c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio raided a dark eyebrow at Aliseth’s pointed look. He watched the way the knot in his throat bobbed with each deliberate gulp. As his smile grew, his curiosity flared. What exactly had Aliseth acting like this? The mystery was positively tantalizing as Elio catalogued each peculiarity.

He was drinking, for one. Though of course Elio had already noted that, along with his churlish mood. Aliseth was a hardass that took his job too seriously, but that storm he’d brought with him when he’d entered the tavern was new. But there was more than just that — he’d been downright genial to the innkeeper, who was the most visibly blight-born person Elio had ever seen. And then there was his uniform — Elio’s eyes drifted over the stained cloth and dirty armor. The fabric was too dark to make out what he was stained with, and the dancing firelight made it difficult to identify what marred his armor. And those furtive looks he kept throwing about… Elio had the self control to keep from turning in his seat to try and find whatever it was that the other man had spotted. Instead, he kept his attention on Aliseth, bringing his amber eyes back up to his.

“I was saying,” Elio replied, voice easy as ever, “that something crawled up your ass and I wasn’t invited.” Elio turned in his seat to lean back against the bar, propping his elbows atop the smooth wood. “Trying to make me jealous?” he needled. “If you want me in cuffs so badly, all you had to do was ask.” Elio’s smile was cheeky, even as he looked away from Aliseth to scan the tavern. What exactly had the guard seen to make his face so dark? He paused when his gaze landed on something — someone.

Well there’s a suspect.

Perhaps the innkeeper wasn’t the most inhuman looking blight-born in town. This new one was certainly a contender. Skin so grey it was nearly lavender, four blank, glowing eyes, wings, horns, black ooze… Was it a competition? Did they all get together before the blight to brainstorm ideas on how to look absolutely fucked?

A tail. That was interesting. Elio wondered how prehensile it was.

He finally turned his attention back to Aliseth, like he’d never left at all.

“Then again, you look like you’ve already had a proper run-through today. What, he didn’t stay to cuddle? That what’s got you so sour?” Elio’s voice stayed light as he goaded Aliseth, waiting for a reaction.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Syraeia Leela @PrinceAlexus, Nesna @enmuni}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Amaya was seven years old, fear like ice in her veins, stopping her heart, as she threw her soaking, freezing body into her mother’s embrace.

She wasn’t crying. It felt like she should’ve been crying. All she knew was terror and desperation and ice. But she couldn’t breathe deep enough. Her lungs spasmed from the shock and cold, and her voice was locked away. What would’ve been tear tracks lining her face were instead crystals of ice and salt, so cold they seemed to pierce her skin. She tried to bury herself in her mother’s arms, thoughtless to how she soaked through the fine fabric of her coat. All that mattered was her mother — alive, and warm, and all the love that Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Ice crawled along her skin like a virus. It froze her wet hair into dark icicles, made her clothing a cast around her tiny body. Her mother whispered to her as she huddled close. Amaya couldn’t hear what she was saying. There was only the music of her voice, soft and familiar. There was only –

The pond.

Amaya was ripped from her mother’s arms,

into the water. She didn’t feel the impact. She’d never left the water at all — she’d always been there, floating. She was the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. She was the heart of a fresh snowflake, a matrix of crystals born from her body and crawling

out

o....u....t

o........u........t

in all directions as if to touch every corner of the water. It cocooned her. It filled her. And all she could do was turn it to ice around her.

Amaya knew she was going to die here, in this pond. Even when she was numb and frantic and still so young, she knew.

It was impossibly deep. Amaya had known this pond her entire life – the circumference, when it would freeze each year, the way the willow tree on its shore cast wisping shadows across its surface. But she’d never known how deep it was. Or how easily its icy surface could shatter. Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the pond,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

Some part of her, the part that was no longer a child but frozen all the same, knew what would come next: a flurry of hands and shouts as her body was wrenched from the water — frigid air stabbing into her lungs like welcome knives — the warmth of her mother’s arms. But when Amaya looked up, it wasn’t the guards or attendants, or even her mother that she saw beyond the water.

It was her father.

The stark canvas of his face, all silver and rippling shadow, glared down at her like the moon itself. The pond’s surface shattered like glass as King Jericho reached down and grabbed Amaya by the throat. Thick, calloused fingers squeezed, and suddenly it didn’t matter if she was surrounded by water or ice or air, because she’d never breathe again. He was fury. He was frost. He was all the hate Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Suddenly desperate to survive, Amaya opened her mouth and screamed beneath the water. A flurry of bubbles escaped her as she flailed. Little hands clawed uselessly at her father. Tears escaped her only to mix with the pond, unseen. She kicked and scratched, but Jericho was too much — he’d always been too much for her to ever stand against.

Amaya thrashed with clumsy limbs. Her vision tunnelled. Midnight creeped around the edges of her world until all that was left was her father’s rage. The grip around her throat tightened as she fought, nails digging into the soft flesh. Then the hand pulled.

Forced through the surface of the water, Amaya was a woman again. Frigid air stabbed into her skin like wicked knives. Her limbs, heavy with ice, tried to find some purchase, a way to steady herself as she dangled from the iron grip around her throat. She scratched and writhed, eyes squeezed shut against cruel reality, like she could hold off inevitability if she simply refused to see it.

