glitter & gold.

He watched her move through dining room, gliding through on a warm summer’s breeze. Sorrel smiled to himself, his eyes weren’t the only ones in the room on her. Zinnia really was beautiful, especially now that she actually knew how to dress herself. The Zinnia of today was infinitely more delightful than the freshly escaped Unseelie that had first joined his Court. Sorrel glimpsed at his Ulysse Nardin watch. Zinnia arrived fashionably late. He had taught her well. Sorrel stood to his feet when Zinnia arrived. His lips grazed across her cheekbones, he felt the warmth of her skin. He squeezed the curve of her waist gently with one hand. “Hey, you.” Sorrel breathed into her ear. He pulled his smile wide. “And yet, you never fail to compliment me on it. Zin darling, this is why I love you.” His charm was over the top, an exaggeration of his already flamboyant personality. He couldn’t help but put on this show of bright feathers for his friends benefit. Sorrel sipped at his wine and made eye contact with the waiter in the corner who began weaving their way towards the table. “You look positively ravishing tonight, did you do your hair?” Sorrel was eager to talk. He felt so at ease with Zinnia. “What do you want to drink? This reisling is fantastic, try it…” Sorrel offered his glass.  “I’m really happy to see you Z. It’s been too long, why don’t we do this more often?” Sorrel looked into Zinnia’s eyes, they sparkled in the candlelight. Sorrel could see his reflection perfectly. Sorrel had been trying to keep his head down recently, there was something very strange in the air and he had enough of getting in trouble. In truth Sorrel was still shaken by what happened in the arboretum. But he needed to blow off steam. Sorrel had a long night of debauchery and decadence planned, Zinnia was the perfect companion. She was eager for adventure, she had never once said no to Sorrel’s hastily put together plans of greatness. 

“Is that the only reason why you love me? Because I constantly give you compliments?” she asked with a pout, feigning hurt. Or was she really feigning? It felt like there was some truth to it, if she was going to dig very deep and admit it to herself. The heady scent of him sent her mind wandering into places she often visited in her dreams and fantasies, in the moments when she felt more hopeful than usual, sure that if she stays by his side long enough, he would finally glance in her direction and realize she is the perfect woman for him. For now, she’s letting him play his games, enjoy his freedom, and run along chasing after countless women, and Zinnia does the same, looking for other toys to play with until it was time Sorrel finally grew up and they could finally get married. Patience, she told herself. Even when she found it incredibly difficult, her love helped her endure. “I washed it for tonight, even styled it. I mean, I always style it because I have to look good, but tonight it’s extra special. Won’t you agree?” she asked, one hand reaching up to touch her wavy locks, soft and bouncing with life. “You know I trust your taste in drinks, so I’ll have what you’re having,” she answered, taking the glass from his hands, and taking a sip. “Wonderful.”  She settled comfortably into her seat, warmth and sunshine radiating from her, and no one could deny the happiness that made her eyes sparkle. “It has been too long! I haven’t heard from you in a while, I really missed you, you know. Don’t ever disappear like that again. I was so worried.”  All her words were spoken with the concern of a best friend, but she was well aware of the ache and the longing in her heart, the one that always begged the universe to make him love her back. Until it happens, Zinnia would wait. She has the luxury of time. If she plays her cards well, that is. 

“Wow, I can’t even say how much I appreciate that, because I don’t and it would be a lie.” He wasn’t remotely surprised by the fact that she wanted to be ‘queen’ and make all the rules. Zinnia gave off that kind of air, a need to show off, to be in charge, to have all eyes on her. Being ‘queen’ would put her in the position she adored more than anything. 

“So would you choose who you actually think is best or would you just choose whoever you want?” Forest smirked, “Somehow I feel like that’s not how the queen is supposed to behave.” 

“I think I’d choose who I think is best which could also mean it would be whoever I want,” she answered with a shrug. “I’ll be the queen, no one could question my decisions,” at least, for Lugnasad. It wasn’t likely to happen that she become an actual queen, which is a relief, because her reign might be very short, bearing all these ideologies. “I wouldn’t care if everyone thought this one girl should win, I would choose the person I want to choose,” she said, providing a hypothetical.  “You sound judgmental. But you know I don’t care anyway, don’t you?” 

September 15. PM / Eli’s Table / @zinnia-fairwind·

“baby z i miss u. meet at elis, 9pm? my treat x”

Sorrel hadn’t seen his best friend since Lugnasad and that was too long. There was something in the way she smiled up at him, the warmth she exuded when they were together. Zinnia made Sorrel feel good, like she truly cared about his happiness. A night out with her was just what he needed. After a moments pause Sorrel sent another text. “wear something sexy. new nightclub I want to check out after. G might be there.” He enjoyed a long shower. He washed his hair, he shaved, he flossed, he trimmed his nails. There was hardly any need to use his glamour when he genuinely looked this good. But just a little, always just a little. He had to be luminous. Sorrel dressed in a suit of silk the precise shade of blue of a robin’s egg. The compliments would surely come pouring in for Sorrel tonight. He would drink it up like the sweetest nectar.

