Whatever revenge he was planning, it was clear that it wasn’t happening tonight.
The best he can do is vanish in a haze of stars and moondust, leaving naught but a ruined beach in his wake.
The sound of incredulous protest mingled with laughter rings out through the Grove as Idristan shakes his head.
“Look!” he insists, leaning forward a bit so that he can properly jab his finger at the book held before him. “Their limbs can’t go that way! Not unless they’re a... what’s it called... Those people you find at soirees and fairs?”
“A contortionist?” Caedh offers, a distinct look of amusement on his lips as he looks down at the white-haired man resting in his lap.
“Yes!” he declares. “Thank you.” Idristan flops back, his head falling to rest against Caedh’s chest. “And that’s not all. Where even are their arms in all this? Trapped underneath them?” He winces. “That just sounds painful. And that’s not even getting into how they keep describing the man in it and what he’s doing.”
Caedh hums softly at this. Idly he sticks one finger in the book, the better to hold their place, before flipping the book around so that they can see the cover properly once more. Done in very lurid colors, it shows a waif of a woman dressed in a slip of a gown as she presses up against the big, broad chest of a man dressed in a billowing white linen shirt (that just so happens to leave most of said chest bare). In other words, it was possibly the most stereotypical cheap romance novel cover ever.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with him? Unless you mean to tell me that you don’t like handsome muscular men?” From the way that Caedh’s lips quirk, it seems as if he might be on the verge of laughter at the very thought.
Idristan scoffs softly at this and rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffs at the other fae. “You know full well I do love a handsome, muscular man.” He reaches out as he does so, his fingers drifting along Caedh’s chest to emphasize the point. Granted, Caedh was more svelte than anything else, but it was the thought that counted, right? “No. It’s just... he has to have at least a ten ilm dick. If not more.”
That does it; the dam that had been holding in Caedh’s laughter finally breaks. His arms drape around the other man as he leans into him; Idristan can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back as the Night laughs. When he finally manages to get more control of himself, he leans forward, his lips brushing against Idristan’s ear as he says: “Then we’ll just have to test it, won’t we?”
Idristan’s heart skips a beat at this, warmth starting to pool in his core as the hand on Caedh’s chest starts to slide lower. “Indeed we shall,” he says, even as he gives him a look that smolders.
Needless to say, it’s not long before the book is cast aside, buried beneath a pile of clothes on the floor.
Characters: Idristan, mentions of Talia @reddevil-xiv​​ and Caedh @thedarknesssings​​
Idristan paces around the Grove, his feet coming down hard onto the soft grass. His teeth itch, his eyes lingering on the red bottle lingering on the stump that served as their table. Usually Talia kept that with her, but today it had been left out, presumably because the redheaded fae had left in a rush. And though the bottle is solidly sealed, he is sure that he can damn near smell the copper of the liquid inside of it, imagine the sweet tang it would have if it passed across his tongue.
The moon fae grits his teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides. No. No, he wasn’t supposed to. No, they weren’t supposed to. Wasn’t the whole reason why their husband had fled into Faerie was to wean himself off of the stuff? He would not give into temptation that easily.
Instead of reaching for the bottle of red, his fingers curl around one filled with fae wine, the drink sweet against his lips and cool as it slid it’s way down his throat. Ordinarily, there was naught better than such ambrosia. And yet, his eyes keep drifting back towards the other bottle, sitting there oh so innocently.
Finally he can take it no longer; turning on a heel, he flees into the deeper reaches of the Grove, where the trees grow tangled, blocking out the eternal night sky. And there he would remain until the other fae showed back up.
Characters: Idristan, mention of Talia @reddevil-xiv​​​ and Caedh @thedarknesssings​​​
The Grove was quiet.
Talia was gone, having left to handle her job in Seraphim's workshop; he knew that she likely wouldn't be back for awhile, especially since he had sent her off with food to tide her over. Caedh, meanwhile, was still off deeper in Faerie; he could sense him there, if he focused, but it was like peering through deep fog. For all practical purposes, it was just him today.Â
At least, if one did not count the sprites, and he did not, given that many of them seemed wrapped up in playing with Arnaud. He still had never quite figured out what they saw in teasing the cat that towered over them, but they seemed happy in their fashion.
Idristan watches the game of tag (or perhaps potential mauling, depending on how one looked at it) before he exhales a soft sigh and shakes his head a little. His eyes dip down to where his hands rested in his lap, where his fingers curled around a shining silver rose.
