#sithiche

≈ punch-drunk kiss ≈

My touch is black and poisonous, and nothing like my punch-drunk kiss. I know you need it, do you feel it? Drink the water, drink the wine.

In the wake of the disaster that was Sophia’s wedding to the Vampire King, Sorcha’s life had gone from peaceful to chaotic overnight. All her siblings were safe and sound, thankfully. No major injuries had been reported among the Fair Folk who attended, and no deaths thankfully. But the uproar had been sufficient to raise concerns about the Faerie Court’s alliance with the vampires, and for once Sorcha had been forced to do the job she’d been sent to Acrine to do: represent her people and their concerns. It wasn’t hard—sporting bandages on her arm as a reminder of the wedding, the red-headed fae had gotten to chew out the council and demand accountability for the human crown’s foolishness. They’d endangered more than just their own people, and Sorcha was more than happy to defend the faeries who had been wronged.

And oh, did the council get an earful. Wind buffeted the council chambers as Sorcha had unleashed her fury on them, while not a one of the humans present had been able to meet her eye. Only the werewolves had dared to stand up against her, filling the chambers with shouting for hours. It had been incredibly cathartic.

Unfortunately, this had left her no time to pay attention to goings on back home. She knew Ailsa and Kirk were fine, and Aiden, too. But that was all she’d been able to glean, and she’d certainly had no time to go back and visit. Perhaps she should have been suspicious at the silence from her parents. Normally, an event such as the one of a few days prior would have had the Duchess in an absolute state, a true tizzy which would make life for her children more than a little difficult. It would, usually, be marked by increased restrictions on Sorcha and the twins so as to ensure their safety, and an increase in fights between Moira and her second eldest. But all was quiet. Sorcha was being left to her own devices. Everyone was too preoccupied with the reality that war had overtaken Candoris. It was... unusual, but welcome.

So when a letter penned in her mother’s neat, spindly handwriting arrived in front of her at breakfast on the morning of her 98th birthday, Sorcha was in a fine enough mood to open it without apprehension. What she was not prepared to do was choke on her muffin in surprise at the contents of the letter.

      Sorcha,           Your father and I are relieved to hear you are safe and sound after the ghastly business at the Night Court. More importantly, that you went out of your way to defend the new Queen of the Night Court in such a gallant display. Our friends within the High Court tell us your actions did not go unnoticed, nor have your efforts to protect our people’s interests in Acrine. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you are finally coming into your own. I love you dearly, my child, but you must admit, you have been most willful in the past, and I worried that you would always remain thus. But you’ve proven to me and to our beloved Queen that you are growing and learning responsibility that I, unfortunately, was not able to teach you myself. However you are coming by it, I am not put out that it did not come from me. I am merely thankful that you are, at long last, proving your responsibility and your devotion to the Fair Folk. It gives me great hope for your future.           It is with great pride, then, that I write to inform you of a most exciting development. As of today, you are a mere two years away the end of your first century. Such a momentous occasion will, as per tradition, be celebrated in grandeur befitting your status. However, there is one final hurdle you must jump before that grand one hundredth birthday, and which I know now that you are undoubtedly ready to take on.           It has become a matter of discussion in the Court whether or not you shall ever be married. After our previous attempts to see you properly settled down, many of our friends and acquaintances came to believe that you would never fulfill your duties to your family and court as was expected. You know that this has been the source of no small amount of shame for me, and of sorrow. Whatever your inclinations in a partner or your own presentation to the world, I expected you to honor my wishes and put the needs of your family first. But having seen your growth and progress over the last several months, and particularly a few days ago, I know you are at last ready to wed and bring honor to the Mac Alistair name.           After much discussion, I have arranged a thrilling match for you. Lord Dorian de Clare, our beloved Lord of the Autumn Court, has finally chosen to take a spouse and has found you agreeable to the task. We are still arranging the details of the wedding date, which are made all the more difficult by this foolish war the humans and vampires have pushed us all into. But that is a small matter to which I will attend. Meanwhile, you, my dear, will carry on in your duties to our Queen and our people. Once you are wed, that will be a matter for you and your lord husband to discuss and decide upon, but I believe you will find him agreeable to such discussion.           I hope that this news will bring you joy, and that I am not wrong in my belief that you’ve matured enough to see what a blessing this is for your family, you included. It has been centuries since a Mac Alistair ruled in Autumn, and this marriage will help provide the Courts with some much needed security. I remember well how one of your many complaints against marriage was your belief that it would shackle you to a life you did not want, and take your freedom to live as you please. Becoming the Lady (or Laird I suppose, as you have chose to title yourself) of Autumn would allow you infinitely more freedoms than the proposed arrangements of the past, while still enabling you to help our people to the best of your many abilities. This is for the best, mo laochain, and I’m sure you will agree with me. If not, I hope at least that you will come to see it as such in the future.           Stay safe, Sorcha a bhobain. I pray we will see you at home soon, whenever your duties to the council allow you a reprieve. And of course, là breith sona dhuit. May your 98th year be a happy one.                    Your mother,                           Moira

Sorcha stared at the parchment for many minutes, crumbs of muffin falling from her gaping mouth to her lap. This was a joke, surely. All the times Moira had tried to sell Sorcha off before, she’d at least had the decency to bring the sorry bastard home to meet with her child first. She wouldn’t say anything beforehand, of course, always letting it be a nasty surprise for Sorcha to stumble upon and sort out on the spot. But that had been Moira’s way of giving Sorcha at least a little say in the matches she tried to make. But this time, she’d been afforded no such courtesy. This time, the duchess had gone so thoroughly behind Sorcha’s back that there was no way to undo this without causing public embarrassment to many important people.

And the timing was suspicious. This wasn’t the sort of arrangement that could be made over the course of a few days, not with Sorcha’s reputation. One public act of chivalry wouldn’t be enough to entice anyone to marry someone as notoriously flighty and obstinate as Sorcha, least of all the Lord of Autumn. And really? Just doing her job as a Council Representative had suddenly changed her mother’s mind, made her believe Sorcha would be open to an arranged marriage? No, not in a million years. This had been in the works for some time, Sorcha could tell. The wedding had just provided the perfect excuse to finally unveil Moira’s plan. There was no way Sorcha could fight it, not without appearing disloyal to the Autumn Court, the High Court, and all of her people. This was a match that would strengthen the Faerie Court in a much needed way, and if she turned it down, it would be tantamount to committing treason.

Worst of all, a treacherous part of her mind was intrigued. Her mother was right: becoming a High Laird of Autumn would give her a great deal of freedom. The added responsibility of ruling a seasonal court would be great, but so would the power she would wield over herself. And she’d heard stories about Lord Dorian. It was true, of all the nobles she could be forced to marry, he seemed the least likely to impose antiquated restrictions on her. But there was still the matter of losing so much of her own autonomy in a marriage, of giving up her name, her dreams, her pastimes, being expected to... to have children. Sorcha shuddered. That in particular was not something she relished the thought of, particularly with someone she didn’t know.

She needed to talk to someone about this. Maybe there was still a way out of this ridiculous arrangement without causing shame and dishonor to multiple people. She needed... she needed to talk to Aerith. Aerith of all people would know her situation, would know what to say. She’d have ideas and advice. With a spiteful sneer, Sorcha bunched her mother’s letter up in her fist like a rag and shoved it in her pocket. This wasn’t over by a long shot. There was still hope for her. A date had not yet been set for the wedding, so she had time to find a loophole. And plenty of time to take a break to fly home and give her mother a piece of her mind. A piece so big, she might choke on it.

“Regrets? Me?” They laugh. “Actually, a few, but nothing big. I regret not being even more of a pain towards my mother, since I hear she’s planning to try and tie me down to someone again. I really do love her but... north wind’s frigid tits, she’s a nosy bitch. Can’t let anyone just live their lives, she can’t. And I regret not being there more for Aiden—I was so caught up in my own shit I didn’t even notice he was struggling. And I’m worried it’s too late now. I regret a few of my past lovers, like James. But whatever, I just keep moving forward, y’know? I’ve got eternity ahead of me to regret more things and forget them.”

≈ SORCHA MAC ALISTAIR ≈ — Task #3: Mischief Managed

WAND

Cedar “Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.”

Unicorn Hair “Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may 'die' and need replacing.”

12 ¼ in. Long “Most wands range from 9 to 14 inches, and those in between 10.5 and 12.5 inches are considered averagely sized. In contrast to what many think, owning a wand with average length does not mean the wizard or witch have average powers and would never triumph in life. Most accomplished figures in history of magic were paired to averagely sized wands. It is because these wands usually seek owners who control their instincts and calculate their acts, which makes them use their magic in appropriate ways.”

Unbending Flexibility “The wands described as hard, rigid, solid, stiff, unbending, and unyielding, are regarded as 'rigid wands'. Most wizards and witches who use magic in a more traditional way and are rigorous when taking decisions are chosen by these wands. ... The owner of an unbending wand is usually a selective wizard or witch. In many cases, the best wands for duels present unbending or unyielding rigidity.”

HOGWARTS HOUSE

Ravenclaw — intelligent, wise, sharp, witty, individual

Individualism might as well be Sorcha’s middle name. She’s fiercely independent and protective of her freedom, no matter what anyone thinks. She’s faced backlash for this, mostly from her mother, but that doesn’t stop her from sticking to her guns and being no one other than who she is at her core. Some people write her off as a reckless fool, but she’s always happy to prove just how intelligent she is while also making them wish they’d never opened their mouths. Like many Ravenclaws, Sorcha can definitely have a very high opinion of herself and her brains, but she’s worked hard all her life to prove she has the skills and smarts to back up all her talk, so generally she doesn’t embarrass herself too much. Even when she does, it tends to roll off her back—what’s the point in being bogged down by insecurity when there are people to meet, places to see, adventures to be had, and wonders to be discovered? Her curiosity about the world drives her daily, and although many wouldn’t consider her particularly wise, there’s no doubt that she belongs in the wisest of the four houses.

PATRONUS

Eagle

“Eagles are one of the largest birds of prey in the world. They have large beaks, muscular legs, and powerful talons. In addition, they have extremely large pupils, which means that they have fantastic eyesight. Having an eagle for a Patronus will protect you from any harm Dementors may attempt.”

The best Patronus for Sorcha was always going to be some kind of bird, give their affinity for air. But while some people might think they’d have something flashy like a peacock, a large and formidable bird of prey like the eagle is truest to their personality. And not just because they happen to be a Ravenclaw. Sorcha is a fierce protector of those they care about the most, and would do quite literally anything at all to defend their loved ones. They are a dangerous fae to have as an enemy, as anyone who knows them can attest—anyone who goes on excursions into the Wilde Wood to wrestle bears is not someone you want to piss off. Like the eagle, they’re known to be gregarious and a talented hunter. And, of course, eagles are among the largest birds of prey in the world, much like how Sorcha is quite tall compared to most people.

OTHER

Ilvermorny House — Wampus “Wampuses are defined by their actions, by what they say, and by how they express themselves. They are experimenters, designers, architects, and servants; they lead by example, learn by doing, speak their minds, and live their truths. Wampuses are the central actors of their world, and their every action is deliberate, intentional, and representative of what they most value.”

“Yeh're damn reit Ah woods, ye funay wee bodie!”

Sorcha: Yes.

Laurent: Okay. Can I make fun of *you*?

Melanie: I’d rather you didn’t.