"Is It A Mimosa If It Does Not Have Orange Juice Or Merely Another Cocktail?" She Muses, Expression Airy

Elodie Yung for Mixed Asian Media

Tati Gabrielle YOU | 3.07 — We’re All Mad Here

who? @lainxsolus​

where? the boundary between new rome and the forest

“I have heard you are quite good at technology,” Robin mentions coming out of the mist to nod at the lycan, Lain Solus if she had heard correctly. She had asked Zahrya first, of a tech adept lycan, then ran into one of the Lycan Council members, one Regina D’Angelo, and she had been pointed his way. For now, there is little clue on where to start attacking the Eye, and despite the clear connection she has with Wade, she has never been one for human technology beyond the every day uses. She needed a hacker, and there just happens to be one amidst the pack? How lucky of her. “I have a proposition to make. A job, really, and one that aligns nicely with your alpha’s desire to raze the Eye to the ground.”

"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."

T A T I G A B R I E L L E

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.

lainxsolus​:

“I’ll be good I promise,” Lain responded obediently, cock practically throbbing at even the tiniest praise sung in her velvety smooth voice. It felt like his brain was short-circuiting when her fingers wrapped around his neck, breath stilling in his lungs as he anticipated Robin’s grip to tighten.  But her touch remains consistent, leaving him wanting much more. “Who says the forest needs to be deserted? I don’t give a fuck who watches,” He boasted, although he would probably change his mind if he knew any members of the pack were observing the act. Who he decided to sleep with was never any of their business. He fully pressed his body up against her’s, giving her hip a squeeze as he hooked her leg around his waist so she could really feel the effect she was having on him.  Lain grinded up against her, pants clinging to his hardness, he let out a shaky breath as his gaze met her’s.  Oh, the things he planned to do to her once they got out of here. 

...

“That is what I like to hear, good boy,” Robin says, a bright grin on her lips as a sense of thrill fills her at the easy response. She wants to push and see how much he is affected by praise, wants to see what he will do if she squeezes down on his throat like he seems to want. She is delighted by the prospect of learning how to pull all sort of noises from this puppy of hers. “Oh, but I am selfish, sweetheart. I want to be the only one to see your face as you come undone,” she coos playfully as she puts just the slightest amount of pressure against his throat as she speaks to prove a point. Her grin widens at the bulge on his pants and she rolls her hips up on unison to his grinding. Eyes meeting Lain, she leans forward to pull him into a quick passionate kiss, before she pulls back and pushes him away enough to step away from the tree. Fingers intertwining with his, she pulls at his arm and drags him out of the park and towards the forest, a soft hum leaving her lips as she hides them from the world and any interruptions. The next few minutes pass away in a flash and she soon finds herself pushing Lain against a tree in a small clearing within New Rome’s boundaries and grabs his shirt, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

"Aurora, my dearest friend. I would find you in the middle of a forest fire without aid," Robin drawls dramatically as she steps past another ice barrier, raising a hand to her chest to add to add to her dramatics. "Of course, the ice show did help, but truly, you are far too bright to be hidden regardless."

She nods at her logic, flawless as usual, and she is glad to be able to contribute to the conversation with something more than her own guesses.

"I ran into Laer on the way here, he is currently fetching Tamlen. I believe he went on the direction of the Senate's current base, but I do not know if he changed his path," she offers. It is unfortunate that she does not know where Zahrya is, but Aurora is likely right. Zahrya is likely to return to the Forest now that they have separated. That, or to find his demon lover to have him close as they fight. Either way, he will be relatively safe and easy to find. Eyes narrowed, Robin considers their options, only to pause when Aurora speaks once more. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Will that stop you from trying once more?"

This union of their Chancellor magic had been a lot more potent than what had happened at Halloween. But, unlike Halloween, Aurora hadn't need a moment to recuperate. The elf reinforced their borders and fought while her fellows recovered up until that moment, becoming the center of a storm unlike any other that the once winter eladrin had ever conjured. Unforgiving ice and blue fire. Rarely did a soul pass through and, when they did, they were met with blade and shield. But Aurora was one storm in a sea of warriors and still she doubted even a god themself would be able to stop the onslaught of the drow forces. Their enemy had collective strength beyond anything she had ever seen, or anything she had ever seen from the memories of her ancestors.

Huginn hadn't needed to inform Aurora of the Autumn Chancellor's approach - she felt the familiarity and made sure not even a flake of snow touched Robin as she approached. "Hope it wasn't too hard to find me," Aurora joked, though her tone and her expression were as serious as death. She conjured up another wall of ice immediately where one had just fallen to a monstrous beast just a few blocks away. "No. But something tells me Tamlen isn't dead, not by Laer's reaction." Tamlen had certainly changed, changed into something. Plus, Aurora would have expected an ocean by Laer to drown half the city or a sandstorm to blind them all in his rage. "I have a feeling he'd be looking for him now." Aurora felled the monster, the tentacled thing bursting into shatters of crystalline ice. "Zahrya would never go far from the Forest."

There was a moment of hesitation but Aurora couldn't keep the sense of impending doom to herself anymore. "We're not going to be able to hold this city, Robin."

chancellorxlaer​:

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

....

There is a weight that comes with being the survivor of a tragedy, to bear witness to your world falling apart from the seams even as you attempt to keep it together. Robin is too far to stop the Drow Queen, too far to do anything but watch as the Court’s suffer yet another blow, one she does not know how they will recover from. Titania, their home, Fen’harel, Aurora and now Meryasek? It has been blow after blow, no break in between. It’s been a long arduous year, a year full of grief and loss, and they seem to keep losing no matter what they attempt. It is far too much grief, far too much misery, bottled and kept inside for too long for her to be able to keep a hold of it any longer. The vessel on her chest, the one where she keeps all her worries and grief and empathy, shatters under the pressure of seeing the corpse of yet another friend, of another loved one, before her. The first crack had appeared in Halloween, deepened further by Wade’s betrayal, but this, for Hyrsam to ensure that his King’s funeral would also becomes Meryasek’s? Over and over again, she had considered peace, had considered unity between species as a solution to their current conflicts.

No more.

The world had turned their back to the fey, it’s only fair they do the same. Anger bypasses grief, her song joining Laer’s in order to keep the pretense of an united front before their people and their enemies alike. Flames gather around them, the fire preventing anyone but the chancellor’s from reaching their fallen King. As she steps closer, Robin allows herself a brief moment to grieve for who they had lost, to grieve for her friend, gone where they could not follow after doing his all to protect their people. He had risen beyond any of the expectations placed on him, and his death was yet another injustice struck against the fey.

Alas, death takes kings and paupers alike.

Eyes snapping open, Robin let’s out a whistle, high and sharp, and sends her own changeling to reinforce the borders as a precaution. Zahrya will do his duty, but any help will be a kindness for the Spring Chancellor.

“Do not stand around, we cannot afford to remain frozen,” Robin snaps out, voice sharp and cutting through the grief beginning to overwhelm the court. “Gather the children, ensure they are kept safe, place the death together and notify next of kin. Now.”

Eyes going back to Zahrya, she bites her lip and tentatively places her hand upon his shoulder in comfort. There had been a tension between the two since that conversation near the pond, but there cannot be infighting if they want to survive, weakened as they are. “Not now Zahrya,” she offers, voice soft yet kind. “We will have our time for grieve later, but now? Now we must ensure that Meryasek’s work does not go to waste.”

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift.