#ir. thread

a voice echoed in her head as the world around them descended into chaos, the same warm one that whispered jests to her and told her to rise once more during training. find me, iona. the order had been from both her general and her protector when it was first spoken a few years ago, when war was at their door and koray could no longer shield her from the fight. brown eyes frantically search around the room, finding wings that she would recognize in complete darkness. there is a whisper within her mind when iona gazes upon him, as if something near otherworldly is attempting to grab her attention. she needs you. something ethereal whispers. in a voice she cannot place. a tongue she cannot name. her body changes course, as if it is not her own to lead. and in the midst of the attack, iona sees the aerial soldier bearing down towards izara, eyes tracking the path of his swing as she was taught. without a second thought, iona is vaulting herself towards the man, unsheathing her blade as she leaps. a swift downward swing forces the soldier to take steps back, the woman landing on two feet in front of her friend. ignores the way her stomach settled at the sight of her. “ are you alright?” the words come out rushed, sparing izara a glance before she prepares to block another attack. body a barrier between the fae and those who wished to attack her. “ we should move, before they overwhelm us.” baring her teeth at the soldier as he began to charge for them once more.

it was a careless mistake. iona had not been paying attention when turning a corner in the maze of hallways and caught herself on a statue, knocking it off it's platform. hands had scrambled to successfully catch it before the stone could shatter, but it'd made a casualty of her tunic - leaving a jagged tear within the fabric. with the little that she packed for this trip, iona couldn't afford to not have this tunic till they returned home. and the idea of showing up anywhere in it was entirely out of the question. her ears had overheard the gossip that the winter court had brought their seamstress with them, had perked up immediately with this new mission heavy on her mind. stood now before the room they'd said catrin was staying. iona hesitated for only a moment before stepping through the doorway, clearing her throat to announce her entrance. " excuse me, lady catrin? i heard you know how to sew," she speaks, half step closer to the mortal turned fae. a polite smile on her lips. " i have some silver, if you'd be willing to mend something for me."