Beneath ancient trees clothed in the many colors of fall, a dark figure paused. Removing a almost feline head from his hand, glowing eyes flashed as he whispered upon the wind. The pool before him rippled before showing the Realm of the Fae. He let his chuckle rustle the leaves high above him in his ancient hall. The great trees forming columns along the flag stoned path to his dais. Pools behind the trees flickered and sparked with light from various lesser and greater Fae. The mist that tangled above the pools and among the roots of the great trees emitted from the half-moon falls behind his thone of bones. Along the cliff that formed the falls, two high walls followed the pools and trees down to the entrance. It was far too dark to make out the design on them. Th Fae King saw no need to lighten his halls as of the current moment. His throne was made of ancient bones of great creatures, and covered with the hides of those he had killed in the prolonged years of his reign.
Eyes that were shrouded in darkness studied the pool before him, casting his fell voice upon the wind. "Ready the Hunt." His voice was a dark, velvet purr, as several Fae blinked gleaming eyes before disappearing. Gesturing with two fingers, the pool changed to show the meeting place of the Fae Rulers. The grounds where peace would be born, or more war. He looked bemused at the standing stones of England. How long had it been since they first were place in their ancient resting place? How long had they been channeling the ancient magics, powered by the mortals that once worshiped there? Powering the gate for the Fae, entering the Fae world at their own whim. The peace talks would begin shortly, but he predicted the ever caring of Spring would arrive first, followed by Winter or Summer. Tegvan- or 'Falk' as the Fair Folk referred to him- had already decided to arrive last. Alone. His hunt and hounds would gather and prepare themselves, and there was little need. A predatory smile flickered across his 'fae' features. None dared to attack him, the fact was arrogant but true. His great hall held the proof in the shadows and still pools. In the bones and hides he sat upon. In the falls that thundered behind him. Oh, this little peace talk would amuse him to no end.
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The sun moved easily through thick grey clouds. Rain had either come and gone or was on the way, a dreary and beautiful day. Grey eyes studied the clouds and scattered rays of light piercing them. Her hands moved along a small lap-harp compelling notes from the thin silver strings. A musical instrument she had learned over the years, it had been a stout friend to her. It was sung from a great tree and carved with breathe taking detail, nothing less would do for "She who was born of ashes". The notes sharped in anger, they had forbidden her name, her very lovely name because name had power. Her fair face bared a blank expression of sorrow as she sat upon the park bench. A small escape into the mortal world for a slight time. Her Lord had sought something from this Realm so she was sent to fetch it, to attempt to flee would be futile and it would bring only sorrow.
Many people passed her by staring at her odd form of dress. It was not often you saw a teen wearing a thick Victorian styled dress with a thick cloak of grey. The deep and light blue of the dress making her seem all the more vivid among the more plain colours and manners of dress. Thick red curls hung down her back to her waist, secured away from her face with a grey ribbon. Her gloved hands stroked the harp again as she spell bound several of her fellow humans, luring them with pure words of warning.
"Graps the Iron that they fear,
Hold it high, they wont come near.
Flee the forest and keep away,
Else with the fairy you will stay.
Dance in their circle, twirl about,
Forget the world and your doubts.
Into their realm, into their halls,
You'll never see your own fall."
Strumming one last time she let the applause come and pass on as she started a purely musical piece. No one believed her. No one ever would, but still she tried. Tried to warn them away from the Fae. The other realm of magic and laws more dangerous than any human made weapon. Her own years had long passed by and by now she should be older. How old, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Her Lord had placed a spell upon her staying her aging, but not her needs. So, she came to the mortal world for his whims and gathered her own food which she took to the Fae realm. To eat Fae food was a risk she had yet to take and she was stubborn enough to avoid at all costs. Even if it meant living off of scraps if her Lord thought her in the wrong.
Standing she wandered from the bench after gathering up her small bag of grocers that would keep. Trees soon surrounded her as she wandered deeper and further from the paths people usually took. The path became broke flagstones, overgrown with weeds and grasses. Standing before a great oak she touched the bark in reverence, a whorl on the tree rippled as her hand slid through it. Taking a step she was among the forest still and on the broken flagstone path but everything was reversed. Much like a mirror. Following the path once more she watched the birds above squawk and joust each other. Ravens, they were always playing, never fearing. It was a crime to kill them as they were favored by the Fall King. To kill a raven meant one would take it's place. Her Lord was just in his own way, if it was justice to trap one in such a form. More than once she had amused the thought of killing such a bird. Perhaps her life would be... better in it's own way. But no- the Fae Lord would know and her hope would be shattered. He was a just Lord, but this justice was not to be taken lightly.
