Cedar instinctively made a small gesture at the sight of the ring - a clenched fist held for a half-second in front of his throat, then with his index and middle finger extended. Cedar did not consider himself superstitious, but he had lived most his life with people who were, and certain habits had rubbed off.
"Yeah, clingy exes can be a real danger," he joked, though his voice had a bit of a hollow ring to it. His mask concealed any expression, but underneath his brow was furrowed. This on top of everything else today - Rest in peace, Ruskali, ran through his head quickly - was either a very unlucky coincidence or somehow related. Either way, it fell under their jurisdiction to do something about it. This isn't quite how I imagined my first day would be, he thought.
"I guess we should call this in to Archer. It's been.... very hectic so far, and maybe she can make some sense of this." Cedar didn't mention that he also wanted to call Archer because the adrenaline rush going away had left Cedar practically shaking with some sort of exhaustion. He turned to Iris. Had she always been that tall? Their meeting earlier already felt like a distant memory. "Unless you feel up to moving it yourself. Personally, I'd rather not touch it."
Cedar accepted the drone controller from Fluke wordlessly. Had they actually upset Fluke somehow, or did Fluke merely tire of talking? Cedar didn't particularly feel like asking at the time, so he just checked the camera feed. The sight of the corpse didn't even really shock him. Today was weird enough already, so what trouble was a corpse thrown on top of today's heap? After fiddling with the controls for a bit, Cedar deduced which alley the body was in specifically (the one Cedar had fought the Nox in - so the same body the armadillo had been poking at. At least it wasn't some extra corpse on top of everything else) and also that Iris seemed to be investigating it already.
Before he moved to return to the alley, he looked back to Ruskali. Was Cedar really saddened at the man's newfound emptiness? Well, a little, but mostly he was frustrated - Ruskali represented a loss. Somewhere along the mission lines Cedar had missed a step or made a bad choice. Maybe if he hadn't panicked fighting the Nox. Maybe if he'd been faster reaching Ruskali. However he failed, he knew that he could have been more efficient. He turned away from the body as the healers moved in.
On the way to the alley, Cedar's mind wandered to the second, arguably larger, topic in his thoughts - the voice in his head. He'd heard it more - laughing, talking, whatever it was doing. Cedar didn't know what it wanted or what it was, but the best approach to the situation was staying calm. Maybe it can read my thoughts as well? Uh.... hello, Voice. Who are you? What do you want? Cedar immediately felt embarrassed, even if no one (except possibly the voice) could hear him thinking so absurdly.
He turned the corner to see Iris inspecting the corpse up close. Iris hadn't responded to the earlier message through the comms, but nothing dangerous was going on here, anyway.
"Iris. Find anything valuable?" Cedar said hesitantly. Was he interrupting the inspection? Ah, whatever.
Simon had, amidst all the... drama, frozen like a deer in the headlights. So Josip was pretty obviously a hunter and the other man - someone who he'd mostly heard called 'DarnDarn' but whose real name Simon believed was Darnies - was, for lack of better words, escalating the situation. Well, Josip technically escalated first, but regardless. Simon didn't really know what Darnies was - Simon always felt it impolite to ask, and didn't know the man well anyway - but clearly was ready to employ some dangerous magicks of some sort if the situation were to escalate further. Hell, he could feel the energy coming off the man from where he was standing.. The hunter likely wouldn't do anything rash - surely not with so many obvious enemies here? - but Simon felt like he had to intervene.
"I-I'm sure my friend here realizes he should leave," Simon said. He heard his own voice skip on the first word and winced. First rule of the glamour - alway appear confident, and if possible, beconfident. He could feel the glamour weakening already - the hunter was clearly confident himself, suspicious of everyone here, and Simon had obviously tried to cover for a vampire. The glamour wasn't gone, but Simon would have to work to keep the man under his influence.
Stepping out of the bar slowly, his hands up nonconfrontationally, he continued, "With so many of you in there and just us out here, what could he possibly do?" The wording was a risk - not the bit where he was outnumbered, which was obviously true, but the you and us parts. Simon was not on the Hunter's side and he was Fae, but not including himself with the supernaturals inside and instead with the hunter was meant to be a little more comforting for the man. Of course, if he saw the hypocrisy of the statement, he would likely become more suspicious, thus weakening the glamour more, but gambling wasn't about taking the safe choices.
