#heatstroked

Lady Midday laughed high and clear, an arpeggiated, crystalline sound like the melodic twinkling of glass. It was a grace peculiar to her kind: the fae were understood to be highly musical and exquisitely artful, and nearly every movement, every sound, every smile emanated with a particular charm. 

She was no exception to it. He’d noted her at every solstice, every equinox for the past eon. Sometimes she’d caught him staring, to which he would raise his glass of rose wine in toast of her health. Most often, she did not. Her elder brother, the prince of the Midday Court, was often quite literally draping himself across her shoulders, driving away any potential suitors with the nameless threats sharp in his eyes.

Not that it was particularly easy to approach, with or without her guard dog. She was the personification of sunstroke, and those in her vicinity were susceptible to inordinate amounts of radiating heat, and those that did dare a dance were distinguished by the crimson weals left behind at the simplest touch of her hand. 

She was dangerous. But not for an ifrit.

It was only a matter of time before the Sun Prince was off in chase of his star-dusted lover, the indelibly-painted Sindri. Like clockwork, and he was gone. And tonight was the night he would finally make his approach.

Like gold dust, he thought to himself as he neared, carrying two goblets of honeyed cream. The drink of course did nothing for him, but he knew how it would affect a fae. “Am I wrong or have I not yet seen you dance tonight?” he asked, offering her one of the frothy potables. “We’ll have to remedy that.” 

There is no reply for a moment, just a deep angry sigh as Mathieu presses his hands together.

When it came to taking down a organization that had installed a cult following among almost all its members, finding allies to destroy it from within was impossible. Mathieu had tried, tried to bring his lover to his side. He told Maria the truth of the Dark Brotherhood’s cruelty, had shown her the proof of it. She...did not react well to it, said the Dark Brotherhood was her family- called him mad for what he had shown her. For killing off their own in secrecy. Instead of finding an ally for his cause, he simply ended up killing a lover- something that weighed greatly on his conscience, as much as he tried to ignore it.

Still he had come to the conclusion that if he wished to destroy the Dark Brotherhood, he could not do it alone. And since he could not find someone within the Dark Brotherhood itself to help him...he would need to get outside help. Either someone who would find nobility in his cause- for who wouldn’t want the Dark Brotherhood destroyed? After all it is not as if the Empire would be toppled by their lost. Not like Morrowind, who operated upon legal murder from the Morag Tong. Or perhaps someone who simply enjoyed chaos, destruction.

Mathieu could not just select anyone either- he didn’t need someone who would trust him, but he needed someone who would be an easy target to pick off once everything was said and done. He couldn’t leave a witness to all he had done alive, even if they swore they would never say a thing. The only thing that would make this perfect was if everything would go off without a hitch, was to make sure all loose ends were tied up. That included all evidence of what he was doing- what he was planning to do. And what better way to do that than to burn it all away? A mage would be a good choice- they were powerful in magic yes- some powerful enough to kill him in one spell, but they could do nothing if the knife was buried in their throat before they managed to form one. Most of them were weak to- physically at least. Mathieu was twiggy himself, but if he picked the right mage, he could over power them with ease.

So he waited silently outside one of the mage’s guilds, examining every mage that entered and every mage that left. So far none of them had caught his interest, none of them captured what he was looking for. There was an Altmer, and Altmer were always powerful beings with magic, but even then he had towered over Mathieu. Mathieu was close to moving on-to moving to the next town and checking the mage’s guild there, until she came out. A young mage girl, one whose appearance took his breath away and made his chest painfully tight. His skin paled and he looked too much like he had seen a ghost.

She looked too much like Maria- why did she look like Maria? Of all those who had to come back to haunt him why did it have to be her? He knew this mage and Maria were two completely separate entities- even if by some miracle she had survived him strangling her, she would not have survived him dismembering her. Nor could some sick necromancer have brought her back to life, there wasn’t a body to bring back, not after he dissolved it all in acid, not even a bone was left. Not even a hair.

The oc struggle.... It's the worst when u send someone a plot idea or IM and they ignore it I SHRIVEL LMAO

@heatstroked​

The realm of daydreaming wasn't so much a realm as it was a presence of something more on the mundane world. A fae of lesser renown than Kimon-- Kimon's baby brother to be exact-- ruled over that dominion, and saw fit to ward Kimon away this day with his she'll-probably-try-to-kill-you-again-kimmy!'s and his but-you're-not-protected-on-this-plane-kimmy!'s and Kimon's personal favorite, don't-you-remember-what-happened-last-time?

Fortunately, the risk of being sizzled alive was really just more of an incentive. He’d always had something of a proclivity for the thrill of the pursuit. Kimon appeared in a swirling tempest of golden sand that glittered and sparkled in the harsh sunlight as it ran around him like fish darting through the air. The display dissipated in a theatrical, sparkling flash that left Kimon standing there before her, arms out at his sides among the wheat and sweltering sun in his most calculated pose of self presentation.

He waited for his due acknowledgement, practically baking in his velvet suit, as a silence stretched between them. Nitsa's gaze remained distant and undisturbed by his sudden appearance. She said nothing. Well, that was fine. It was easy for daydreamers to miss something spectacular the first time around. How very lucky she was then, that Kimon possessed such a consistent alacrity for putting himself on display.

Kimon summoned another twirling flash of sand for her sake, as he, again, struck his pose.

"Daydreaming on such a lovely day," he began by way of announcing himself, voice high and lofty with self-glorification, "it's like you're practically aiming to summon me. Don't worry, I'll spare you the tedium of going through the actual summoning process, I am here." He gestured to himself boldly with a sweep of his arms. "I have arrived."