Vincenzodives​:

“Look at what we have here, a traitor amidst friends, hello Judas Iscariot,” Robin croons as she moves closer to the spot where Wade had hidden away, anger sitting on her chest as she looks coolly at Wade. She hopes he apologizes, hopes he is sorry enough to do so. Because if he is here to enjoy the fruits of his labors, she will gut him and feed her to the lycan’s herself. But if he is here to apologize? Well, she can use that for her advantage, use him as a more solid link within the Eye so she can open the way for Lupo to raze it to the ground. With that in mind, she creates a sound barrier around them, to ensure no one else can hear them.  “Do tell me, why would I go anywhere alone with you? I cannot trust you do not carry an iron blade, as I cannot trust you are here to mourn and not to survey for your next victim while enjoying the pain and destruction you have caused.”

          a gift for @thegoodfellow​,

note: we’re backdatin’ a little to the funeral stuff

          Wade had been mostly sulking in the corner, the funeral became a place to settle irreparable differences between conflicting species and the Archer was adept enough to figure violence was a banished principle. It still hadn’t brought him any comfort and for the first time, Wade allows the inquietude that rises within to consume him, slinks back upon himself, the Archer hoping he’d disappear into the ether. He’d always been a boisterous and domineering personality, rendered silent by the guilt which remains. Robin had told him to go and he had, so why was it such a cowardly affliction that plagued him now? Regardless, he recognizes the fall Chancellor, feels a pit settle in his stomach as his mouth nearly goes dry, “Robin,” Wade understands that Robin would filter towards her name as this inevitable calling, wringing his hands together, “We need to talk.”

chancellorxlaer​:

-

The fey were clairvoyant, knowing who to trust and how was all but woven into their nature, still, it was not impossible for them to be deceived. Deception, however, was typically their game. Laer knew, he’d employed it countless times before. Robin looked like a frail and broken thing, hollowed eyes and worry laced her words, it was… Uncomfortable. She was a chancellor now, strength was what her people needed more than anything - what all the fey needed. One weak link reflected poorly on all of them, if there was something he could do to dispel this worry then he would do it. 

“Our judgement isn’t infallible.” Laer offered, “What did this betrayal really cost you?” The chancellor asked in an attempt to ascertain the depth and breadth of her relationship with the individual who betrayed them. Fey, as it happened, were especially skilled when it came to vengeance. The magic that bloomed within them was enough to blanket this city, this forest was a focal point and anyone with intuition could feel how Zahrya had embedded it with the very nature of their being. Blood magic that Laer had affectionately steered him towards, after all, it wasn’t without its uses. 

...

“A gut wound, an iron-made scar and a great deal of the empathy I set aside for humanity,” Robin admits, a near sardonic smile on her lips as she speaks. She is more than aware of her own predilection for humans, knows that her young age had given her a kinder perspective of them as she had not experience the same violence towards their kind that the older generations had. She knows that all things considered, she had been more understanding of humanity than many other eladrin, knows despite the new jaded certainty sitting on her chest, she is likely to remind kinder still. It’s her better nature, but as any eladrin that is not the only thing that she is. “I had a project of sorts, a human that hunted demons for revenge for what they did to his family, and I saw myself on him in a way. That blinded me to his cowardice and lack of principles.”

The truth is simple, at the end of the day. Robin had seen herself on Wade, desperate to avenge the lost of a loved one, and because of that, had been willing to help him. Willing to love him as a friend, because she had trusted him as one trusts those they believe they understand, those they believe to be alike them. What Robin had failed to see was that Wade lacked the strength of character to be anything but a lamb. Well, if that if he was so very willing to betray her for puny convictions, she would need not hesitate any longer. He is a lamb, and one she would gladly lead to a slaughter

“The good news is that now I have a stronger link leading back to the Eye, and little compunctions on exploiting it,” she offers, slowly. It still weights on her, the care she held for Wade, but her people always came first, and now that the little archer is a threat, she will spare him from her anger no longer.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

wintersaurora​:

The private sitting room was the definition of cozy and elegant, but Aurora was tense, and less elegant as she slouched and chewed nervously at the fountain pen in her hand. She might’ve quickly fixed her posture if anyone else had come in, but anyone else knew better. Anyone else except their new Autumn Chancellor, and other select few. Aurora’s eyes flickered up, the pen still between her teeth as the other fey approached. “I wouldn’t speak so soon,” she muttered tiredly, putting down the pen. Jaded had the definition of how she felt most days now, in a cold and passive way that felt oddly similar yet completely different to the empty depression of her punishment days. “And while being a Chancellor is all encompassing responsibility, it’s likely never been as overwhelming as it is right now. You certainly have impeccable timing…” Aurora still wasn’t sure how to feel about it all - losing Fen’harel, gaining Robin. She hid her uncertainly by glancing back down at her papers. “I actually have quite a bit to talk to you about, now that you’re here…” But she waited, looking up to see if Robin had any pressing matters first.