Taking another step towards the hunter, Simon added, "And besides, let's be honest - none of us want to cause a scene right now. It wouldn't end well for either side, really." Maybe not a guaranteed fact, but stating it like a fact could help the glamour convince the man that it was. Of course, the glamour wasn't just to convince the man of this at this point; it was to convince those in the bar as well. Simon was close enough that if the man did try anything he would likely be the closest target. Did Simon have anything to defend himself with? No. Had Simon killed men with his bare hands before? Yes, but it had been a long time, and he'd rather not pick up that particular sport again.
Simon wasn't quite sure why he was defending the hunter. Killing him was technically the most straightforward way to ensure the bar and its patrons' identities were secure. On the other hand, hunters often worked in groups or at least kept in contact with other hunters. If this one went missing here, it was entirely possible that it would only bring more pressure. On the other hand, letting him leave alive would 100% bring pressure, so that wasn't really a valid reason. Simon had to be honest with himself; it was because he was Fae, and Fae are curious and arrogant. He could smell old Fae scents on the man, but judging by his speech and choice of target, plus the fact he evidently hadn't met many Fae since, he was likely a vampire hunter, not a fae one. How had this man - a hunter, known a Fae?
The purpose of the introduction was simple; to get a name. There were two main ways to influence a fae's glamour; words and truth. The first was more common - get someone to say 'thank you', get someone to make a deal, get someone to owe you, and the glamour gets stronger. In those cases, it didn't matter if they meant it when they said 'thank you' or if they intended to carry out the deal - just getting them to say it gave the fae power.
The second one, the truth, gave power in more ways than one. A fae's glamour could waver in strength depending on certain truths, regardless if spoken aloud. Confidence and belief, for instance - if the fae was confident and the listener wasn't already suspicious, the glamour worked best, while a nervous fae speaking to a skeptical audience would be considerably weaker. Even if a nervous fae acted confident or a suspicious target acted gullible, the glamour would weaken, because in this case the glamour depends on the truth of their feelings, not how they present themselves. Using this, a fae can discern certain truths, such as if someone is lying about if they believe the fae, based on if the fae actually feels his glamour grow stronger. However, in this way a fae who begins to doubt the effectiveness can cause his glamours to weaken, and upon feeling them weaken can doubt even more, and so on until the glamour is essentially dispelled.
One thing that worked with both truth and words was the name. For a fae to be able to use a person's true name to strengthen their glamour against them, it needed to be gifted, in a sense. It had to be said out loud, but it also needed be true for the effect to work. Luckily, most humans never bother hiding their true name, and those that do are generally not up to any good.
So when 'Josip Dragnov' introduced himself, Simon could tell it wasn't, at least, his true name. But that wasn't all he felt with his glamour.
As soon as the man looked over at him and stopped mid-sentence, Simon felt his glamour laying its hooks into him. It was a rush, the oldest and most familiar familiar form of intoxication Simon had. In the Hunt, the rush came whenever he was in pursuit or had his prey at his mercy; that familiar feeling of fae superiority, of knowing with every fiber of your being that your prey is dancing to your tune, that you are holding their strings. Of course, Simon knew now that fae weren't quite as superior as he used to think, and that the high of the glamour is what made many fae cruel. But he also knew just how manipulative a fae could be if they knew how to play the game right, so he pressed on.
The man called him 'familiar' and took in the glamour rather quickly, which made Simon curious. The scent from before - perhaps a fae had metaphorically softened him up before? But his lack of overt suspicion made him doubt it. Maybe he hadn't known they were fae? It would explain his fae-touched scent and lack of defenses against glamours. If he was a hunter - which the fake name seemed to imply - he at least wasn't a hunter of fae, or else he likely would've been more cagey about introducing himself and wouldn't have accepted Simon's offered cigarette (though in this case Simon was legit just sharing a smoke as opposed to trying any fae tricks). It was amazing how much one could learn from one introduction.
He put on a supremely self-confident smile before shaking Josip's hand. "I wouldn't say my yearning days are over just yet, but no, I'm not from Gravette." His voice had the slightest hint of a rasp; not a rasp that came from his smoking habit (fae were blessed with wondrous health to counteract their tendencies toward indulging heavily in vice), but a more pleasing natural tone, albeit one that didn't quite fit how he looked. "I'm from pretty far off, but small world, eh? I've got a lot of family. It's possible." He took another drag of his own cigarette, then dropped it and put it out with the heel of his shoe.
