Tati Gabrielle As Prudence Blackwood

who? @farenduil where? farenduil's place when? after the autumn solstice

After the answering the call of the Wild, the door before her should mean nothing. It does not lead to an end, nor towards any sort of physical agony of the sort, and yet it is a looming creature she almost does not want to confront. Yet, what sort of Chancellor would she be if she were to allow a mere conversation to scare her off with her tail between her legs? A sigh leaves her lips as she raises her hand to knock on Farenduil's door, a second basket of the Autumn's Harvest floating next to her. With his change, she had not felt it safe for him to be welcomed to the yearly festivities, and yet his lack of presence had been painful. The least she could do is to offer more of the Harvest to ensure he knew that he was still welcomed to peruse the fields, even if they could no longer be his home.

"Do open, Farenduil, we have far too much to discuss," Robin calls through the door, even as she plucks one of the apples from the floating basket and takes a bite for herself. "The longer you take, the more likely the pumpkin spice ice cream tubs are too spoil, too."

Ambrose & Prudence in “Lupercalia”

Happy Birthday Tati Gabrielle!

who?@rowanivar where? the vendors

"Please tell me you actually know that we are in a party thrown by vampires, love," she asks the mortal she had seen wandering around giving the most intense 'i am just a little guy going through life' she has seen on her decently long life. At least he didn't seem to be out of place, more so, looking like he is here on a date. Good for the dude. "There is another human walking around draped in a sheet and pretending to be a ghost and I am pretty sure he knows shit all about the wolf den he just walked into. I don't want to nanny the both of you, but I will if you are also clueless."

Two lost souls 🖤🥀

"Once again, congratulations on your children," Robin says kindly, the words pushed out of her lips to prevent a quip of her own regarding how the title of Lifebringer could be given to plenty of other high elves as well. Her parents, Laer, multiple members of her court. As much as Zahrya wanted to believe himself special for having children, he is far from it. But as long as his delusions benefited her court, she would keep mum, after all, aside from his weird fixation on reproduction, he was rather pleasant to be around. "If that it's to be so, I must thank you for your determination."

✿*° ‘° ･

"I've acquired many titles in my time. 'Lifebringer' is just the latest, though I will uphold it as I would any other. Procreation is the foundation for all life in nature." On the childrearing front, Zahrya had more success than any of the elves which was within expectation but couldn't remain the norm. Helping his fertility to seep into the crevices of every court was his calling, and he would answer it. "Prayer has nothing to do with it. My blessings have always been boundless. All will have the children they deserve by the time my work is complete."

wadecalhoun​:

-

          The other hunters are hellbent on this blinding and senseless violence, The Eye comes across many who are meant to act under crucial orders but some seem improperly vetted by association. When their first overseer had been claimed to walk this earth as a ghoul, proper clearances had perhaps fallen to the wayside; Wade had never known The Eye to be desperate enough to snag up whoever desired to be apart of their ruthless ranks. Wade flinches as the knife meets flesh and there’s this inherent gasp and curdling scream that follows, an inevitable that carries so much agony and betrayal. It seeps into the core of his heart, blackens it a little further, almost promises him that place in the Inferno that the abomination had wagged in front of him when it had given him it’s blessing to let him suffer earth side.

He sees the proverbial flames lick around the forest, feels the heat on his neck, when really he’s sweating at the reminder of how out of control it had all become in an almost instantaneous bout of corruption. He cares little for the faith of these heedless hunters but his heart is torn in two places; to listen to Robin’s final omen or stick around to hold weight on the wound, to be consumed by the protectors of the forest, torn apart by lycans. It’d surely be considered the better fate, to meet his own quietus, than to force himself to endure what he’d just done; the agonizing weight of it all.

Wade is simply frozen, pathetically so, stumbling backwards, back towards the fog he had been granted passage to enter through. This was meant to be an innocent recon but it had stumbled into something unforgivable. The rusted scent of blood has since pricked the air and his jaw clenches as though to contain his own sickness at the reminder that it was her blood. Even with his distinct act of accomplished betray, betrayal by pathetic indifference, Robin offers him safe passage home away from the fate that the true harbingers of senseless violence would inevitably discover.

An apology is pricked in saddened irises, but it dies on his lips, it always would as he slips away into the fog back away to the sanctity of Rome and the gelid environment of The Eye’s headquarters. Wade will never be forgiven, he understands this as he recalls the insurmountable grief that struck Robin’s countenance, is anguished under the reminder of the iron blade jutting out of her frame. He would never forgive himself anyhow.

...

When he stumbles, seemingly collapses unto herself and leaves it doesn’t surprise her, but it does shatter what is left of the faith she held for her once-favorite hunter. It is such a small thing that does it, the way he hesitates, the way he almost reaches back, the way he almost seems sorry — But despite it all, despite the hesitation, despite the countless times she had saved him, he leaves. He heeds her warning and weights his life against hers, and decides his is worth more, every time. Faith is such a funny sentiment, capable of withstanding the worst of storms and shattering at a single look. Robin had believed in Wade, had believed that he saw her as more than the means to an end, more than a convenient relationship to use and then discard.

She had believed them friends, had given him the gift of her friendship and loyalty when she rarely bestowed it to any human, and he had repaid her with the same sort of fire and brimstone the demon he so fears had offered him. It would be ironic if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

“With friends like these, who needs enemies,” she mumbles, coughs out through the pain, blood staining the back of her teeth as she looks at the hunters that had remained and smiles like a predator, for what are they but New Rome’s guardian’s prey? She feels them coming as she levels a look at the hunters before her, knows that their judgment day is closer than they would like and the mean-spirited part of her relishes at this information. There might be a sense of unique understanding and empathy for humanity that Robin holds on her chest, but she is not less of a fey because of it. They are a fickle capricious sort, her people, and she has never been shy about her determination to see the Eye burn. Wade has confirmed her suspicions, and she has granted him one last kindness.

Next time, the one bleeding for his mistakes will be him.

She has no need to retaliate against the hunters that remain, though, not when she only has to look to the side to see a changeling emerging from the fog to deliver their fate to them. Instead, she focuses on her song to slow down the blood flow enough to stand up and hobble deeper into the forest. The blade had been iron and properly cured, not impossible to heal but something she would feel much more confident healing with someone else present. Carefully, she limps away from the clearing where the curtain of her friendship with Wade had fallen, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and hoping that she will find someone to join her in a healing song sooner rather than later.

summersiofra​:

          Siofra couldn’t take offense to certain play on words like mortals may, but she still raised a brow as if offended that Robin had showed her up in knowledge. They still had plenty to learn in the mortal realm but also could figure that Aurora wouldn’t take kindly to her knowledge pursuit being tainted by alcoholic beverages and their monikers; even if most humans did tend to openly abuse the substance. “Let us start slow with tequila and lime then,” they uttered despite being wrong about the transition from drink to drink, jumping up as a scream tore through the room, putting the summer warder on edge. “I need to find Aurora now.”

...

‘It’s lime and —,” her correction to Siofra’s understandable mistake is interrupted by the sense of dread coming from her clairvoyance, and soon is swept aside by the scream and the wave of necromancing magic that follows. Robin had not been alive the last time Asphodel had risen, but she had read the accounts, heard her mother’s stories. Fear fills her as she realizes that the coven has returned and with it the threat of the war her kind still fears due to the losses they had at the hands of the dead. Danger is in the air, and there are so many possible victims on it’s path.

“Go,” Robin nods, understanding the warder’s duty. “I will attempt to work in evacuation and wait for my chancellor’s orders.”

Why so weary? Why so scared to be seen? That’s what I want in friends. To be inspired to wonder.  Who is she?

"If that is how you feel, there is nothing else to say about it. However, if you ever need my aid in this matter, I will do so freely, as a repayment for the transparency." There is something rotten about having to word their relationship as transactional, but there is a desire to respect Inan's boundaries and they have time to build on the fragile trust he had chosen to extend to her after Fen'harel's betrayal. "I will, yes. I am curious to see what this Count is capable on this matter. You?"

"That's not my intention for coming here," Inan was not looking for permission, "I only wanted to be transparent." He thought carefully over his words to follow, elves had to be mindful of such things but whenever Inan spoke it was from the heart. "My brother died long ago, I won't know a drow renowned for terrorizing my people." Even if it hurt to think of Somniar as such, it didn't make the notions any less true. Onto some brighter tidings, Inan had also been meaning to ask, "Will you be attending the party in the mortal realm?"