...

“Even if you have reached the point where you have become jaded, it is still praise worthy that it took you this long,” she mentions, all but throwing herself on one of her seats in her most overdramatic faint. She falls sideways, and then she proceeds to arrange herself on a more comfortable position so that she overlooks Aurora as they speak. Sharp eyes notice the hints of nervousness found on her old friend, and she tries for levity, even knowing that she has to turn for seriousness in order to deal with whatever matters the Winter Chancellor had in mind. “Ah, yes. A perfect timing to deal with this all encompassing shit storm.”

Then she nods, a hum leaving her as she snaps a notebook and a pen into existence as she leans back, eyes serious as she looks back at the Chancellor.

“I was merely passing by to greet you and offer you a respite,” she says, tone softer as she looks back at the nervous chancellor. “But if you require my help, then I will do what I can.”

zahryaofspring​:

✿*ﾟ ‘ﾟ･

Serenity. Relaxation. Oddly enough, these concepts have been reinvigorated in Zahrya’s mind, though entirely removed from his physical body. Ironically in the last weeks, he’s felt most at peace when he wasn’t attached to his body. Letting his spirit roam and merge with changelings as he currently is has been quite liberating for the Chancellor. Though the nature of Robin’s insistence triggers another train of thought. 

“Do I seem nervous or stressed? Impossible! Look, I am here at the party.” He’s reminded of Yavie earlier that evening, how ready the younger fey was to lend him power. Were the seedlings beginning to doubt him? Sure, he was beginning to struggle to maintain some sense of time and got confused on occasion, but that didn’t mean he was failing at his duties. “New is good, but some things are futile. Our bodies are … transcendent. We are not bound by base desire like the children.” 

Perhaps his views were old, maybe even too old to be considered relevant, but the old ways brought the fey this far so why abandon them for conventions that’ll surely pass in a millennium or two? Zahrya held a deep love for all eladrin, but power begets power and that’s what was needed now. “My parents were born of magic older than Her Majesty, power undiluted by this realm. It runs through my veins, the omega of two ancient noble lines. Is it so wrong to want to honor that?”

...

“Zahrya, dearest, you are within a Changeling and intimidating the other party goers,” Robin reminds him softly, eyes flickering around the room in a pointed manner before they settle back upon the Spriggan before her. It is concerning, to say the least, the way the Chancellor is acting. It is not entirely out of character, no, but there is a hint of something else, and undertone that she can glimpse within his actions. Despite knowing that it is not quite her place, despite knowing that he will likely not listen as she is merely a noble from Autumn and not his equal, not quite, she has to point out the truth. “Your dislike for mortals is well known, but I do not believe you would have gone as far as bring your Changelings to a Senate sponsored party if you weren’t nervous or stressed. It is not quite your usual style.”

“A common reaction, of course,” she rushes to reassure him, not wanting to make him think she is judging him for his stress or nerves. “The situation is rather worrying, and I know you are excelling at your duties, but you are more than your duties, Chancellor. I know you will fulfill them, but aside your duties we also need you.”

She shrugs.

“Perhaps we are not bound to base desires, but they are nice, every once in a while.”

“It is not wrong to want to honor your parents, no,” she finally settles in her response, not believing she should push on that topic as it would likely be both an uphill battle and a losing one, and she would rather focus on the battle for the Spring Chancellor’s mental health.

TATI GABRIELLE ph. Ben Cope Spaghetti Magazine, February 2021

wadecalhoun​:

          He flinches as Robin tosses the shield atop of them, Wade had expected her vehemence to triumph over all and confusion for what they’re currently enduring, to the way she still came forth to protect him, settles over the Archer as they drift into blackness. He’s unsure of how long he’d been out and Wade snaps to attention, the rustling of trees and the chittering of creatures has Wade standing, or rather scrambling to attention. Robin’s not far off and he half-jumps over to her, kneeling beside her as he unsheathes a knife. It’s poised to strike in his hand, yet his other hand hovers over the autumn fey, frowning down at her with a litany of thoughts and extempore he’d never say aloud. There’d be time to grieve the new chasm between them, but now was not such time for he could have sworn the ground beneath her was swirling, haunted by his own imagination. This place gave him the damned creeps and though his eyes peered around the cavernous depths of the woods, he’s shaking her awake in tandem, a hushed whisper escaping him, “Robin?.. Robin,” more emphasis as he attempted to rouse her, “Where the hell did you take us?” He’s a mere human, he can’t actually sense magic, but everything that revolved around him felt pretty damned fey-like to him, begrudgingly so as his eyes peered past the littering of bodies that surrounded them, listless and still.

...

Awakening comes with Wade’s voice and his shaking, and it takes her a long second to rouse through the sluggishness she feels. Her magic is oddly settled against her skin, an uncomfortable feeling that she has to asses at once, but first, she flickers her eyes open to find Wade above her with a knife on hand. A droll look is sent his way as his words register, and she brushes his hand away as she straightens into a sitting position, not bothering to dignify him with words as she glances around with a level eye. The scenario is familiar for years spent exploring the boundaries near the courts, the Otherworld stands before them but it does not feel right. Not when there is an ominous sentiment settling over her chest as she looks around. Finally, she deigns to look at Wade as she stands up and brushes off any dust that had gotten on her clothes. She does so by hand first, and then attempts to gather a gust of wind, but the air around them is filled with twinkling flames instead. A swift curse leaves her as she cuts her magic.

“I did nothing but throw shields in an attempt to protect us,” she explains him calmly as she looks around. “And if I venture a guess, I would say we are somewhere that looks like the Otherworld, but not quite, as something is interfering with my magic.”

who? @wadecalhoun

where? the last bean

A contemplative mood falls upon the small table she has gotten for herself on the corner of the coffee shop, a cup of tea settled in front of her as she ponders at the window. It’s not her court that worries her now, not the Senate nor the drows. Not even the Eye, despite the task she had been assigned by the other chancellors. Instead, she is reminiscing, allowing herself to feel the grief that had clogged on her chest after the period of mourning. The change from a carefree livestyle to taking up the responsibilities of Chancellor had been drastic, allowing her little to no time to grieve those departed. Robin is not crying, not quite, but those who know her will notice the slight shine of her eyes as she looks at the window, the unusual somber air that follows her.

She is reaching towards her cup when someone slides on the chair in front of her, bringing her back from her contemplation as she raises her eyes and presents one of her favorite mortals with the facsimile of a smile.

“What do I owe the pleasure?”

Robin loses control of the situation before she figures out the source of Lain's loss of sanity. Lain moves, a

nd with him come the changelings, rusted weapons reaching beyond what their body would make seem possible as the blade dug far into his skin, the sound wet and all the more revolting as she realizes that it is nothing less than a kill shot. Panic sends her heart racing as she crosses the distance and multiple quick steps, hands stretched before they retreated hesitatingly. She could heal him, she knew this, and yet. And yet she wouldn't. There is far too little magic on her, and healing him would scrap the bottom of her reserves, and she cannot do that. Not when the war is barely beginning, and there is work to be done. A pained expression crosses her face as Lain speaks, a keening hurt as she realizes this is it, she has killed her wolf.

The Fall Chancellor is about to open her mouth to reassure him that she knows, that she is ore than well aware that under normal circumstances he would never betray her as he had done.

But she is too late.

Between one breath and the next, Lain is gone, and she is left blinking out his blood from her eyes, the sticky substance smattering her face and clinging to her eyelashes.

It's not a sight that she will forget any time soon.

He wanted nothing more than to give up and run.  But he had no control over his body anymore, the Drow had warped his mind beyond reason.  The only thing that manifested in his thoughts was kill. The wolf charged at Robin once again, only to be intercepted by one of her changelings. For a split second, Lain managed to wrestle back some semblance of control over his corporeal form.  He could have easily evaded the fungal changeling’s blade, but he did not move.  The sword pierced his stomach, the tip protruding from his back.  Pain bloomed through his midsection and it was enough to snap him out of his rampage, his body shrinking back into his human shape.  The room started to spin, he was losing so much blood from a pierced artery, he collapsed against the nearest wall. 

“Robin, I’m so sorry,” He managed to gasp out, blood dripping from his mouth.  His shaking hands clutched the open wound on his abdomen, trying in vain to hold back the ichor freely cascading from the gash.  Tears welled in his eyes, he glanced down at his wound then back at the fall chancellor. He would be dead soon, but that fact had not dawned on him yet. “I-I didn’t mean to-,” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before his body exploded. Splattered red viscera was all that was left of him. His lifeblood painted Robin’s clothing, the changelings standing guard, the walls, everything. 

Maybe the world would be a better place with him gone.  This was what he always wanted, right? Death.