When 'Josip' turned his eye towards the girl with what to Simon's eyes looked like slightly bloody sleeves, Simon got just a little frustrated. It was important to keep his eye, not only because the man was potentially a hunter and bloody sleeves were suspicious (and, since Simon knew the types that frequented this bar and he hadn't paid attention to when she came in, it was entirely possible that the blood was from humans not associated with the fight earlier), but because Simon, unlike some of his fellow fae, wasn't nearly as great a speaker. He wasn't necessarily bad, but some fae wove words better than any poet and could probably talk people off cliffs without even using any glamours. Most of the Wild Hunters never bothered with the deeper intricacies of speech; glamours were a tool of oppression and amusement for them, not subtle manipulation.
"I'm sure she just cut herself cleaning up the glass," Simon said, his tone light and dismissive. He turned to move into the bar, letting their personal space grow a little closer. Using his glamour to play off physical attraction always felt a bit.... juvenile, in a way, but in this case it was for a good reason, and Simon had sensed the smallest bit of it earlier (not unusual for any fae, much less one with glamour). "Tell you what - I'l buy you a drink, Josip. Never too early for one, I say." Simon shot the bloody sleeves girl a look that landed somewhere between accusatory (that she was obviously bloody) and warning (that he was likely a hunter). Of course, if Simon was smart enough himself, then he wouldn't even entertain sharing a drink with a potential hunter. It wasn't his fault that fae were naturally curious to a fault. Besides, maybe a healthy drink would get the man to talk a bit more freely.
Simon, to his credit, did not obviously turn to look or fumble his cigarette as the older man walked over to the bar and inspected the window. In fact, there was practically no visible reaction despite the fact that Simon could definitely smell something... fae about him.
He wasn't fae himself, clearly, and the scent wasn't... fresh. But it was there. Humans interacted with fae all the time, of course, but this was more. Something... longer. It was hard to put to words, but it was pulling at Simon's curiosity too hard for him to let it go.
Simon waited roughly a minute before looking up at the man. He was well-dressed and seemed sharp of mind, and Simon had been a Wild Hunter long enough to see what some fae called 'iron of the soul' in him. In other words, best not to hassle him. But Simon was curious, so it didn't really matter.
He waited another second before making a quick judgment. "There was a fight," he said, pretending to fiddle with his lighter instead of looking the well-dressed man in the eyes. "Only a few minutes ago, too - you just missed it." He paused a second. "Simon. You?" He offered the man a cigarette to punctuate the question, finally looking him in the face.
Kosroq had small rituals he performed before each job. Currently he was finishing inking the prayers on his mask. It was fashioned after the masks worn by an ancient order of assassins rumored to commune with spirits. Of course, that was long ago, and the order hadn't existed for a very long time; he doubted anyone even knew the origin of the mask anymore. It was a tool meant to hide his identity and strike fear into his enemies. The mask itself resembled a sunken face, narrowed eyes and a completely neutral slit for the mouth. The prayers on it were mostly of forgiveness. Kosroq thought of it as wearing his confessions on his face.
Finishing the ink, he wrapped it in a bundle of clothe. Next he changed his outfit. His 'work' outfit had more Earth Kingdom influences than Northern ones, only incorporating some fur around the collar. Most of it was dark green, though there were some lines of lighter shades as well. It looked, for the most part, rather generic, but allowed freedom of movement.
Finally, he strapped the scabbard of his serpent-tooth dagger on. Picking up the bundle hiding his mask and shoving it into his bag, he mouthed a silent prayer with his eyes clothed, then set out.
--~--
The city was always busy, meaning getting to the agricultural sector without any attention was easy enough. The difficult part was in doing the job.
The bureaucratic building of the agricultural sector - where all the records, scrolls, and other various paperwork was written, stored, or transfered - was huge. This meant that sneaking around was easy enough. Kosroq entered with his mask off. He knew the name of the target - one Loh Ma. All Kos had to do was plant some papers. He'd gotten a better glance at them before he'd left his place - they were faked correspondence between Loh Ma and a group of sandbender daofei. Over multiple letters, it detailed how Loh Ma, who, among other duties, took in crops from outsiders and calculated their value, was transcribing the total of crops falsely, taking some of the crop, and selling it covertly to the daofei for some personal profit, while the city knew none the wiser and the daofei ate well and recruited more members sick of the sparse pickings provided from the desert and the infrequent stolen goods. After all, the deep inland desert dwellers were reputed to feed off buzzard wasps and drink cactus juice, which sounded unhealthy to do once, much less live off of. Of course, it was none of Kosroq's business.