He made it to the restaurant with time to spare. Time to choose the seat with the most flattering lighting, time to order a glass of wine. Sorrel moved as if he was on camera, draping his frame across his chair, sipping his wine and surveying the dining room. His eyes kept flickering back to the door, waiting. Sorrel had no reason to doubt Zinnia would drop any and all plans she may have made for the night in order to spend it with him.

The smile that spread across Zinnia’s mouth made her face glow bright with the apparent happiness that only a message from Sorrel (or Garnet, for that matter) could give her. Her best friend in the world, just as fun as her, just as wild, just as full of energy. She used to think him so unattainable, a god among the fey, the most beautiful man she has ever seen, without a doubt. This has all blinded her from the truth of who Sorrel is, just how much her love is wasted on a man who might never love her back. Zinnia is impatient about many things, but, as it seems, she isn’t when it comes to Sorrel. She eagerly replied, manicured nails tapping against the screen of her phone.  i miss you too!!! where tf have u been? see u later u fool She almost jumped up and down with glee. She was going to do some shopping alone later, which compared to the prospect of dinner with Sorrel, now seemed incredibly lackluster. Her phone dinged again, and she read the next message. Wear something sexy. Zinnia scoffed, smirking. She’d already planned on doing that. ofc. it’s like u don’t know me, boo i always wear something sexy She threw the phone down on her bed, and twirled around happily. had about 3 hours before 9 pm, but she was already rushing around to prepare. It was the first time, in a very long while, that Sorrel had asked her out. Could this be...? She shook her head. Shouldn’t get her hopes up. But somehow, she couldn’t help it.  Zinnia arrived at around 9:10 pm, wearing a navy bardot foldover wrap dress and her signature bright smile. She felt she was wearing something dignified enough for dinner, but also sexy enough for their plans later. “Hey, you!” she greeted him, walking over in that confident way she walks, her heart thumping in her chest at the sight of him after not seeing him for a while. The happiness within made her glow, making her skin warm and coloring her cheeks. She reached the table and went over to place a kiss on his cheek, contact between succeeding, once again, to make her blood sing. “You look good, as always.” 

Many Lugnasads ago. Something about her tone pricked something inside of Willow, tripping an instinct of sorts. When Zinnia uttered that, they had a feeling she was referring to the time when she had played for the other team - bound to an opposing court. To bring up their suspicions would have been to sour the situation (or at least, more than it already was) - and thus, Willow stitched their lips together, leaving the obvious unsaid. 

As Zinnia made the first strike, Willow knew their bets had paid off. It hadn’t been a test - not really - but even in games, there were machinations. People often revealed more about themselves than they would have thought wise - and here, Willow was learning. The fey was impatient, if not untalented. She was unafraid to strike - and clearly unafraid of looking like a sweaty fool. Sword-fighting was hard work. Matching her blow for blow, Willow parried, gently jabbing Zinnia when she spotted an opening. They didn’t like her - but that didn’t mean they wanted to slice her.

“What determines the winner?” They asked in a pause. “I’m assuming we don’t actually want to kill each other.”

Zinnia could almost taste it – the suspicion that hung in the air, potent and undeniable. She’d never believed Willow capable of being this sharp, but it was possibly because she has never paid much attention to them before. Her eyes narrowed slightly, widening again in a heartbeat. Suspicion was something Zinnia was used to and familiar with, but it did not mean she was oblivious to it now. If anything, it made her more aware of it.  ( “I’m assuming we don’t actually want to kill each other.” ) She scoffed slightly at this, couldn’t help that slight slip of antagonism from escaping past her lips. They couldn’t kill each other, yes, that was unforgivable. But hurting each other? That was very much allowed. Beads of sweat fell down from Zinnia’s forehead, and she winced annoyingly at the feeling of them sliding down her face.  “Who hurts each other the most?” she joked, tone light, smile wide. But her eyes were sharp with malice. She shrugged, and said, “Let Aster decide?” she suggested with a slight tinge of bitterness (Zinnia wanted to be queen this year). “What do you think?” 

“Why do you want me to so badly?” Forest rolls his eyes, head shaking the slightest bit. He had some confidence against Cobalt, but surely not in wrestling as much as he did in other forms of combat. In their usual spar he had more of an advantage. In wrestling which was less strategy and more brute force and grit - it wasn’t wasn’t in his favor. Though of course, Zinnia knew that, and he had a feeling she wanted him to compete to lose, which wasn’t very encouraging.·“It’s clearly not because you believe in me.”