Some part of her, the part that was still a child but fighting all the same, knew what would come next: her final, desperate gasps – her body growing limp – the embrace of the water below. All that had ever mattered was Jericho and his will. And he had decided long ago that Amaya was nothing.

But when Amaya opened her eyes, it wasn’t her father that she saw.

It was Sir Abel.

Not as she’d seen him all her life, a quiet specter haunting her as she’d moved through the palace. No, this was Abel as she’d last seen him – visceral and alive and dying.

His face was a bloody, half-formed mask of sundered flesh and flashing bone. The skin had been ripped away starting from his cheekbones, revealing thin, flayed layers of fat and muscle. His eyes – his eyes, filled with so much hate and rage they froze Amaya’s blood – were crimson with burst blood vessels. The bottom lid of one of them had been completely ripped away with the rest of his skin, revealing the curve of his eyeball in its socket. Tattered cords of muscle and pulsing veins draped down his face until there was nothing but stark, stained bone, dripping with blood. Amaya watched him gnash his yellow teeth, the naked muscles of his jaw flexing, the flash of a bloody tongue in the space that should’ve been covered by his cheek. Blood poured down his neck, shredded flaps of skin hanging over his saturated armor.

Behind him lay a body, collapsed in the snow. It was turned away from her – but Amaya knew that slender hand, covered in blood. She knew that hair, silver and shining like the moon.

Terror wrapped itself around Amaya’s lungs and tightened. She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs. There was only the sound of her stuttering heart. It begged, no, no, no, no, no because Amaya couldn’t lose her, she couldn’t –

Sir Abel’s nails cut into the skin of Amaya’s neck with how tightly he gripped her. She barely registered the pain. It was hard to notice anything beyond the fear and ice. Desperation forced her to move, though. Her hands clawed at his wrist as she tried to kick, but it was no use. The ice in her blood was turning to lead as her vision faded in and out. All the while Sir Abel watched her with bloody, accusing eyes.

Her pulse slowed.

Her fingers slipped away from his arm to fall limply to her sides.

And when she finally slipped away, Sir Abel’s skin under her nails, her mother’s blood in her veins, her father’s hate dictating the story of her life…

She wondered how much Amaya there’d ever been at all.

The water welcomed her back with a crushing embrace. It wrapped around her body, filling her lungs as her lips parted. But it wasn’t the frigid pond that she’d fallen into… salt met her tongue and drifted over her skin to hide the tracks of her tears. A gentle current drifted through her hair, lifting it away from her face. The frost that had clung to her so stubbornly had no choice but to melt.

When Amaya finally opened her eyes, ice met the green sea. There was no coldness, no fight, just… patience. Sadness. A vastness and depth that would swallow Amaya up, if she let it. The water offered itself to her, if only she was brave enough to welcome it.

For the first time in her life, Amaya felt weightless. Held by the water, she let herself float. And when she looked up she saw the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. Its gentle light whispered to her as the ocean pressed warmth back into her skin.

There was no ice in her veins.

No fear.

She closed her eyes and melted into the water’s embrace. She did not feel brave. Or strong. Or Wise. But perhaps, just for this moment, that wasn’t required of her. She could simply be.

Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the ocean,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

---

_{Location: The Royal Cabin}

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Reality trickled back to Amaya, drop by drop. A familiar cologne wrapped around her like an embrace, even as she winced against the pain and exhaustion that still seeped through her like melted snow. And when her eyes finally fluttered open and her vision focused enough for her to realize who she was seeing…

Ice met the sea.

She breathed out a single word.

“Flynn…”

It was the first time she’d ever called him by his name.

---

_{Interactions: Flynn Astaros @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio’s smile widened as she leaned in, her eyes bright with challenge. Her words were sharp, even as she played the game with him, measured the silence, charged the air. He watched the way the firelight danced in her eyes like mischief.

“Maybe what helps you helps me.” His voice was lower, as molten as his gaze. He watched the way her fine scarf rippled under her touch, soft and bright. Her delicate fingers – with just a hint of dirt on them – captured his attention again.

When she finally reached forward, those fingers curling around the bottle just below his own, he locked eyes with her again. His muscles tensed ever so slightly in anticipation. His smile revealed a sharp canine tooth, as his eyebrow raised. His grip tightened against the neck of the bottle, his finger brushing hers for a moment. Her words were a liquor all their own, and Elio drank them in. Her soft voice, her focused gaze… he leaned forward, tugging the bottle – and her hand with it – ever closer to his body.

But when she pulled back, bottle in hand, he offered no resistance. The ozone in the air snapped away as she sat back in her seat, breaking their connection. Bold thing, she didn’t even flinch as she took a swig from bottle.

Elio dropped back into his chair and laughed. It was warm and amused, a departure from all his sly smiles and weighted looks. When he looked back at the woman across the table, it was to reevaluate.

He hadn’t missed the way she’d clammed up around the innkeep – or how she seemed to be actively fortifying her nerves right now, even as she looked at him with a challenge in her gaze, those full lips still glistening with alcohol. Her grip was tight around the bottle. He thought of that dirt under her nails again. He wondered if she had callouses, too.

Well done.

Movement over her shoulder caught Elio’s eye. He glanced up. That woman from before, the dancer, had found a table. All done with her bard, it seemed. The man in question had returned a good deal earlier, striking up the music once again. And now the dancer was sat all alone, a melancholic look on her face. Tryst hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, then? He watched her force a smile on her face in time for the innkeep to slither to her table. His view was cut off, though when the door opened and a familiar figure all but stomped into the building – Aliseth. Curiosity bloomed in Elio’s chest like a stain on a fresh sheet. He was in a mood. And weren’t all the guards on duty?