The business of the agricultural officials often meant the offices themselves were empty, often used only for meetings and writing the records not done on the spot elsewhere. Kosroq located Loh Ma's office relatively easy. Getting in was easy as well - Kosroq had perfected a technique to lockpick doors a long time ago, and though Kosroq hadn't brought a canteen with him, the agricultural offices were decorated with an abundance of flowers and such. Checking the hallway again and listening for any approaching footsteps, he began drawing some water discreetly from a nearby flower and working on the lock. Lockpicking with water was tricky work - he had to let the water into the lock, then slowly feel out the proper key shape by freezing and unfreezing the water repeatedly until he felt the ice occupying the appropriate space for him to turn it like a real key. He could simply break the lock or expand the ice enough to damage it, but the point was to leave no trace. It was very difficult to manipulate the water at such minute detail, but he had had plenty of practice.
The office was pointlessly well decorated for something few likely saw, which was typical of officials everywhere. Kosroq settled for sliding the papers behind a large cabinet set against the wall - hidden enough to be believable while still being fairly simple to locate. Besides, he was sure the client would alert the authorities of Loh Ma's supposed 'corruption' within the day so as to guarantee Loh Ma had no time to find out of the client's planted papers. Overall, an easy job - no need for his mask or knife after all and no complications. Kosroq slipped out of the office in less than five minutes and walked out of the bureaucratic building, disappearing into the stream of people moving about the city.
Garr almost looked surprised when Kosroq knocked at his door. "Hmm?"
"Tell the client the job is done. Within the next few hours, please," Kosroq said, then walked away without waiting for an answer. It felt good to make Garr hurry after he popped this surprise job on Kos earlier, even if it had been easy. Now he had the day to himself again. Maybe he'd pop by the monastery to pray for a bit, he mused as he disappeared into the crowd again.
"A little early to be drinking, Simon," The man taking a seat next to him said.
"The sun and moon do not dictate my hours to me, Capalli, nor do you," Simon said, taking a short sip of his drink.
To be honest, it was early. Back in the days of the Hunt, drinking happened anytime and everytime, because the Hunt was full of hedonists with no self control. Things were different now, but Simon still had some vices. At least he didn't hunt people anymore. Besides, any fae worth his salt could drink the average man under the table, so he'd be fine.
The man next to him was a puca - one of the many shapeshifters to come out of Europe. Capalli himself was from the British Isles. Neither of the two fae were actually named Simon or Capalli. In fact they even had other names they could use, dating back decades, even centuries, but fae liked to play games, and identities could be another facet of that. Instead of using names they had always had (for instance, when the two first met Simon was going by Sylgair, over a century ago and far, far away) they made themselves new ones and created new lives to go with them. It was all a game, and besides, true names were never to be spoken aloud.
Capalli looked like a young, handsome man (though looking attractive tended to be a given with most fae) wearing a beanie pulled down to cover his ears. It was a rather poor attempt to hide the fact that he currently had dog ears. Pucas, unlike some other shapeshifters, tended to retain features from their animal forms.
"Care for another drink then, Sy?" Capalli said, smiling teasingly.
"I buy my own drinks, kind sir," Simon drawled. Another small game - though they considered each other friends and would never glamour each other, accepting gifts from a fae was a bit faux pas. "Besides, I've had my fair share tonight."
"But I just got in here, Sy," Capalli said. He patted Simon on his back. "How 'bout this, bud - we trade. I'll tell you something I think you'll want to know, and you'll accept my gift. No debts, no glamours. Hmm?"
"I suppose I'm feeling magnanimous today, Cee," Simon said, but underneath his dismissive tone he was curious. Capalli could be generously called chaotically flighty on one of his good days, and given he was at a bar at 6 in the morning, it probably wasn't one. What info did Capalli have to give that made him forego his usual barrage of flirting?
"I appreciate it, Sy," Capalli said, pushing his own drink towards Simon. Capalli motioned for another, but Akseli seemed to be distracted. There was a crashing noise as a window behind them broke. This was a surprisingly regular occurrence, so Capalli merely shrugged and turned back to Sy, who hadn't looked over either.
"I heard from a friend that there was... something loud a few towns over," Capalli said. He seemed a bit serious for once, which likely meant the news was 'funeral invite' levels of grim. "Heard a hunter had a mishap with a, uh, hunter, y'know? Call it unfriendly fire, if -"
"Speak plainly, Cee," Simon said sharply. "You know it's safe here. As in, a fae hunter and a human one?"
