[color=orange][h1]Falk[/h1][/color]

The Fall King growled deep in his throat. His eyes gleamed like a whirling storm, as the chair groaned under the grip of his claw like hands. "Spring will answer to nothing but a blade and fire. That [i]Mara[/i], that nightmare twisted Spring King..." His voice was crackling with ragged energy. The wind muttered with a angry forewarning. That mara, that nightmare King was a slap in his face. A smear upon his reputation as king. He stood, pacing along the misty domain of his falls. Spring was a dangerous enemy. For it was luck that bought Nyx his throne and chance that his little lover was Queen afore him. It had been a blessing that the two had not been so fully allied, else he would have unleashed his hell upon the two and all his plans would have been for naught. For while he held power before him, they had held something else.

The Fae of old had walked the world in assured peace and prosperity. It had been a fools hope and dream and one he was not keen to repeat. So his held his armies, held the Fae in the sway of his will and in a sway of mortality like living. Perhaps the mortality would save his Fair folk their lives when the time came, or perhaps it would spare them his fury. Tegvan was still unsure of his own lines upon the ancient debate that had first split the Fae when he was naught but a child. Those memories long lost and buried under the ancient mists that clouded his mind and the loss that harmed his heart.

[color=green][h1]Aisling[/h1][/color]

-WIP-