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Messages - Filaesion Rilindisil

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Shahllene Province / Re: Adventures in queening
« on: November 07, 2021, 02:07:13 AM »
Musical Inspiration:Legendary - Welshly Arms
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Summer Sky Embroidery
Purpose: Following the Queen Into Little Terreille
Time: Summer AW 104, Afternoon

Take a look around me
Taking pages from a magazine
Been looking for the answers
Ever since we were seventeen.

Security breach, or was it? While on the one hand, Lady Sorcha o'Naur could say she had slipped her guards, the border guard had a job of knowing who crossed in and out of Dea al Mon, even if it was the Queen of Dea al Mon, and especially so. A potential diplomatic incident wasn't a small matter. However, the Captain and Major(he preferred the former due to nostalgia over his once enlisted status in the Red Guard) Filaesion was the sort that was more curious as to why the Red Jewelled woman didn't just ask for time off, making boundaries clear to her triangle. Given that he was largely stationed in Polod, the matter really wasn't his concern, was it?

The presence of that heavy, incredible power was easy to follow for another reason. Though Captain Rilindisil was so much lighter Jewelled and knew taking care was of grave importance as following Lady Sorcha could end up making her furious, Filaesion had had almost three hundred years experience. Following an arguably talented woman that was not yet thirty summers was the work of a lunch break. Being dual Caste made her additionally precious and worth taking the risk for, as he viewed the matter. He wove between the trees and kept a nearly twenty-minute distance, using physical skill to track Sorcha o'Naur, rather than Craft.

Yet, as the time passed, and he was aware of keeping pace with Lady Sorcha, he'd have to cross out of Dea al Mon, anxiety held the Captain still and watchful as Filaesion sent word back through the first chance possible had, being circumspect about exactly why he was crossing the border. It wasn't as if anyone could precisely tell Lady Sorcha no, except her own triangle could dig in on the fussing to the point that would probably make her want to bite each one of them. A nearly grim smile flickered across Filaesion's face.

Ah well. Everything had a Price.

He consulted a mental mapping of the region and used an illusion to shift the appearance of his face and ears to fit in a little more with the local people of Shahllene province. He remembered that both a Dark Gate and the Capital city of the region were in the area, which was very apparent to Filaesion by the shift of the forest line, and how the land felt almost like a distant whisper compared to being in Dea al Mon, something he could feel due to his need to be close to water to feel more comfortable; there was a disconnect perhaps, or pollution, one could say, though he knew only a skilled Queen would know better.

It made him immediately worry for Lady Sorcha. The buildings here were very different, and Filaesion very much did not want to be here. The Captain moved closer, still remaining distant until he saw Sorcha bump into a person. At that juncture, he moved close enough to murmur an apology on her behalf, though he took the blame himself. "Easy to lose track of the people when looking at the buildings, do forgive me for not paying enough attention to where I moved," Filaesion said warmly, almost too charming. His low, musical voice earned a sharp look from the well dressed, light brown-skinned man passing by the Queen. Filaesion waited and moved to block Sorcha's advance in the careful, professional manner of a centuries-long experienced guardsman.

"I mean no harm, but are you sure this is the path desired, lady? Though I expect you have plenty of skills, a diplomatic incident with Little Terreille isn't something you desire, mmh?" He also used a quick hand sign, hoping Sorcha had learned such things and that perhaps not wanting negative attention would keep her from blasting him with her Red Jewel. Filaesion wasn't a small man, though he wasn't the tallest of Jewelled males given some could change shape even to bears. Filaesion was careful not to loom over the Queen despite standing tall and steady to six foot five, clothed elegantly in black, Craft infused leathers. Turning, he leaned against a building next to them that at first glance seemed to be an inn or a publican intended for both meals and rest. Silvery hair coiled around his fair skinned face and he watched to see what the lady would choose next.

"Your prowess in can defending yourself well is known, doesn't mean you should have to, lady, though I do ask your pardon if I am incorrect ..." he lofted his right brow high, and crooned elegantly, in good humour despite how far he'd followed Lady Sorcha. "Am I?"