Capalli hesitated before continuing. "Yeah. I'm not sure who was hunting who, but the human went down in the end. People got upset. Rumors are spreading - on both sides, I imagine. For the humans, y'know, it could be just another man down in a long war, but on our side... well, people are talking about the Horned King again." The last name was said in a hushed tone, rightfully so.
There was an awkward pause as Simon took a lengthy swallow from his bottle. "Well, fuck," he said, because it seemed the appropriate time to say it. Capalli nodded sympathetically.
"Well, people talk about him every time one of the Wild fae do anything," Simon said, but he was clearly shaken to some degree. "He's too patient to risk any loyalists now, anyway. Why would he resurface? He's got no reason, it would just be -"
Capalli waved his hands defensively. "Hey, man, don't get too worked up. You're preaching to the choir, anyway - like I said, it's basically gossip. Still, maybe be extra careful. There's some tension about the former Wild Hunters after all 'at, so maybe keep your tattoo extra hidden for a bit. Maybe keep your shirt on in bed for a bit," he teased, going back to his casual tone.
Simon rolled his eyes. Still, Capalli was right. Rumors were rumors, and the King was a popular boogeyman to keep the mill turning when fae were brought up.
"Anywho, I'll see you later, Sy. Remembering to bring something for the potluck," Capalli said, walking away.
Simon waited a few minutes before standing up, putting some time from Capalli leaving so he could finish his drink(s). He needed a smoke. The fae's natural tendency towards amazing health regardless of vices was something Simon gave silent thanks for everyday, because without it his liver and lungs would surely be shriveled and grey. He gave the broken window a short glance, then stepped outside to light his cigarette.
Name: Call him Simon Peterson. Fae don't give out real names easily.
Age: He looks to be in his mid-20s. His actual age is... older.
Supernatural Race: Fae.
Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian
Appearance: He looks young and strikingly handsome - because he is fae, and the Fair Folk are notoriously vain. He appears to have dyed blonde hair (it's actually a simple fae glamour- it lasts longer than dye and can be done quickly). He dresses well, if not always lavishly, and prefers shades of white, grey, or black. His tattoo is on his chest above his belly button, and it marks him as being a former member of the Wild Hunt (which is why he is generally reluctant to show it or talk about it).
Personality: He's far different than most fae, a result of his prolonged contact with humans. He tends to swing between a little brusque and a bit of a flirt. One of the fae habits he never dropped is vanity and pride - he always does his best to make himself look good, and he takes insults and disrespect very personally. He's not above being petty or holding grudges, and he can hold them for a very long time. In his years among humans, he's learned to suppress his more violent fae tendencies and how to behave more 'acceptable' in general. He still holds many hedonistic tendencies and often can't stop himself from taking up any opportunity to indulge himself in any way, though he's tried to limit this habit by simply avoiding being near situations likely to tempt him. He's tempered the cruel and sadistic streak in him natural to most fae of the Hunt, but it comes out more when he's angry. He very much doesn't like talking about anything related to the Hunt and his involvement in it. One hobby he's taken up recently is taking care of plants - he was never one of the harmonious, nature loving fae, so he's trying to change that. He's not having much luck.
History:
Simon, many many years ago, was a hunter. Not of the Supernatural; quite the opposite. Back in the days when the Fair Folk ran amok, the prey was mankind.
People forget what the elves of the Hunt were like. Some people remember the elves of the forest, who loved nature and didn't go out of their way to bother humans, or the elves who liked the joys of life, of dancing and music and good food and good clothes. But the Wild Hunt was different. They liked good clothes too, but not of fine silk and cottons; they liked furs, skins, maybe even teeth and bone if they felt like it. They liked nature too; they loved to play with it. The Wild fae were the type to break bones one by one, to pluck every feather over hours, to make someone dance until they died. To them, the world was a plaything. The fae who joined the Hunt were not friends to mankind; they were its antithesis.
Simon was a Wild fae once. He rode a white horse and carried a bow, and when the Hunt moved, he was near the front. And at the very front was the Antlered Crown, the Mockery of the King, the First Hunter, riding a six-legged horse, and when he rode the Hunt rode. He wore bronze armor instead of furs and a gold band on his head like a halo. His hair was blonde and his skin was fair. He looked like a king from folklore, were it not for the antlers sprouting from his head. They said the Fae King talked so sweetly he could convince trees to wither themselves. They said his bow could pierce the heart of a mountain and bring it down as easily as he could a man. They said the crown and armor he wore was a reminder of a king long gone who had hated and hunted elves, mocking the human noble long after his death. The First Hunter was feared by more than just humans.