Elio watched Aliseth shove his way through the rowdy tavern crowd. Then he was out of sight.

He refocused on the woman in front of him. Smile never faltering, he slipped back into their game like he’d never left.

“Once again, you mistake me. When did I say pride was a fault?” He took a moment to look away from her again, as though he were weighing something in his mind. “As long as you’ve got something worthy of that pride,” he amended. Elio put his hand on the table, fingers splayed wide as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“A skill.”

He took a languid step, fingers dragging along the worn grain of the wood.

“A trade.”

Moving along the table, he watched as the firelight wove gold into her fiery hair. He watched the light ripple over her fine scarf. But most of all, he watched her eyes – how the shifting colors darkened as his shadow moved over her, blocking the lanterns.

“A claim.”

He’d walked all the way to her side of the table now, standing so he was nearly behind her. The hand that he’d been dragging along the table continued its path to the bottle. Calluses scratched over the back of her palm, over her slender fingers, as his hand warmed the space above hers. His fingers curled around the bottle, now stolen twice over.

“You got anything like that? Aside from a talent for assumption and a pretty smile?” Elio bet he’d still be able to taste the alcohol on her lips.

He leaned down, his chest to her back. He didn’t touch her – not there, at least – but it was still close enough to feel the warmth coming off of her. When his head was level with hers, he spoke.

“You ever need a new pedestal to perch yourself on, ask for the stonemason.” Elio’s voice was low and molten, like flickering embers. He moved just a bit closer, close enough to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. He wondered if that was heat crawling up her neck, or just the dim glow of the fire. His breath pushed at strands of her hair. He smirked and murmured into her ear, “I promise my pride is earned.”

Elio lifted the drink from the table and took one last pull before placing it back in front of her. He savored the burn as it went down. Then he straightened to his full height.

“Enjoy your drink,” he said, mirth in his voice. He gave her one last look.

Then Elio turned and made his way through the tavern crowd.

There wasn’t much weaving he had to do. Elio was large enough, and moved with enough authority that most automatically made space for him. Or perhaps he just claimed the space for himself. Either way, the result was the same – Elio stepped through the crowd that parted and reformed around him as he made his way towards the bar. His eyes honed in on the one he’d been searching for: Aliseth, dropped on a barstool, drinking.

Well, Elio decided, now he had to know what this was about.

Armando was in the stool next to him (why was this guy fucking everywhere) speaking with yet another unfortunate woman. Elio caught his eye and leveled him with a look. The conversation stopped immediately and the spineless fop made himself scarce before Elio was even within a meter of him.

Elio dropped into the newly vacated seat next to Aliseth.

“Aliseth Kain, drinking on the job.” He sounded almost scandalized. “Dunno whether to be proud or disappointed. Wearing you down was half the fun.” He cast a look over to the guard, taking in his stormy demeanor and the less than sparkling state of his uniform.

“Y’look like shit.”

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_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia, Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia shrank back from Dyna’s hard look – she knew this look. It wasn’t often that she saw it, but it stabbed at her with a familiar hurt all the same. Dyna, cold and sharp as steel, walled herself off where Tia couldn’t reach her so that she could do what needed to be done. But there was something different to it this time. The edge in her gaze seemed a little harsher. The grip on Tia’s hand seemed more clinical. Something had changed.

Well, Tia supposed, many things had changed.

She could only step to the side and watch as Dyna arrested Gadez. Staff still planted on the ground, Tia moved closer to it, her other hand curling around the wooden haft. It wasn’t as if she could hide behind it – nor could it anchor her, with how carefully she had to hold it to keep from going off balance. But Tia moved around it like it had its own gravity.

Dyna announced her orders. Her armor clanked and rubbed against cloth as she moved. The fire crackled in the hearth. And throughout it all, Gadez was silent.

Then his eyes, pale as the moon and burning as the sun, opened. They found Tia. Her hands tightened around the smooth, worn grain of the weapon’s haft. A glance. A nod. A wink. And then Dyna and Gadez were gone. It seemed as though they’d taken all the air with them.

Tia was frozen in the center of the room, clinging to the staff. The little bowl of soup still rested atop her bedside table.

Her back to the door, Tia gave herself another breath to not be real.

_{She was a blinding moment in the quiet of eternity.}

Then she turned, staff still held in place, to face the others at her broken door: Ranni with her nervous confusion, the hulking man with the unfamiliar accent, and Céline – Céline.

Tia shrank back into her room, as though another inch or two of distance would be enough to protect Céline from her roiling emotions. The doctor wasn’t safe here, not while Tia’s own mind threatened to drown her. Tia tried to muffle her nerves. Meeting Rani’s eyes, she fixed a weak smile on her face. She knew it was unconvincing. She knew the younger woman would have worries and questions. Tia held her gaze, her smile tightening as she willed her sister to understand – It’s alright. Later.

Her eyes moved past her sister to look to Céline deeper in the temple. She looked back to Ranni and repeated the gesture.