He could only stare with a mostly humorless expression as she snickered at her own joke, only a hint of a smile pulling at one corner of his lips simply due to her obvious amusement and pride and not so much the joke itself. Zinnia’s bubbly personality was hard not to appreciate - at least when he was in the mood for it.·

“Decide who wins all the competitions? Is there ambiguity?” For the most part it seemed to be who came in first in a race, who was last standing, who scored the most points. Was there really a need for a mediator? He trusted she likely knew the rules far better than he did.

Zinnia doesn’t always have an explanation for the things that she sought for so badly, and often would not possess an intelligible explanation as to why she wants certain things. Honestly, it was simple.·“I just want it to happen. I have this incredible prediction I would be very happy when I see it.” She offered nothing more aside from that, tilting her head and ignoring the disapproval in his tone, the roll of his eyes and the shake of his head.·

“Well, for example, in singing. It’s just in cases of ties or in singing or storytelling - stuff like that. They’d need someone to decide the ultimate winner for everything. I want to have that power,” she started, rambling on.·

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to choose someone just because I wanted to, not because they deserved it.” And Zinnia may not be realizing it, but she has already done this in love, choosing Sorrel even when he didn’t deserve her. Or, as it seems, any woman.

Willow liked to think they were an acute judge of character. Or, to put it in crass terms - they saw through the bullshit. The problem was, with Zinnia, there was very little to base their assumptions off of. (Leaving aside the switching of courts). There was no doubt about it, she was good, very good. You wanted to believe in her, even if you couldn’t quite bring yourself to. As such, Willow had their guard up around her, constantly probing for a weak spot - for evidence to inform their suspicions. They would have taken evidence the other way too, had it emerged. But so far, it hadn’t.

Instead, their interactions were an elegant dance, each rooting themselves to a position whilst making sure that open war never broke out. Each, Willow was sure, had their own reasons for it.

“You can’t.” Willow teased, their eyes wide and gleaming. Swinging the sword around their wrist, Willow took up a defensive stance, waiting for their game to begin. “This time around?” The spy missed nothing. “You’ve had ample opportunity for sword fighting then?” Seemed odd. Fey wars had been few and far-between - and never fought with weapons of this kind. Stepping closer, Willow kept her eyes on Zinnia, waiting for the first strike.

“Well, no. I’ve only done it maybe twice, many Lugnasads ago,” she answered with a shrug, tone casual. She clearly didn’t think much of why the woman was asking her these questions. But on most days, she’s always been a little wary around them, always watching her own movements even more than she usually does.  She was Zinnia, the bright and happy (and occasionally – airheaded) fey who likes to have fun all the time, try new things and check out any new shiny thing presented under her nose. It used to be an act before, but now she found it has melded into who she was as a person. Zinnia could tell the other was waiting for her first strike, and so she obliged. After all, she’s nothing if not a pleaser. She stepped forward, aggressively, and reached so their blades made contact. She was impatient, and she didn’t like waiting, so she took it upon herself to finally get things going.

+ forest. ( @forcstfire )

It had occurred to Cobalt, once or twice over the years, that if he were really desperate enough to father a child, he could face an Ordeal and simply– switch. Such terrible thoughts were saved for the darkest of days, when Willow shut themselves into the bedroom or bath and tried to pretend they weren’t as broken-hearted as they were. The words froze on his tongue the one time he managed to open his mouth in an effort to actually say them. The thought was beyond ridiculous– giving up everything they’d both worked for, giving up their entire shared life together and the family they’d built rather than borne had to have been too much to ask. (That Willow was willing to do exactly that and without his consent– exactly that and without giving up their court– Danu, his heart would break to think of it.)

Such thoughts were not welcome at Lugnasad, no matter which former member of what court stood before him. Zinnia’s smile was as bright as Tiffany crystal, and Cobalt was grateful for the distraction. She’d have been wasted in the Unseelie court, or so he told himself whenever he remembered that he had been responsible of one death of sorts in her family– of her Unseelie self. “I like to win,” he countered, shrugging those massive shoulders he carried with him. “Sue me.” 

“Willow’s the story-teller, and I’ve broken one too many knuckles to weave.” Cobalt knew his weaknesses as well as he knew his strengths. “What about you? What are you gonna do if Larkspur sings this year?” 

