angel on // F I R E *

WHEN: Directly after Plot Drop 01 events

STATUS: @sayf-insurgent x closed.

Seladon had sent The Vainglorious to clean up that mess and handle the anxious high fae elders; storming down the long glowing hallway of the palace, silent, simmering in her rage and betrayal, her grief and guilt; her skin was glowing with its intensity. She was silent the entire way there— the room she had suddenly been spending a lot of time in with Sayf lately; it didn’t have an official name, it was often simply called the map room or strategy room; a large chamber with maps and globes, atlases, chess and board pieces for strategizing etc. It was designed for strategy and war talks, private and classified political meetings and other things of the like.

It wasn’t until the door was shut, the enchantment falling into place that made the room sound proof— did she speak. Immediately she fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face, tears of anger not weakness— tears of betrayal and loss. “It’s all my fault,” she hadn’t wanted this— she had never wanted to be High King of all the realms. It’s what they had asked her to do, begged her with their eyes, demanded and forced her to with their smiles. Had she made a mistake with the execution? All things considered she still didn’t feel that way, she had been well within her rights and the law of the courts— the summer court has killed for much less. The face of the high fae elder was burned into her mind, making her tears flow even more, salting her cheeks with grief. And to think- her godfather had been so heartless as to murder someone innocent for arrogant revenge, so heartless as to murder an innocent right in front of her. Her stomach churned. Seladon wanted something different for Faerie, something not marked by such despicableness, she didn’t want anymore wars; anymore rebellions— this wasn’t the first time in fae history that the lower courts had tried (and failed) to get the high crown. The cycle needed to end.

Taking a deep shaking breath, she wiped her tears away quickly, sniffling as she tried to calm herself, her blood singing with passionate and violent emotions.

She felt the Insurgent and the Vainglorious lurch into angry action on either side of her, the council of high fae hissing at the situation unfolding. She said nothing. A slender hand rose to silence and freeze the movements of Sayf, knowing that the general probably had their hand already reaching for the hilt of their blade. (Seladon knew they would kill everyone in this room if the High King Queen so much as gave them the look.) Her golden eyes were a blaze of hot indifference, her mind surprisingly wasn’t swimming and swirling, she surprisingly wasn’t scared, wasn’t confused... she couldn’t even exactly say what she felt was anger either. It was something she had never felt before— betrayal. This new feeling sliced through her soul like a wicked knife, raining like bullets against the soft insides of her mind. How could one describe the feeling of betrayal? It wasn’t a crushing feeling, nor a hot or cold feeling— it felt like being ripped apart, yes, thats how Seladon would describe it— it was like her heart was being slowly torn, the hot red flesh splitting open grotesquely, crimson lifesblood splattering everywhere. Yes. That’s what it felt like. Like being torn open from the inside out.

The emotion flashed across her eyes as they narrowed, so this was how quickly it took for the Summer Court to turn their back on her. Perhaps the conspiracy theories of the high fae elders was true— perhaps the Summer Court really had had a hand in the death of the last high king, and the destruction of the crown. Seladon didn’t want to believe such a thing; but the timing of their actions, of Acacia’s actions were just too strange. Trying to spread dissent and rebellion twenty minutes after the crown’s destruction did not shine a very positive light on the Summer Court.

The Insurgent stilled next to her, the Vainglorious’ mouth gaping wide in a hungry smile on her other side, suddenly resembling a rabid wolf that had been starving for days; the blood pooling and spreading across the shining marble. This was a murder, not justice, and the fact that the Summer Court couldn’t tell the difference between a legal execution for treason, and vengeful murder— told her everything she needed to know about them. They could absolutely not be allowed on the high throne; she was suddenly sure of it. The resolve taking hold in her chest, and somehow it was like a soothing balm to her erratic heart. The only thing she was sure of in this new and strange time. Their disease of hypocrisy and violence could not be allowed to spread to all the realms.

Guilt crept into her chest as she stared at the macabre in front of her, though she made sure she did not shake, did not show any emotion, just a blank face. She was burning this moment into her memory, burning the face of the dead into her mind, she wouldn’t let this go now.

She was shocked, angry, but mostly she felt betrayed, far from her body, her fond and happy memories of the Summer Court suddenly warping into nightmarish monstrosities in her mind. How could she be so blind? She knew they had always been like this, secretly; and now the elder is dead because she had underestimated them and trusted them.

Seladon wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

IT WAS FAR TOO LATE to try and ignore him. He had already seen her, dark eyes flashing with something indescribable, sauntering gracefully towards her like a predator; all the fiercesomeness of a wolf. Mentally sighing, bracing herself, the clank of black armour vibrating through her skull as her personal guards cautiously stepped forward. Of course of all the people they were going to be skittish around, it would no doubt be the Summer General himself.

Her chest tightened, and suddenly she wished she had drowned herself in faerie wine, that way it would be much easier for her to pretend she was somewhere else, a different time, a different world. The high fae’s quick eyes weren’t lost on the placement of his hand, glancing from his sword to his face; is that how he felt then?

“Of course, Cassian.” Her response was monotone, countenance suddenly guarded and impassive. Golden eyes taking in the sight of him, their brief meeting days ago when he had first arrived with the Summer Court suddenly felt like another lifetime. She had no idea what to expect from him, but Seladon had no intention of trying to think it out or predict it for herself; Cassian was much too unpredictable, and it honestly gave her a touch of anxiety, chilling uncertainty, for some unknown reason. With a raised hand she motioned for the guards to be at ease, and like clockwork, the pair of dark knights lowered snapped into attention, weapons lowered, stepping back as they disappeared into the shadows. The queen wondered if she would ever get used to this.

Once she was sure they were mostly alone, (the revel was packed, fae jostling against each other, running around in a frenzy...so they were as alone as they could be; though there is a special sort of privacy only available during such large parties) did she allow herself to show even a needle prick of emotion. “Whatever you have to say about today, say it and be done.”

“Why? Jealous?” Her brims tilted into a wicked smile, glancing down at her blood-soaked torso, arms shining pearlescent crimson; it was strange— she didn’t mind blood like this- at a revel; when it was given freely and consensually, not torn from the body in violence. In truth she had gotten caught with some weird group of summer fae doing some weird blood orgy; her mind too foggy with wine to remember the details— she just remembered them all covered in red, devouring each other with lustful gaping maws, trying to pull her in with saturated hands. So in truth, she had no idea who’s it was or where it came from, everything was a whimsical blur; a carousel of madness that was spinning quickly out of control.

But she was in the Summer Kingdom, barely forty-seven; at some revel, she couldn’t remember exactly what is for at the moment, what they were celebrating, but it also didn’t exactly seem to matter much to the high fae, her golden eyes had locked a little too deeply on the fae in front of her, his features distorted seductively behind the enchantment of fae wine. Heavy-lidded, heavy-headed, she lurched forward and enthusiasticly drunkenly flung her slick wet arms around his form, pressing her cheek firmly against his.

Though her tone was sickeningly sweet (Aurelia had a habit of having a voice as smooth as honey but as venomous as a cobra); the words that spilled from her brims did nothing more but burn Seladon. But perhaps not in the way the summer fae was hoping. “Do the summer fae usually disrespect and undermine those they supposedly care about, Aurelia? I wasn’t aware of such a tradition.”

Her tone was ladden with her frustrations, her patience thinning rapidly more and more.

At this point she was just throwing out ideas, anything was possible, there was so little clues, so little they knew, in fact, they knew almost nothing for certain about any of this. The High Council had no answers for her or for anyone else. They were stumbling forward into the dark; blind and confused. She led the winter fae towards one of the many intersecting paths, worn with age, the newfound silence pressing in on them. Aster’s words were enticing, though she wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, she was feeling lost, it wasn’t even being forced into a position you didn’t want- it wasn’t easy trying to be queen of a weakened and hated court. Her family. the High Fae, had charged her with a near impossible task. And deep down she knew, they were asking her to die and suffer for them. 

But she mustn’t make a mistake, must watch how easily she trusts, a fatal flaw of hers. Whatever Aster had to offer, Seladon knew would come with a price; as everything in Fae did, nothing here was ever truly free. “I’m eager to hear it then, though I must admit-- I’m surprised the winter court hasn’t voiced any feelings of rebellion...” Was it okay to bring such a thing up so openly and freely? In truth Seladon didn’t mind giving the lesser courts more freedom, mending the bitterness between them all, listening to them, giving them more respect and equality; but she could not allow herself to be weak in outright treason and disrespect.  “It is okay to tell me you are unhappy with the High fae. I say so truly.” The soft edges of her voiced bounced off the moist and glistening cave walls, the path leading them down a much more narrow tunnel.

“It seems whoever doomed Cedric might be intent on doing the same to me.” She said breathlessly, a sharp pang of frustration stabbing into her heart, tearing at her insides like a jagged piece of glass, catching on her soft flesh and cutting it to ribbons. Seladon glanced again at the winter fae that had stepped up by her side, icy touch pulling away, the warmth flooding back to the High Queen’s shoulder. Being queen is about more than a crown. Those words echoed in her head, golden-lavender eyes looking out into the darkness, barely illuminated by glowing whisps that often rested on the ceilings of the catacombs. They were guides, or had been in the past; will-o-the-wisps (aka ghost lights) is what the humans called them in their world, glowing dazzling creatures, like living stars you can keep in your back pocket. But now they just clustered together on the ceilings, blinking and twinkling at the pair of fae below . The Catacombs were a maze of caves and tunnels, and for now the two of them stood near one of the many entrances into the cavernous space.

“Opportunity?” Seladon’s gaze snapped back to Aster, black brow raised curiously. What could the Winter Queen possibly be talking about? She didn’t know much of the Winter Court and their politics, she had only met Aster once or twice when she was still a lowly scholar trying to get onto the High Council— but; she had to remind herself— I’m the High Queen, so of course it makes sense she would want to see me.