Tia knew Ranni’s emotions were likely a jumble just as hers were. But she seemed to be holding it together better than Tia was at the moment, and Tia knew that if she got much closer to the doctor, her emotions would threaten to overwhelm her. It had been enough of a struggle to protect Céline from Tia’s latent anxiety in the week they’d spent together in the temple with Gadez. Their first meeting flashed in Tia’s mind – Céline, delirious and ill after absorbing the wayward turmoil of another person.

Between the two of them, Tia hoped that Ranni was the safer option to see to whatever the doctor needed. They’d been talking together just a moment ago, afterall.

Which just left the unkempt giant taking up the full width of the hallway. Both hands still holding the staff to keep it balanced, Tia gave a small, hesitant bow in greeting.

---

_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna and Ranni Soleil @Queen Arya, Céline Moreau, Ivor the Wild @SkeankySnack}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio smirked as he looked over at the woman – all pouting and puffed up like a displeased little bird. But her eyes stayed trained on him.

“You mistake me for a man of generous spirit,” he said lightly. He tilted the bottle so it balanced against the table along its bottom rim, spinning it lazily. The firelight danced through the amber glass, casting its glow against the wood. It matched the flickering light in his eyes. His posture never changed from the unbothered slouch. “Unfortunately I never had the chance to develop such benevolence. Too baseborn, y’see.”

Not like her.

Elio finally let his eyes drift over her fully. Her vibrant hair, the fine embroidery of her scarf, her expensive coat… she’d walked the short distance from the stairs to the table like she’d had a book placed upon her head. She looked at him now with confidence, if a bit of wariness (and interest, if he was feeling cocky (he was)). Everything about her screamed upper class (though, they didn’t do much screaming up there, did they? Too prim and proper to do much more than tut or trill. But Elio was willing to help the little bird find her voice, if she’d like).

But there – her hands. They were slim, delicate things, sitting atop her crossed arms. Thin lines of dirt sat beneath her nails, separating pink from white.

Elio met her gaze again, that amused, unbothered smile still on his face.

“Better to be selfish when you’ve got to work for what you have.” He wondered what would come first, her in his bed or a drink in his face. He really should order her one, he thought, just to make it more interesting. “I saw an opportunity, is all.”

Elio finally shifted in his seat, leaning forward. His muscles worked slow and easy beneath his shirt, pushing him closer to this highborn woman as he held her gaze. Elbows propped on the table, bottle held loosely in his workman’s hands, the corner of his mouth quirked up as his smile widened. The chaos of the bar seemed to dull to a hum as his attention narrowed to this woman and the way the firelight stained sunset across her features. Elio’s voice was low and conspiratorial as he murmured –

“I just can’t stand the prick who tried to sit here.”

Mirth danced in his eyes as he watched her. Then he leaned back to that familiar slouch, tipping his drink back into his mouth again.

Someone new slithered up to their table. Elio finally looked away from the woman to see the newly serpentine innkeeper greeting them, alcohol thick in the air around her. He raised an eyebrow. The tail was new, but Elio could at least recognize this Dawnhaven fixture, even if she didn’t know him. Had he really been so unremarkable in these last two months? There wasn’t a barkeep in the capital that didn’t know him on sight alone. A fair few had banned him.

Had he lost his touch? He’d simply have to do a better job making an impression.

He met her gaze with a smile as she eyed him (ha) and offered her greetings. Elio smiled as he raised his pilfered bottle up to the innkeep — not that she knew how he’d gotten it.

“I’m well familiar with your bar,” he said, voice smooth. He’d cut and laid the stone himself. He’d laid enough patrons out and laid the rest up. “Wonderful selection you have.”

And then she was gone again, and once again it was just the two at the table. Elio took another slow drink from his bottle, feeling the heat finally start to buzz under his skin. He watched the crowd.

“Say I did have a cure for whatever it is that ‘plagues’ you,” he said, still watching the other patrons. He tilted his head towards her, casting her a glance. Elio raised the bottle slightly towards her in offering – though she’d have to reach towards him to grab it.

“Proud thing like you… would you even take it?”

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_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia, Syraeia Leela @PrinceAlexus}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio savored the crisp winter air on his skin as he leaned against the pine tree and looked up at the moon. His partner — for the final time, he reminded himself — had long since scurried off to make herself presentable again. But Elio wasn’t quite ready to leave this afterglow yet.

Bathed in silver moonlight, he let out a long, slow breath. He hadn’t stopped smiling — not just from the sex, though that’d been enjoyable enough. It wasn’t just the knowledge that had his mood soaring either, though that was a delicious turn of events. Prince Flynn Astaros of Aurelia, founder of Dawnhaven, golden son of prophecy, and royal pain in his ass had a paramour. And a blight-born one at that. He wondered if his wife knew. Elio snorted to himself.

No, Elio was savoring the potential that filled him. That week indoors really had been torture. Elio was a man of action. He could feel it though — the whole town seemed to vibrate with energy, like the charged stillness right before a storm. The air promised an eruption. He didn’t know when, or how, but he could feel it building, and soon enough there would be a glorious storm to put himself in the middle of. Maybe he’d even have a hand in causing it.

Oh, what fun he would have. It really was good to be back.

When Elio finally reentered the tavern, he found it raucous and alive with music. His grin widened as he drank in the energy. Instruments were suspended in the air with enchanting golden light and patrons clapped along with drunk smiles and flailing dance moves. Elio scanned the crowd as he walked along the perimeter towards the bar. He wondered idly if this Nyla was still here. She’d sounded rather heartbroken by the end of the show outside. Perhaps she’d already hidden herself away to lick her wounds.