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Zinnia grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be better to win at something else? We’re all very much aware you’re huge and scary and could wrestle. It’s old news,” she continued rambling, dragging the words out. At this point, she wasn’t even sure why she was so hellbent on making him join the other competitions. She just knew she wanted it to happen. “I’m just saying. You’re an archfey, you could do anything.”  Zinnia does know that as soon as the wrestling competition is over, Cobalt would come out as its victor. There’s no doubt. She’s also been trying to persuade Forest into going up against Cobalt, knowing the large man would win, and confident in this knowledge. It would just be fun to see him compete in something else for a change.  “She’s going for swordfighting this year. Didn’t know she had it in her, to be honest,” Zinnia said before she could stop her mouth. Sometimes she cursed herself and her unfiltered words. “What else? Beat her.” Zinnia smiled arrogantly, confident in her abilities. She knew she would likely lose, but it didn’t mean she would face her competitors without her usual bravado. Bravado. Funny she should think of that word. It was one of Lark’s (Lorde to the humans) songs. It annoyed her to think about the Unseelie lure now, though years and years ago, they might  have been close friends.  “What, you don’t think I could?” 

“Enticing,” Forest clicked his tongue, flashing her a cunning smile. Of course, she only offered the words because she believed Cobalt would best him, which made it the slightest bit more interesting for him to go up against the man just to prove a point. Cobalt was big and strong, but that didn’t mean he knew as much about strategy. 

“You should know I don’t know what goes on at these things,” Forest folded his arms over his chest, “I just come because I’m told to.” It wasn’t completely inaccurate; while he continued to try and learn about the fey traditions and celebrations, it was rather difficult to keep up with. Especially since their traditions always seemed to include something outlandish - fire jumping and extravagant displays, marriages…

Forest’s head bobbed the slightest bit, eyes sliding up towards where Asher had taken his place as ‘Queen’. “So it’s random,” Forest commented, “Not sure there’s very good odds then.” Assuming every fey’s name was thrown into that bowl, getting picked was a rather small percentage; but seeing as fey also lived for hundreds of years, at someone the odds would be in her favor. 

At her question he turned towards her once more, flashing a smile, “Of course you do.” 

“So? You’re going against him, then?” Zinnia eagerly asked, figuratively at the end of her seat. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to get out of this, she only knew she liked to gamble and was very confident of the people she chose to bet on. After all, she chose Forest before in his Fidchell, and here he is, alive and well, at least he seems so to Zinnia. 

The idea that the game they all subscribed to inflicted much pain and suffering not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically as well, is lost on her. It was just something that happened once a year where Zinnia gets to be right about who wins. “Oh, right, I forgot you’re very green,” Zinnia said, snickering at her own joke. Because his name is Forest, and she said gre-- never mind. Danu, she wished Onyx was there to hear her. He’d be so proud. “Yes it’s random, but it’s been almost a hundred years you know? It’s not like there’s many of us left...” Reminded suddenly of the fertility problems in their court, Zinnia almost regretted the words as they left her mouth. Almost. “I have to be queen at some point. Would feel great to decide who wins in all the competitions,” she sighed. It would feel so amazing. It didn’t seem possible for Zinnia’s smile to grow brighter, but it did. “Thank you. I knew you’d agree.” 

Forest scowled, as if the question was offensive. “Sure, I’d go against Cobalt. I’ve beaten him plenty of times.” Which was somewhat true, he had one-uped the guardian in a handful of their spars, but it was more often than not that Cobalt would best him. Particularly in something like wrestling. It wasn’t much a game of strategy as it was brute strength, and Cobalt certainly defeated him in that category - even if it might make an entertaining fight. “Not sure I necessarily feel the need to publicize the potential ass-kicking, though. The ass being, mine.” 

He studied her at her offer, pursing his lips, “Not sure I like the terms of that deal.” Knowing Zinnia, she would cook up something terrible for him in that ‘do whatever I say’ term. “What do I get if I win?”

Following her gaze towards the stage he tipped his head, folding arms across his chest. “I don’t know, how exactly do they decide who is…’queen’?” 

“You get me,” she joked, her eyes sparkling like they always did whenever she talked to him. The nature of their ‘relationship’ was something she chose to regard as simple, though if she really, really though about it, it would always be complicated, for her at least. And this was mostly owed to her conflicted feelings and fickle nature.  But for all that she frequently changed her mind about absolutely anything, few things remained constant: her desire to be truly and completely Seelie, her unconditional affection for Sorrel, her undying devotion to Garnet, her gratefulness to Cobalt  and her good friendship with Forest.  And they used to do things more than friends would do, and because it affected the second constant thing in her life, she chose to back away.  “I’m kidding. How about this... would it be fair for you if I say you get to ask anything of me if you win?” She countered, eyebrows raised again. She is way too confident that Cobalt would win, she doesn’t doubt that at all.  She frowned, incredibly annoyed, at least at the moment, at Aster. “Weren’t you here? They pick the name out of a basket. I’ve never been chosen, and I am pissed.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “You think I look like I could be a Queen, right?” She asked him, eyes trained on his face, searching.