Polod Province / Re: Crystal Mind and Magenta Feelings
« on: September 14, 2021, 09:32:22 AM »
Musical Inspiration(s):No Love - Nine One One | Dark Reverie - Queensr˙che
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Summer Sky Embroidery
Purpose: Attempting to metaphorically drown in alcohol and failing
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Late Afternoon

Run, run, run;
Cause there ain’t no love around here.
Ain't no love around here,
Ain't no love around here.
Down on me
When it rains, it pours
'Till we all fall down...

That Niniel continued to carefully observe the details about him that he had allowed her access to with unfettered delight. Though her family was not tied to a Court, they had been responsible for a great number of kindnesses and offers of charity in the region both their families had lived in for centuries. That alone would have been enough for Captain Filaesion to remark upon the tenderness and elegance of Lady Niniel's mother and her family entirely. But they were known for such works outside of their local region and in other areas of Dea al Mon. As such, the notation was a requirement of honour for him to mention, as Filaesion viewed it.

The positive sensations that were a veritable flurry of warmth around Niniel both metaphorically cracked Filaesion's heart in half and healed it. At least to some degree. He had already found he desired her when he noticed her presence. But that warmth and respect, the trust that followed it, stole his breath a little. Those tones of delight made it harder to hide that Niniel affected him. However, the concern and dismay combined and that he could sense she had noticed his desire and did not find it unpleasant was what had caused his attire to feel constricting. Of course, his being a Black Widow made it all the deeper and titillating.

Enticing warmth in her eyes pushed him closer to an edge of making a decision, and so did spying the scales upon her shoulders. He rumbled a sound low in his chest, a note a siren song that only she would have been able to sense or hear regardless of Craft use, particularly if Niniel was siren enough. After that juncture, Filaesion allowed himself to notice how the Healer Hearth Witch's attire clung attractively to her curves. Now, he allowed himself to notice the tantalising strip of bared skin between her shirt and skirt.  However, Filaesion took the effort not to notice Niniel so much that the entire rest of the Inn noticed him noticing her. He was not, after all, trying to influence everyone present. Even with the sound he had made, one would have needed to be not only at least half Krenaiai but capable of physical shapeshifting to the swimming form to have noticed it.

The way she twinkled and seemed to think he was too subtle amused Filaesion, as many of his family had often prodded him for being so. He inclined his head toward the Warlord's bow, allowing his awareness of the specific Protocol, in this case, to be tightly observed. That Lord Lavanor was inclined to keep Lady Niniel safe as well as the pair of them and the rest of those within and outside of the general vicinity of the building pleased Filaesion and allowed him to relax a shred of that viciousness he possessed. A sliver of humour and the smallest visible compassion lightened the Captain's expression and mingled with the general earned arrogance of his presence, and that despite the tension of his mood. His lips parted, and when he next smiled at Niniel once Lavanor had departed the table, he flashed a little of those too sharp upper canines so that if she wondered about him and what he was, that could be somewhat less in doubt if it had been.

That she did not shy away from the depth of his expression and more Krenaiai mannerisms intrigued Filaesion further and made him prod just a little at that spot in his head that pained him viciously when he had specific thoughts regarding Niniel. Because of the healing webs already laid very intricately deep within his mind, he saw a flash of some horrible grief in the same moment he felt that sense of deep purpose in her regarding him. Or at least, that was how he had considered her emotion. Touching her gave him more, and so too did the blush upon her cheeks. It occurred to Filaesion then that his response to her was far too strong for someone he had never met, and his sharpened intellect put some of the pieces together logically rather than emotionally, as he wished.

"I am pleased you are willing to accept my aid, but please do not be embarrassed. That would come if you had refused, lost consciousness, or further harmed yourself as a result. Your actions could have been easily done by any Healer without specific poor intentions and merely stubbornness." That she called him 'sir' had Filaesion quirking his right brow, and he continued to feed her those bits of warmth and power without pushing into Niniel's space too intensely. He listened carefully, of course, as she described what turned out to be an acceptable reason for all of the power and skill use.

"That you could turn and teach the method makes the value very high," he said finally after a moment of some consideration. The tightening of Niniel's hand on his pulled that rumble of ocean-deep sound from him, and again his eyes slowly began to brighten once more with that glow that typically only full Krenaiai possessed, at least those very close. Moreover, Filaesion allowed Niniel to tightly grip his hand even as he noticed the quickening of her pulse at the excitement of saving lives, which was a worthwhile reason if one had any. When she then said that they remember, even if he could not, he flinched and saw a splinter of memory, holding Niniel as she shrieked some horrific grief. He grit his teeth, and rather than fighting that sharpened pain, which now would have been visible as the tiniest of repairs, it was one of a kind that often hurt because of how deep the damage was that caused the memory loss.

As such, he couldn't shield her out, not and fully pay close attention to his pain and letting in that memory trying to reseat itself in his mind where it belonged. Filaesion shivered, trying his best not to cause alarm to anyone else in the Inn before he loosed a breath and laughed just a little.

"I know you more intimately, don't I," he rumbled in query while dragging his long, sharp, but shielded thumbnail along the inside of Niniel's wrist. "No, do not tell me. I want to work this out for myself." Captain Filaesion was fairly certain she had never been his lover but that he had desired her to be at one point.

"My aunt could host the Charity Ball. Why would this be a bad thing, Niniel? Unless it is preferred for your family to do so. Which would make sense. Perhaps Lady Irimivae could be allowed to request assistance with the linen choices and designing of the theme?" He easily offered an alternative rather than merely holding her sibling away. "If she had an appropriate escort that she was incapable of escaping, then I hardly see why she could not visit for that purpose." Niniel's light prodding clarified that he had been healed very carefully and was still undergoing Healing mentally, but that psychic scent was continually trying to eat at the Healing.

"My Aunt is well; I do thank you for asking after her well being and will tell her that you did. Several of our younger guards got into a scuffle after trying an experiment to see how many exploding arrows they could use at once," he said with a soft, slightly annoyed sigh and a light brush of humour in the man's eyes.

Any amusement faded, however, when Niniel's fingertip brushed near the glove he had removed. He immediately tightened a different kind of shield on her as some part of whatever was on it tried leaping to her but failed, sliding off to dissipate into nothing. Rage flared in him that it seemed his Queen was willing to attack anyone and anything, which gave him joy. The way she twined and untwined their fingers pulled a tighter focus from him upon her. "You are welcome," he answered.

"You want to help?" Surprise filled his face, confirming again that his suspicions were correct, that he knew her and had wanted to know her much more once. Though Filaesion normally was not a man that held back in taking lovers, so the question was, why hadn't he?

"Very well, yes, you may help after food and recovery and not before," his manner was unyielding in that detail. "I will explain, but first, tell me, Lady Niniel." Captain Filaesion leaned forward so that his lips could nearly touch her hand so that he could push the whisper across the table with Craft so that no one else could hear his query.

"Tell me, without exactly explaining what I have forgotten, why I haven't ever bedded you unless that is a detail I've crazily forgotten as well?"

He waited, locking eyes with Niniel's again, and he kept them there on her face rather than staring down her body as he wanted, easily offering respect while maintaining a clear, intensely heated interest in the way his thumbnail kept sliding over her wrist.

Polod Province / Re: Crystal Mind and Magenta Feelings
« on: July 04, 2021, 09:29:23 PM »
Musical Inspiration(s):No Love - Nine One One | Dark Reverie - Queensr˙che
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Summer Sky Embroidery
Purpose: Attempting to metaphorically drown in alcohol and failing
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Late Afternoon

Run, run, run;
Cause there ain’t no love around here.
Ain't no love around here,
Ain't no love around here.
Now, this empty road,
I'm too weak to ride alone.
I’ve come this far,
But I’ve so far to go...

Filaesion continued to evade Lady Niniel's gaze directly for the present, though he managed it elegantly rather than awkward motions. It was simple politeness as he saw it, though there was no expectation of her to understand or notice, especially while there remained another present. Nor was he bothered over being stared at or observed in any fashion, being one that had commanded many people among the Dea al Mon. More, if he could deal with poisonous Namaire, then Niniel was like a fresh ocean breeze by comparison. Filaesion's arrogance was as much a part of him as his hands and not directed at anyone specifically. He had no reason to be humble as he saw it, which was the purest opposite of his hauteur. In his experience, humility was often a lie. His Queen had pretended humility to sway his heart once, and since then, the display often made him wary. Filaesion came from a very old line of Dea al Mon long before blending with the Aycaiya, and he was pleased with that.

It was not at all that he thought it through and chose to see himself as more; he was, by the grace of Mother Night. It was her Darkness blessed grace that he claimed to be wrapped in as a Black Widow Prince, grandson of a Queen, father of a Queen and a Warlord Prince. In turn, he was exceedingly pious to the one responsible for the blessings he possessed. However, had Niniel bothered to ask the reason for his manner, he would have said the Galasrinion line was equally well favoured and worthy of any grace. Instead, he was puzzled by her layered and rapidly shifting emotions, each of which was a warm comfort, even in possible dislike. After all, healthy dislike was more beautiful than poisonous tar at any time. At all times, Filaesion embraced the beast of what he was and found himself enthralled and joyous of the wilder parts of his personality and type.

He had not noticed Lady Niniel was aware of the ripping pain that flickered through his head occasionally and rather more accustomed to pain than he ought to have been, so of course, he continued to make no mention of it. More particularly, it was exclusively a physical malady. Filaesion almost smiled when she asked about his gloves, and he watched Niniel with the weight of a man unhurried about desire; the Healer Hearth Witch was beautiful, and he imagined she knew it well enough. "I do not always choose to wear partial gloves, but my shielding is more than sufficient. Also, when in a crowd like this, the visible nails help mark me out for those that are less attentive than they should be. I never veil myself, Lady, unless I am hunting."

He liked that she did not swoon and was focused as he had not been trying to make her do so. It was eternally an irritant when people were faint at his approach simply for his existence. Her attentiveness to his attire and hair for a moment held the Black Widow of him coiled and poised to inhale her entirely, but then it passed, luckily for them both. He still did not meet her gaze directly, as too much rage burned in him then, and it was not her fault.

Filaesion realised he had spoken a little too rapidly as Lady Galasrinion did not note he was also addressing Lord Lavanor. Still, he found it charming enough that his pulse picked up delightfully in speed. As it was different from the rage he felt, the Major leaned into that emotion, even if he could not get rid of the other. A smile flashed at Lavanor's words. "As you wish, Lord Lavanor. I would never deny you or your family the joy of any service. What she requires, my Lord, even better than what I had considered," he said with deep amusement.

"Lady Niniel Galasrinion will not depart my presence until it is attended and her Escort has arrived, or I will attend to the matter myself as her family would expect." Revelling in that bit of joy in serving someone truly worthy, he finally did lock gazes with Lady Galasrinion, and the reason might have been apparent finally. He did not hide his rage, and the manner it was decades old in his face, the shredding grief from being recently widowed was as well enfolded in his expression. Threaded through now, though, was how he felt to help her. His ultramarine eyes glowed a little less now, and thankfully he had thorough training as to how the voices of the Aycaiya could grip people completely for a time. Filaesion was able to soften his to the point that he sounded stunning but did not stun. That Lady Niniel was near starved pricked at him more than his health concerns. He coaxed one of her hands into his by way of dragging the nails of his safer hand--the left--down those sensitive spots along her arm.

"Allow me, rather than folding your arms. Please, Lady Niniel," the man said in a near snarl that was difficult to hold back, though he gave her name the correct oceanic quality every single time he spoke it. If she allowed him to collect her hand again after she was seated, it was better, but Filaesion was entirely prepared to force the point if needed for Niniel's safety. As the Healer Hearth Witch was unshielded, he threaded one of his shields around her for warmth while letting it spin open so that she could still feel the world around her. Through that, he laced flickers of his energy. It was not as good as eating but would keep her from fainting.

"No apologies are needed at all, except for the one where you likely attended a patient and then did not eat afterwards. I do not mind the accolades; it is more that I do not feel I have done quite enough to earn them truly. But that is a personality flaw, more than a commentary on anyone else. I am equally aware of the skill of the chefs here and delighted by them." Still attending to her hand, he could feel that Lady Galasrinion was cold. