title: the hunt continues when: post the tinkerer where: rome, Audelë, more trigger warnings: usual stuff
Agony.
Tamlen’s death had been painful, the drainage that followed a rip on their plan. But Tamlen had come back to them against all odds, and the relief had been overwhelming.
Inan hadn’t.
His death feels like being unraveled, like losing a part of herself that she assumed would always be there. The second heartbeat behind her chest is gone, the thread of devotion and steely determination rotting away as death came to take her warder’s hand. Somewhere, a drow is being born. In Rome, Robin’s warder dies, an unfinished melody, a hunt cut short.
She hadn’t even been able to convince him to call her by her name.
Lain’s death had hurt, the growing care she had felt for the lycan, a sharp stab to her chest, but she had not loved the wolf. Not quite, not yet, and now never for he is gone, and she knows that even if Death was the one to collect what was due, she had played a part in that game. It is a tragedy, a story unfinished.
It was not love.
Inan was her warder, she had welcomed him in and invited him into her soul. Loving him was not unlike loving a part of herself. She had kept that emotion at bay, well aware that she had done nothing to earn anything from him but his loyalty, suppressing it to prevent any more awkwardness between the two. Inan’s story with Fen’harel is well known, and she would not push through his boundaries after that betrayal.
Would not have.
But in the end, it did not matter.
Her warder is dead, decay spreading through Rome as Thanatos collects his due, and all Robin can do within the Titan is sink her thoughts with her fellow Chancellors and fall upon the song of destruction they are weaving until they cannot do so any longer.
The Titan falls, and with the fall, their end is marked.
There is no opportunity to fight, no magic to summon, no song capable of stopping the Great Old Ones as they fall upon them like predators upon their prey.
The next fifteen years are spent in the ground, all thought lost beneath the agony of the song of decay and rot, of the end and the beginning.
The darkness is a familiar call, the pain an old comfort, akin to the ritual that had seen her confirmed into her role as Fall Chancellor. A legacy of the Dusk Elves that they once were, the ritual recalled costumes of old, and it is now the only reason Robin does not lose her mind to the slow movement of rot, slowly spreading through her body but keeping her alive to keep their nutrients. It’s a song of fungi, beautiful on its ugliness, on its destruction. She doesn’t lose herself to it, doesn’t break down and lose hope, but it comes close. Were it not for the familiarity of the torture, she might have.
She doesn’t.
She awakens to the astral bombs falling and to freedom that tastes as sickly sweet as the rot that had settled on the back of her throat over the last decade. There is no hesitation when she joins the other Chancellors into a song and they come together to become the Titan once more.
For one last time in this timeline.
Robin dies in the battlefield, only to awaken in a Rome that has not yet been Forsaken.
The battle is set aside, more pressing matters coming into the forefront as they find themselves changed. The Chancellors’ retreat, the war pushed back and with it their destruction of Rome, far more important things to do than to deal with the mortals that destroyed them and saved them alike. The world changed one more time, and Robin changed with it, working with the four other chancellors to create Audelë, a new home, alike the Courts that sheltered them for so long, but something new altogether in the same breath. As the dust settles, she finds Inan, brings him forth into a hug despite his arguments against it and laughs before letting go, polite distance that he is so fond of falling upon the two once more.
Peace fell upon their kind once more, a deal with the dark elves set in place. And the Courts? The Courts protected once more.
It’s not enough.
It will never be enough, but her people deserve the rest. Dusk has fallen upon them, and with it comes a new world they need to learn for themselves. Ignoring it all in reckless rage would be foolish, and the tricksters that hide in the shade are anything but that.
They will wait, they will watch, and they will be ready.
The hunt is eternal, and so are they.
wadecalhoun:
Wade would love nothing more than to diffuse the situation with some ill-mannered joke but her life had lain within the balance and it was with such a precarious situation he was grimly, strangely, quiet. The Archer always would rather have some rebuttal as ammunition when all odds were pointed against him, it wasn’t typical that he was ever reticent and his jaw clenches at the reminder of Robin’s pain and how he was some willing passerby as the violence endured. “I… didn’t stab you,” it falls forward gauchely in protest at her venomous vitriol, a pathetic defense in lieu of all Robin had overcome since the hunter’s reckless accompaniment to the other hunters. “You told me to go!” It was the cowards way out, but it had been a path she’d offered to him in what Wade had, sickeningly, believed to be her final moment. His head bowed, scowling at how everything snowballed so out of proportion, “I didn’t plan for any of that to happen. M’not their leader, they got out of control.” He’s fairly shit at this whole apology thing and a hand rakes through his hair as he tries to regain control of his word vomit, “I wouldn’t leave you to die, Robin. You were in the hands of your own people, your home. You told me to go, I believed you’d had the situation under control,” bleeding out on the grassy floor of the woods; unlikely, but she’d given him the grace to escape and now up heaved the guilt onto him.
....
“No, you just watched as your friends ignored my warnings and stabbed me when I was trying to deescalate the situation. Truly, Calhoun, do you not kill demons for being guilty by association to the demon that destroyed your family? Is it not within my rights to deem you guilty by associating with a group that hunts, captures and experiments on supernaturals?” She wonders if he is willfully blind to his own faults or if he is aware of them but has chosen the path of hypocrisy rather than honesty. “I told you to go, because despite knowing you don’t give a flying fuck about me, I still cared, but that doesn’t mean I don’t blame you for it.” Cared, as in past. Cared, as in no longer. She doubts the poor little human will realize, but the conversation is only serving to solidify her desire to destroy him in such a manner there is nothing left but scraps. “Does that make you feel better? Avoiding the blame? They could not have entered the forest without your help, they would not have stabbed me if you had interjected. The changelings might have ended them, but it was your choice that killed them, your choice that almost killed me. If my King had not answered, I would be gone, and yet you stand before me and try to excuse yourself instead of apologize?” Another bitter laugh escapes her as she shakes her head. “You called me a friend, but the more you speak the more I realize you must have been lying.”
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.
i’ll feast on my fear and swallow it down, deep
i’ll rip the sorrow from my eyes
if that’s what it takes… i’ll let the beast inside WIN
and claw my way through this
TATI GABRIELLE ph. Ben Cope Spaghetti Magazine, February 2021
Decay it's an eternal cycle of life and what comes hereafter. A constant movement in the flow of eternity, it is not hard to lose oneself to the rot if wandering outside the chosen path. Slowly, carefully, she wades through the bogs, her magic keeping her muck free as she wanders through her domain, eyes narrowed as she looks around for any sign of cracks on the foundation. Her song had been strong and sure as she built the Dusk Court, but one can never be too careful, when her people are the ones at stake. Routine check ups across her court serve to calm her, as well as to get to know more of her people as she wanders.
This time, however, she is heading deeper into Trickster's Bog with Inan by her side, her head tilted to the side in consideration as he awaits for him to breach the silence with whatever that is bothering him. A sigh swells int he back of her throat for a moment as he once again chooses formality to create a barrier betwem the two of them, but keeps it to herself as she sends him a curious look. "What is it, Warder? "
@thegoodfellow location: Dusk Court notes: creepy
Travel between the fey forest and the realm of the elves was simple, Inan had taken to patrolling the borders and living beyond the Moon Gate for its ease. His home was already among the trees out there, a small farm that he didn't wish to uproot. Their power had grown, some exponentially, but if the common-blooded fey had weak magic to begin with, multiplying it didn't increase it as significantly as it did for the noble elves. Inan had become stronger, certainly, but the gap between the two bloodlines only became more distinct. It was not hard to understand how one had come to subjugate the other so many years ago.
Robin was safe within their Court, something that Inan hadn't truly felt since Titania reigned over the Otherworld. Here they were though, wandering amidst the muck of the bogs, the stirring decay and mysteries beneath their feet as Inan's footfalls carried him lightly across the surface. "My lady, there is something I feel I must tell you." Keeping secrets from the chancellor wasn't in his nature, but if she were to keep him as her warder then he needed to be honest with her.
who?@yaviefey where? the cemetery
"Oh look, my favorite pumpkin fellow!" She finds him in the cemetery, close enough to the RaveYard to hear the music but not dancing. An exaggerated pout overcomes her face as she sidles next to him and points at someone they can barely see from the distance. "I must warn you, dearest, there is a spirit wandering around going as the Headless Horseman and his pumpkin is scarier than yours."
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.”
wintersaurora:
❅
Aurora takes the glass, silently grateful to have something to occupy her hands and to have something to burn her throat. She takes a sip as the other speaks, hesitating only when Fen’harel was mentioned. Her eyes fell. As she took the glass away from her lips, her gaze finally returned to Robin. “Please… I’ve always counted on you to speak your mind. Everyone else is walking on eggshells around me and I-” She sighed. “I understand. But it’s very difficult to try to come back to myself when no one else is doing it.” She ground her teeth nervously, turning away, pacing very slowly. “If it’s any comfort for you, Robin, I don’t think you’re a failure of a replacement. You’ve held your Court together. You’ve managed to despite never being groomed to do it, despite perhaps the worst travesties we have endured as a people in… millennia.”
...
“If you want me to speak my mind, then you are going to have to accept my kindness and empathy, neither of which are a weakness, as brief as they are, because ignoring tragedy does not help, and you know this,” Robin says pointedly, the allusion towards her own brothers demise vague enough that most would miss. Not Aurora, though, not when they had known each other for so long and the other was aware of the reason why Robin had become involved with the hunt for the Eye in the first place. “I have managed yes, but managing is not enough when we are facing our current threats. I have to do better, be better, but I lack the training and the person who could have trained me is a traitor and no longer part of the Court. Whatever legacy there is for the Fall Chancellor is one that I have to learn without training.”
who? @sabinabrutus
where? the graveyard
Fire is an element that comes to Robin as easy as breathing, an intricate diamond blade set aflame manifesting on her hand as soon as the danger makes itself known. She had sensed the strange magic as soon as it had swept upon Rome, heard the words of the Pythia and felt the dread swept over her as her clairvoyance hit her with the all consuming emotion. Then chaos falls upon the once melodious party and she sets asides her worries to examine later, fire sweeping around her as she hums, the smell of Autumn following her as blistering flames consume Terrors and protect the living. She will not allow harm to befell to anyone, not if she can help it. Eladrin might be her priority, but she would never allow the fate of a Terror befell an innocent soul.
“Down, mortal,” she orders the pretty woman before she sweeps her blade above her and decapitates an unsuspecting Terror.