He had been working on creating it as he sat there, in the vain hope that having something to do with his hands would help calm the storm raging in his mind. It was, unfortunately, not enough; thoughts of their foe and how to hurt him, how to end him for good without binding his soul to Fian's court, all of those hovered about him like a lingering miasma. Though he had spent much of his rage the other day, it wasn’t gone. Not by a long shot.
He needed a better distraction. Or a better place to think.
Letting the rose drift down to rest upon the bed (for Talia would likely appreciate it), he rises to his feet and starts to wander one of the paths that twisted through their little pocket on the edge of Faerie, until they had taken him to one of the darker corners of the Grove.
A place to think. Somewhere he could create without worry. Well. He could certainly think of a place like that.
He would start with the pool that would reside in one corner, the gently flowing water acting as background while he moved onto the next step, then the next.
For making a small grove was not an easy thing, even if he had been practicing his magic over the last few moons. And there was so much to do.Â
But considering the size of the problem he was pondering, perhaps that was for the best.
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Characters: Idristan, mention of Caedh @thedarknesssings​ and Talia @reddevil-xiv​
Idristan exhales a soft sigh as he lays sprawled out on the plush couch that decorated one flowered-covered wall of the Grove, a hint of silver magic playing about his fingers. Caedh was off in Faerie, Talia working on some machine or other, and so he was left alone, save for the sprites and his own thoughts. And those seemed particularly inclined to wander lately.
His life had changed so much over the past few moons, so much so that he wasn’t sure that, if he told the version of him from a year or two ago what had transpired, that he would be believed. And to a degree that was more than understandable, for it was certainly fantastic. In more ways than one.
What would his life have been like right now, if he had never followed Caedh into the catacombs under the opera house? If he had never fought as hard as he had for him? If he had never trusted him, even when doing so was seen by everyone as foolish?
He certainly wouldn’t be here now, that’s for certain. There wouldn’t be the reminders of his spouses’ love all around him, from the stacks of trashy novels he and Caedh loved to devour, to the tea pot that Talia always saw was ready when he woke late in the morning. He wouldn’t feel the two of them in the back of his mind, always there if he needed them, and he in turn for them.
He wouldn’t be what he was now. That thought alone sends a shiver through him, for while the recent cravings for blood were troubling in their own right, they were naught compared to what he had once dealt with. Though the memories of the ravenous hunger he had once endured had started to fade with each day that passed, they would never truly fade.
It was terrifying in a way, to even consider it. Going back to how things once more. Losing all that he had come to hold so dear to his heart. And perhaps that is why, when he looks back on everything, he can genuinely say that he has no regrets about his choice.
There were certain things that Idristan did not ask about.
He never pries too deeply into Talia or Caedh’s pasts. Caedh’s, he knows, is soaked in ink and blood, with dozens if not hundreds of worlds drowned by the Raven’s hands. And while it was unfair to blame him for the actions of his inksoul, there was naught good that could come from opening up those wounds.
Talia, meanwhile, had outright told him that she wasn’t a good person. And so it was easier to not ask about where all the Garlean magitek had come from, or why she occasionally disappeared for several bells, a sniper rifle slung across her back. Such instances had all but faded over the past year, after all.
No, it was better for everyone if the past remained firmly in the past. Because he needed to believe that it would. That his spouses could be better than where they started.
Characters: Idristan, Caedh @thedarknesssings​, mention of Talan @reddevil-xiv​
He still remembers the night that he first met him. He doubts that he would ever be able to forget it, even if he wished to.Â
A smooth figure clad in black, confidently cutting through the crowd as if he owned the place. A charming smile, a silky voice, offering words that said both too much and too little at the same time.
It is no wonder that people stared--but those eyes, dark as the night itself, were for him and him alone. Is it any wonder, really, that he had been entranced?
It is any wonder that he still was?
His eyes linger upon the other man as he dozes beside him, even as he's careful not to wake him. He had been drawn in by that debonair figure, yes, but it was this one that he truly loved. The one beneath the suit and mask, beneath the vine tattoos that had once branded his skin.
He reaches out to trace the path where one of them had once been, finger lightly brushing against skin. But not lightly enough, for he soon feels black eyes resting upon him.
He flashes him a smile that might be borderline apologetic--before leaning down to claim his lips in a long, drawn out kiss.
"Good morning, my night and stars," he murmurs, even as he shifts, nuzzling up against his side, the motion causing the redhead resting on Caedh’s other side to stir, though none of them seemed particularly inclined to get up and get on with the day.
It wasn’t as if anyone would miss them until the evening, after all.