Perhaps she’d prefer someone else to lick them for her.

Elio trailed his eyes over the different blight-born women, as though he’d be able to tell which one he’d heard based on their face alone. But he paused though, when someone else caught his eye.

There, dancing in the middle of the crowd, was a woman. He could only glimpse her through the bodies, like catching strands of sunlight through a forest canopy. But how she shined. She danced with fluid, imprecise movements, all energy and joy as she spun. Her full lips parted in a laugh as she locked eyes with her partner — the blight-born musician, likely responsible for the enchanted instruments. The woman’s tanned skin, her dark, curling hair, her vibrant clothes — an Aurelian nomad, he realized. Or at least a descendant. His father’s line had supposedly come from one of the wandering nomad tribes, before settling in one place. But then, he supposed his father had taken to travel too, when he’d decided to leave Aurelia. And now here was Elio, miles from home himself. Not by choice, of course — the bitter pang of indignation shot through him at having been sent away. But still. He had traveled far to Dawnhaven. Just like her.

He watched the dancing woman through the crowd. Her bright eyes twinkled like stars. And for a moment, Elio was enraptured. There was nothing quite like watching someone in love with what they could do.

And then the song came to an end. The crowd soan to messy conclusions with their dances, erupting into laughter and applause. But the woman — she held the bard’s gaze with a soft smile and leaned in to whisper something. Elio watched her hand curl around his, tugging slightly towards the back door of the tavern.

He couldn’t help the soft huff of laughter. It seemed everyone was having the same idea today.

Finally allowing himself to move from his spot at the edge of the bar, Elio continued his path. The crowd was still distracted, still chattering and laughing as they came down from the high of the music.

So no one noticed him casually reach behind the bar as he walked, grabbing the first bottle his hand touched.

Elio lifted the bottle to his lips, biting down on the cork with his canines and yanking it out with a hollow pop. He spat the cork out towards the edge of the room and took a hearty swig. The burn and swirl of the alcohol filled him as he strode through the room — and his eyes caught the firelight glow of orange hair.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the tavern like she was lost. Slight, almost doll-like, she seemed pure and demure in a way that made him want to corrupt. And he’d always had a weakness for redheads.

She straightened her little scarf and marched into the tavern like she was going into battle. Elio raised an amused eyebrow. He could approach her. He was sated for now, and he didn’t specifically need to find a new partner immediately. And it wasn’t like it would be difficult to find one when the time came (say what you would about Astaros (and he did) but for some reason there was no shortage of beautiful, adventurous women in Dawnhaven). But a little flirting could be fun. And maybe he’d want to go after this one later. He could lay a foundation, as it were.

He watched the redhead move towards an empty table and perch herself delicately on a seat. Then a man started to approach her. Archibald… Augie… Elio didn’t know his damn name. All he knew was the man was annoying and had complained incessantly about the details of the stone wall he’d commissioned around his home.

And just like that, Elio’s decision was made (though, had it ever really been in question what he would decide?).

Elio strode towards the table just as the other man started to open his mouth and pull out the chair opposite the redhead. Elio casually reached up to grab the back of his collar and yanked. The chairlegs grunted on the floor as Anatole, or whoever, stumbled backwards with a yelp. Elio didn’t even slow his pace as he walked past him and dropped himself into the chair. He slouched into it, an arm over the chair back, the bottle held loosely in two fingers, his legs wide and feet planted on the floor. Elio looked up at the man as he tried to right himself. Face reddening, he opened his mouth, like he’d actually have a response to Elio. The mason just raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye.

Go on then, start something.

The man paused as Elio held his gaze. Then something seemed to wither in him. He didn’t even look at the redhead as he turned and marched away. Elio huffed, only slightly disappointed. Wouldn’t’ve been any real fun anyway.

Taking another sip of his drink, Elio took a moment to settle into his new chair, to take in the crowd from this new angle. The he glanced over at woman, like it was the first time he was taking her into account.

“You didn’t want him sitting here,” he said, the low thrum of his voice drifting over the table. He didn’t bother looking her over. Instead he just held those lovely hazel eyes with his. Elio brought the lip of the bottle to his mouth, savoring the burn of alcohol that spilled down his throat – something spiced, and fragrant, and far too pretty for a dump like this. He swallowed. Then he placed the bottle on the table and looked back out towards the crowd. “Spits when he talks. And he talks.” Arnold (fuck it, sure) was across the tavern already, trying his luck with some other woman. Poor thing was already flinching away from him. The corner of Elio’s mouth twitched up and threw another look to the woman across the table. “Would’ve had you fleeing back upstairs and you'd've missed all the fun.”

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_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse, Aldrick Corveaux@SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Tavern}

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After a week of being cooped inside, Elio Azkona had grown painfully, deliriously, bored. He intended to make this all of Dawnhaven’s problem. He was starting off slow, though. Measured. Moderated. The woman he currently had pinned against a tree wasn’t even married.

They were hidden in darkness, but for the light of the moon filtering through the pines that towered above them. Muffled sounds echoed from around the tree – the rowdiness of the tavern, the chattering voices of half the town gathered for some asinine celebration. Though his immediate instinct had been to buck at the summons that’d been placed on his door this morning, Elio had still been drawn towards the promise of people – of action.

He had his hand cupped around the back of the woman’s head, his fingers tangling her hair. His other hand had slipped into her coat, her buttons long undone. His arm curled around her waist, his hand flat against her back with only the thin fabric of her dress separating them. She clung to him as they kissed, her hands clawing at his back through his shirt. Elio hadn’t bothered with a coat – his blood had always run a little hotter than the average Lunarian’s. His hand in her hair tightened to a fist and he pulled down, forcing her to lift her chin. He drank in all her little sounds as he moved from her lips and down her neck.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this. No, Elio and this particular little morsel were getting familiar enough that he knew exactly when she was going to gasp and what it would sound like when he flexed his arm, pulling her tighter against him. He still couldn’t remember her name, though. Elio doubted she knew his – he hoped she didn’t know his. If she could still focus enough to remember his name, then he wasn’t doing a good enough job. But of course, maybe this was a losing battle – Elio was a difficult man to forget.

She was getting a bit attached, though. When they’d spotted each other from across the tavern, she’d lit up like she’d been searching for him. He’d met her smile with a wicked grin of his own, watching the way the firelight spun gold through her auburn hair. She’d slipped through the crowd towards the backdoor, and Elio had taken a swig of his drink. But he stayed where he was sat. He watched the crowd. This would likely have to be the last time with her, he decided. Disappointing.

He’d just have to make sure it was worth his while.

When Elio finally exited the tavern’s backdoor, he found her shivering in the snow, pert little nose red and her arms wrapped around herself. He’d barely looked at her as he’d wrapped a large hand around hers and tugged her towards the treeline. And when he’d spun abruptly to press her into the hard bark of the nearest pinetree, she’d gasped and giggled, and melted into him like he was a furnace.

All in all, not a bad way to reenter society.

That is, of course, until they heard the tavern door opening again.

They froze and Elio’s hand slipped out of her hair to cover her mouth. He locked eyes with the nameless woman, the energy between them buzzing like electricity. Her eyes were wide – but then he saw them start to crinkle with mischief. Elio’s lips lifted in a smirk. They stood frozen against each other as whoever had opened the door moved through the snow.

"Why are you here, Nyla?" Elio knew that voice – that irritating voice that belonged to the one person in town who had any real authority over him. Annoyance shot through him reflexively. Maybe they should continue their rendezvous, if only to give the little prick a show.

But something gave Elio pause – he didn’t just know that voice. He knew that tone. He’d heard it enough times from the lips of women, frantic to get him out the door when their husbands came home. Suddenly, Elio wanted nothing more than for the Prince to keep talking.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. I know I shouldn’t be...” Flynn. She called him by his name. She had an enchanting voice, smooth and expressive like velvet – Elio wanted nothing more than to look around the tree that hid them to see this woman who’d managed to make Astaros so panicked. Because whoever she was, she most definitely wasn’t his wife.

Elio’s eyebrow quirked up as he listened. The woman he held was breathing hard, her chest moving against him. Elio pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Slowly, he brought his hand from her lower back up, up, up, to grip around the nape of her neck. The coat strained against them, the added mass of his arm making the fabric tight. His other hand slipped away from her mouth, to trail down the line of her waist. He wondered what it would take to get her to make a sound loud enough for the other couple to hear.

“But, I… We… We can’t—”

Elio wanted to laugh. Yes, he knew that tone, too. He pressed a line of soft kisses down the woman’s face – her temple, her cheek, her jaw. By the time he was back at her neck, the little royal melodrama seemed to be winding down. Elio bit down at the woman’s pulse point, smothering her sharp gasp with his hand returning to her mouth. He smiled into her skin.

“...Each blight-born undergoes an interview..." Blight-born? Well well well… wasn’t that interesting.

It wasn’t long before he heard Astaros’ morose trudging through the snow. Then the door opened, and closed, and the show was truly over.

Elio pulled away from the woman’s neck. He finally let out a low, rumbling laugh as he looked up to the moon shining through the trees, silver and full. This really was too good. The moon seemed brighter, suddenly. The chill that bit at his cheeks was teasing, rather than scolding. And the untouchable Golden Prince had some dirt on him after all. Turning his attention back to the woman, Elio cupped her face in both hands, a thumb moving over the crest of her cheek.

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” he murmured. She looked back up at him, pupils blown wide and a tempting smile curling her lips. Elio captured her mouth in a kiss like he meant to consume her.

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_{Mentions: Flynn Astaros and Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the bright spots that danced in front of her vision. Even with her eyes closed and her sleeve as a barrier, the light from Dyna’s shield had been a formidable flash. Her arm lowered as Dyna’s commanding voice filled the room. Her heart still hammered in her chest as she tried to reorient herself. Somehow Gadez had ended up in front of her, and once again Tia found herself searching for Dyna’s eyes from behind his back.

Dyna was arresting him. Somewhere in her mind, Tia knew that this was the logical response – he’d spoken of treason so openly, so brazenly, and to a member of the clergy no less. But still, with her frantic swirl of thoughts, Tia was desperate to deescalate.

Gadez was talking now. His voice was unbothered as ever. His weapon landed on the floor with a graceless thud. He was… giving himself up? Her eyes snapped up to his smiling profile, stepping to the side so she wasn’t behind him anymore. His eyes were still closed. The slight tension he held around them was the only indication that he’d been affected by the light at all.