But, of course, many of those were exaggerations, and the Hunt had enemies even among their own kind; the Hunt was too cruel to stay forever. Fae are eternally young; they never grow older, but they never grow much wiser, either. Humans grew smarter, made better weapons. When their numbers and might no longer mattered as much, when humans learned that there were ways to counteract the sheer numbers of the Hunt, the Hunt disbanded, its Hunters spreading to the wind and across the World. Rumors, even now, persist of the Fae King and a few devout followers waiting somewhere deep and hidden, because Fae are eternal and arrogant; they say the Fae King is patient. They say he believes the human civilizations will not last forever, that the humans will grow old and wither away, regressing to savages. And when they do, the Fae King and his Hunt will return.
But for now, at least, humans aren't planning on collapsing anytime soon, and Simon has had a very long time to think. He has lived with humans and discovered many things. For instance, lying. And another; empathy. Simon was curious when he decided to live among humans, disguised as one of them. He didn't expect to feel the heartbreak of loving someone who he would never grow old with, someone he would easily outlive, much less falling in love multiple times and always outliving them. He's lived many lives now, and though he is a fae - capricious, vain, proud, and prone to forget the lessons of life - he's grown so fond of humans that he feels more for them than many of his own kind. Even with the guilt of his past association with the Hunt, the paranoia of running into Hunters (of the human and elf variety, the former for their danger and the latter since many of them never learned better), and the crushing reality of near immortality, he is determined to live life for the better.
Strengths: He's got traditional fae abilities (detailed later). Besides that, he is naturally stronger than a human - not by much, but more than his appearance would suggest. He's also a hell of an archer, though he prefers to never fight unless he needs to (anymore). Like most elves, he possesses a natural regeneration of wounds and scars, though it's not a speedy process.
Weaknesses: He's weaker to iron than other materials, like most fae. Surprisingly, though, the fae's infamous aversion to iron isn't as bad as the myths usually say; while fae can be more easily harmed with iron, fae can still touch and use iron tools. Iron does seem to hinder the fae's natural regeneration properties, however, so iron weapons are more effective. Additionally, this means most traditional medical equipment - including scalpels - will ironically make an elf's condition worse. Secondly, like all fae, he has a true name. Knowing his true name would make whoever knew it effectively able to command him to do anything. Of course, it's virtually impossible to make him tell you it, so it's not really an issue.
Stance: Inactive. He's understanding of both sides (he knows full well the damage the Hunt alone did to humanity, and humans have hurt the supernatural as well) and frankly doesn't care to be involved anymore. He did that plenty when he was in the Hunt.
Special Power/Skill: Like most fae, he possesses skill with Glamours. Glamours cover a wide range of things, but all of them have to do with bolstering appearance or how others percieve the user. Back in the Hunt, fae used glamour to appear beautiful and noble, even in combat. Glamour can be as simple as making oneself have different color eyes to making the observer feel inferior just by looking at the user to feeling as if the user could only ever be trying to help you (even if they are directly asking you to give them something for free). Glamours made the fae able to manipulate and trick many humans and is why many elves are so arrogant - it is relatively easy for them to take things whenever they feel like it by simply asking. There are rules - many glamours fail or are much less effective if the person is already suspicious of the user or knows the user isn't a regular human. Other supernatural beings are also less affected by glamours. Glamours can also gain effectiveness on people who fall under certain conditions. For instance, a fae who knows someone's true name can more easily influence them (which is easier now, since no one generally gives out fake names when meeting someone, though a fae's true name is far more useful than a human's). Glamours are more easily performed by a confident fae (and thus a fae who believes themselves at a disadvantage will also be putting themselves at a disadvantage by making their own glamours weaker) and a victim who isn't confident or considers themselves below the user will fall for glamours easily as well. Someone who is 'indebted' to a fae is also more vulnerable, though this one's a bit tricky; for instance, if the fae does someone a favor but the person says 'you are very kind' or doesn't thank the fae, then the favor will be treated as an act of kindness or similar, and therefore no 'debt' is implied (a direct 'thank you' is treated as acknowledgement of a favor owed, so be careful). Most glamours last a long time, and many fae permanently have at least a few glamours layered on, some for disguise and some merely to improve their appearance or influence.
Other: He dislikes many cats. He claims they're not all bad, but many of them are too much like elves to be trusted.
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