“Well, I am open to listening to whatever you have to say, your highness, and probably against my better judgement I’m here alone with you; so you’re right— of course you should use this to your advantage.” Her lips curved into a somewhat teasing smile, only a whisper of mirth in her eyes, still unsure of how much friendliness was or wasn’t appropriate for her new station— she new for one she probably shouldn’t be alone with anyone not of the High Court right now. But Seladon was confident that this wasn’t an encounter she needed to worry about.

Where: the sun theater

Status: for @xsafie​

Seladon couldn’t remember how long she had been laying there, in the water of the sun theater pond, staring up at the galaxies above. Her thoughts unfurled slowly at first, then all at once, a wicked blossom of intricacies. She was too numb, too shocked to cry. After the coronation, after the execution, she had been whisked away to get cleaned off and changed into a different outfit for her appointment at the black citadel, and following festivities. Silent, Yuliya had peeled her out of her clothes, cleaned the blood, anointing oils, and makeup from her void countenance. 

“Your majesty, what an honor,” Aurelia replied, her surprise hidden behind a veil of practiced calmness. She could feel her rage boiling up inside. Her fury screamed for retribution, calling for the ruler’s head on a spike. A sentiment she suspected many of her court shared based on the volume of wine consumed already. Nonetheless, the tale of Acacia would be immortalized even if she had to preserve the elder’s story herself. “I imagine this is only one of your many stops for the night,” she said evenly, raising a hand to alert a human to bring her and Seladon wine. Conversations with Seladon tended to go easier when she had something to distract herself with. 

Most fae struck as a warning, a reminder they were feral as they were beautiful; however Aurelia preferred a collected smile. She liked to leave her peers on their toes. 

There was a new energy when she looked at Seladon, the fae who whose home was once the Summer Court.  Seladon had potential, as expected from a fae under the tutelage of the Summer King. That was the thing about Seladon though; on paper she had everything needed to be a threat, but she had lacked the needed viciousness. Or maybe Aurelia had dismissed the young fae too soon as the coronation proved otherwise. 

Was she brave or foolish? Surely, the elders would had advised against attending their revel. Or did Seladon come in hopes of doing damage control? Even the magic she and Isali weaved for the night wasn’t enough for Aurelia to let her guard down. “Shall I fetch Mattaeus for you? Or are you here for me?” she said with an artful smile, offering Seladon a chalice filled with her favorite summer wine. A Master of Revels should be prepared for all outcomes after all. 

“I actually wanted to see you.” Her tone was even, impassive, guarded. She would be a fool not to feel the tension mounting between them, feel the scathing burn of anger behind the summer fae’s gaze. “You’re Mattaeus’ advisor after all, so I figured you would be the best to go to for some advice.” She reluctantly took the offered faerie wine, her golden eyes glancing down to look at the swirling glittering drink, frothing and bubbling seductively in the cup; its aroma tempting and inviting. But Seladon needed to be a bit more on the clear-headed side for the night- like Aurelia had mentioned, she had many other stops and visits to make before the night was over. 

The high fae looked the other over, golden irises bright with a new resolve, a new sort of determination. “And I also hoped you would be brutally honest.” Nothing she said was a lie- she did want to pick Aurelia’s brain for a bit; for a multitude of reasons. 

WHERE: the black citadel

STATUS: closed for @astrcphilia

SHE HAD TO FORCE HERSELF NOT TO CRY. During the short travel from the palace to the tower; her eyes burned and seethed, begging for release. But she refused, queens didn’t cry in front of anyone. And she wouldn’t be alone again for a long string of hours. She had to meet with the royal astrologer, getting an astrology reading as was tradition when a new monarch ascended. And then after that she had a long list of revels she had to make an appearance at. Her stomach tightened, but she inhaled deeply, clutched tightly to her new dress; having washed the blood off her face and changed into something more convienent than her incredibly large and heavy coronation dress. The entire thing had been made almost entirely of pure gold.

At the citadel, her guards were forced to wait outside at the entrance— no weapons were allowed inside, the tower had always been a place of peace and learning. Seladon was actually a bit excited to be here, as she glanced up at the impressive tower that seemed to endlessly climb up the sky, the very top of the tower was a large glass dome— no doubt to allow the astrologers and scholars to get a full view of the stars. This would be her first time ever passing this threshold- entering this ancient and historic place.

This was one of the rare occasions someone other than a royal scholar would be allowed inside.

“Virgil, you managed to get here before me I see.” She offered a small, but strained smile, still a bit rattled from the days events. He had been quiet that morning in the throne room, all the other high elders and council members had plenty to say, but he had offered no counsel. What does he think? Why didn’t he say anything?

She found herself wanting him to like her, he was unreadable, but unquestionably wise; and she couldn’t shake her growing curiosity.