Dyna kicked his weapon away. Tia flinched at the sharp clatter. Her sister met her eyes, as if to confirm once again that she was unharmed. Then she looked down at the staff, and back up to Tia in a silent command. Because there was something Gadez was wrong about: Tia couldn’t overrule Dyna. Not when it came to matters of safety. Dyna might’ve deferred to Tia for most things, but once weapons were drawn, Dyna’s status as a Champion meant she was in charge.

Tia forced herself to leave Gadez’s shadow. With shaking hands she reached down to grasp it. It was longer than she was tall, with a simple wooden shaft and a wicked double edged blade. A metal ball was secured to the other end of the shaft, for balance presumably. The wood was smooth and worn where Tia wrapped her hands around it — and unmoving. Tia blinked, before hefting with more force. It was heavier than she’d expected. Memories of Gadez practicing with it swam through her mind, how fluid he’d seemed, like this mass of wood and cold metal had been an extension of him. It felt unwieldy in Tia’s hands, like one wrong move would send her toppling.

Slowly, carefully, she walked in an arc through the room to stand by Dyna’s side, facing Gadez. He was smiling still. How was he smiling? If Dyna had heard enough to arrest him… the punishment would be sharp. Panic was the blood running through Tia’s veins. Steadying the ball end of the weapon on the ground, she placed her free hand softly on Dyna’s arm. Tia leaned in, angling her chin up to whisper voicelessly in her ear. It was nothing but enunciated air, her throat still raw and burning.

‘He’s confused.’ That had to be it, right? The things he’d claimed about the blight, Aelios, her…

His face flashed in her mind — how softly he’d looked at her. How plainly he’d declared that he wasn’t a danger to her, like it was as true as the ticking of the clock.

‘He’s… unwell.’ Tia’s grip tightened on Dyna’s arm as she pulled back. She tried to catch the Champion’s gaze, to silently ask for understanding.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Doubt crept into her mind as Gadez reached around her to close the door fully, and invited her to sit on her own bed. All the while, his gaze was still gossamer soft as he wrapped her in his words. She was safe with him – but his lack of boundaries had always been a bit disorienting. He was forward in ways that mostly seemed harmless, but Tia now found herself wondering if she should’ve been firmer with him. If perhaps… he misunderstood their relationship.

But he met her eyes with that smile that was so tender – like she was something to be protected and nurtured. It sent her heart rate skipping.

Tia hesitated, her back to the closed door, her eyes watching him as he moved about her room like it was his own. She didn’t know what to do – so she defaulted to following orders, as always. Tia walked to her bed and perched herself on the edge of the mattress, too nervous to relax into it. To her immense relief, he did not join her.

Still, there was that feeling of standing at a precipice – of waiting for something to push her over the edge so she could finally stop this balancing act and welcome whatever shattering impact was awaiting her. He held a spoonful of soup out to her, an act both intimate and infantilizing. But Tia was too off-kilter to protest. Her hand raised to grab the handle of the spoon, her fingers brushing his. She tried to focus on the flavor of the broth, the tenderness of the meat and vegetables, so she wouldn’t have to think about how very warm she suddenly felt. Then he released the spoon and turned away, and it was like she could breathe again. Tia swallowed the soup down. The ceramic bowl seeped heat into her palm.

And then he began to talk.

And talk.

Tia could only sit on her bed, trapped by his words that seemed to wrap around her like binding cloth. They layered themselves over her, tight and heavy, constricting her. The world seemed to muffle. Her breathing quickened. Tia’s mind spun in a frantic buzz of confusion with each bold new claim.

Her scar was evidence of the Goddesses’ existence.

She’d been sent to Dawnhaven so the Arch Priest could be rid of her.

The blight was divine.

She housed the soul of Aelios.

She was a Seer.

The blizzard had been an attack on her rather than an act of nature.

He was the bastard son of King Auric.

The blight needed to persist.

He wanted to depose the Aurelian King.

Tia’s heart stopped. What he was saying… nevermind the outlandish nature of some of his claims, he was suggesting treason. Tia could barely make sense of the flood of information he’d dropped at her feet like a cat with a rat carcass.

But most perplexing of all… he swore to protect her. This was the second time today that a man had looked her in the eye and declared that she was someone who needed protection – that she was worth protection. And again, the same question echoed in her mind: protection from whom?

Tia stared up at Gadez – Halcyon – with wide, helpless eyes. She suddenly felt that she didn’t know him at all. Flashes of their week together darted through her mind. The stories he’d told her. The way he’d enjoyed startling her as she read, only to offer her a cheeky smile and a steaming cup of tea. How just this morning, he’d placed a hand against her cheek with a touch so gentle and warm it might’ve been an embrace.

He was bowing to her, still looking at her with those ghostly eyes. Only the crackling of the fire filled the space around them. His request hung in the air – because this had all been a request, hadn’t it? A declaration of his intentions, so that she might give him an answer he longed to hear.

Her heart beat in her chest like a frantic bird struggling in a too small cage.