Eyes that were shrouded in darkness studied the pool before him, casting his fell voice upon the wind. "Ready the Hunt." His voice was a dark, velvet purr, as several Fae blinked gleaming eyes before disappearing. Gesturing with two fingers, the pool changed to show the meeting place of the Fae Rulers. The grounds where peace would be born, or more war. He looked bemused at the standing stones of England. How long had it been since they first were place in their ancient resting place? How long had they been channeling the ancient magics, powered by the mortals that once worshiped there? Powering the gate for the Fae, entering the Fae world at their own whim. The peace talks would begin shortly, but he predicted the ever caring of Spring would arrive first, followed by Winter or Summer. Tegvan- or 'Falk' as the Fair Folk referred to him- had already decided to arrive last. Alone. His hunt and hounds would gather and prepare themselves, and there was little need. A predatory smile flickered across his 'fae' features. None dared to attack him, the fact was arrogant but true. His great hall held the proof in the shadows and still pools. In the bones and hides he sat upon. In the falls that thundered behind him. Oh, this little peace talk would amuse him to no end.
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The sun moved easily through thick grey clouds. Rain had either come and gone or was on the way, a dreary and beautiful day. Grey eyes studied the clouds and scattered rays of light piercing them. Her hands moved along a small lap-harp compelling notes from the thin silver strings. A musical instrument she had learned over the years, it had been a stout friend to her. It was sung from a great tree and carved with breathe taking detail, nothing less would do for "She who was born of ashes". The notes sharped in anger, they had forbidden her name, her very lovely name because name had power. Her fair face bared a blank expression of sorrow as she sat upon the park bench. A small escape into the mortal world for a slight time. Her Lord had sought something from this Realm so she was sent to fetch it, to attempt to flee would be futile and it would bring only sorrow.
Many people passed her by staring at her odd form of dress. It was not often you saw a teen wearing a thick Victorian styled dress with a thick cloak of grey. The deep and light blue of the dress making her seem all the more vivid among the more plain colours and manners of dress. Thick red curls hung down her back to her waist, secured away from her face with a grey ribbon. Her gloved hands stroked the harp again as she spell bound several of her fellow humans, luring them with pure words of warning.
"Graps the Iron that they fear,
Hold it high, they wont come near.
Flee the forest and keep away,
Else with the fairy you will stay.
Dance in their circle, twirl about,
Forget the world and your doubts.
Into their realm, into their halls,
You'll never see your own fall."
Strumming one last time she let the applause come and pass on as she started a purely musical piece. No one believed her. No one ever would, but still she tried. Tried to warn them away from the Fae. The other realm of magic and laws more dangerous than any human made weapon. Her own years had long passed by and by now she should be older. How old, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Her Lord had placed a spell upon her staying her aging, but not her needs. So, she came to the mortal world for his whims and gathered her own food which she took to the Fae realm. To eat Fae food was a risk she had yet to take and she was stubborn enough to avoid at all costs. Even if it meant living off of scraps if her Lord thought her in the wrong.
Standing she wandered from the bench after gathering up her small bag of grocers that would keep. Trees soon surrounded her as she wandered deeper and further from the paths people usually took. The path became broke flagstones, overgrown with weeds and grasses. Standing before a great oak she touched the bark in reverence, a whorl on the tree rippled as her hand slid through it. Taking a step she was among the forest still and on the broken flagstone path but everything was reversed. Much like a mirror. Following the path once more she watched the birds above squawk and joust each other. Ravens, they were always playing, never fearing. It was a crime to kill them as they were favored by the Fall King. To kill a raven meant one would take it's place. Her Lord was just in his own way, if it was justice to trap one in such a form. More than once she had amused the thought of killing such a bird. Perhaps her life would be... better in it's own way. But no- the Fae Lord would know and her hope would be shattered. He was a just Lord, but this justice was not to be taken lightly.