Moving was like forcing herself back to life. She placed the soup bowl and spoon, barely touched, onto the bedside table. The movement was too jerky. Soup splashed over the side, dripping on her hand and the wood. But Tia didn’t notice. She was on her feet and stepping towards the man, whoever he was. She closed the distance with a desperate hand reaching out to touch his arm. Tia didn’t understand what was happening, what had led them to this point, but she needed to –

The door to Tia’s room slammed open, the impact like a crack of thunder. Her hand snapped away from him, to fist in front of her chest. Tia jumped, spinning to look. A figure stood in the doorframe, all shining armor and eyes that burned with blue fire. Tia met Dyna’s gaze, confusion and panic still clear on her face.

But this wasn’t her little sister – this was her Champion. And apparently she had decided it was time to get to work.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia peered around Gadez’s form at the sound of Dyna’s voice, her blunt tone distinguishing her from her sister. Where was Ranni? Was she alright? Had Dyna seen that awful vision, too? With the narrow hallway so crowded, Tia couldn’t see into the temple’s body.

She paused though, when she heard the soft tone of Gadez’s voice. Her eyes flicked back up to him. He had turned his head to look over his shoulder at Dyna, addressing her with a voice that was… almost subdued. Tia blinked up at him. Gadez was a man who usually seemed to thrum with latent energy, eager to spring to life and patient enough to capture the perfect moment. He was many things — brazen, mischievous, oddly considerate… but Tia had never before seen him so muffled. He turned back to face her, and Tia’s lips parted when she saw something completely foreign in his pale eyes:

Hesitation.

It was a flicker. Then it was gone, so quickly it might’ve just been the reflection of Tia’s own nerves staring back at her. He stepped closer, with a murmuring voice and a proffered… soup container?

Tia couldn’t help herself. Her lips quirked into a bemused smile as she looked at it. Something softened in her, the tensions of the day growing hazy.

Oddly considerate, indeed.

She met his gaze again. She couldn’t thank him with the state of her voice, but she gave a warm smile. It faltered when he sought entrance to her room. This was the second man in less than an hour. The nuns she grew up with would’ve been positively scandalized. The Prince requesting privacy to talk with her (to interrogate her, she corrected with no small amount of shame) was one thing. But Gadez… Well, it wasn’t as if he’d never been in her room. And if he intended to be ungentlemanly, he’d already had plenty of opportunity when they’d been snowed in for a week. And… he’d brought her soup.

But he spoke of answers. Of Aelios. Answers to what? She searched his eyes as her mind spun.

Did… did he somehow know about her visions?

Her heartbeat seemed louder in her ears. Tia hesitated for another moment. Then she stepped to the side, her arm raised slightly to invite him in. There wasn’t much room to move in the hallway — Tia pressed herself against the wall to try and give him room as his larger frame crossed the threshold of her room.

She didn’t follow him in, though. Tia met Dyna’s eye, finally unobstructed. She turned back to Gadez, holding up a hand to signal him to wait. Then she moved to her sister. Curling a hand around one of Dyna’s, Tia looked around her shoulder to try and spot Ranni. More voices echoed through the air, weaving through the crackle of Aelios’ flame. There was Ranni’s, and the other… Tia realized with a start that she recognized that voice, too.

Dr. Céline stood with Ranni, along with an absolute mountain of a man. Tia took a moment to observe them. Despite the vision she’d had, Ranni didn’t seem distressed. But Tia knew that didn’t mean much — as priestesses they’d been trained to mask their own troubles when performing their duties. Tia had just never been very good at it. That Dr. Céline was speaking with her though…

She’d been Tia’s other guest during the storm. She was kind and intelligent, but there had been a few near-misses with her empathic abilities. If Ranni was really experiencing something, the doctor probably wouldn’t have been upright. Had the vision not been from Ranni? Tia’s eyebrows drew together as she watched them.

Finally deciding that at least Ranni wasn’t in any immediate danger, Tia looked back to Dyna.

Fierce, stalwart Dyna. Ever the protector, making herself responsible for their safety. Tia knew it was ingrained in her — the vigilance, the need to protect the few people she still had. Tia couldn’t imagine what it’d been like to witness her twin go into the blight — to not have gone with her. Her heart clenched as she looked up at the Champion. Dyna was taller than her. Stronger. Technically in charge of her safety. But Tia was still older. It was still her responsibility to care for the twins.

Tia’s hand tightened around hers. With her other hand, she reached up to briefly touch Dyna’s cheek and give her a smile that she hoped was comforting. Tia glanced back over her shoulder to see Gadez in the flickering firelight of her room. She turned to look at Ranni, the picture of calm as she spoke with Dr. Céline and her companion.

Looking back up at Dyna, she slowly mouthed the words, ‘Stay with Ranni.’

Tia wasn’t in any danger with Gadez. But if that vision had come from Ranni, Tia didn’t want her alone. She didn’t want her to feel alone.

‘Be out soon.’

Tia wasn’t certain that was a promise she could keep. Gadez was unpredictable at the best of times. But something about his soft voice, his hesitation… Tia felt on the precipice of something. Whatever it was he had to discuss with her, something told her it wouldn’t be a quick conversation. But she tried to give Dyna a reassuring smile, and another quick squeeze of her hand.

Then she stepped away and walked back into her room. Tia pulled the door shut behind her, leaving it ajar. Perhaps those old nuns had left an impression on her, after all. Hands clasped behind her back, Tia looked back to Gadez. The fire warmed the room, stray embers glowing like fireflies.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya
Mention: Ranni Soleil, Céline Moreau, and Ivor the Wild @SkeankySnack}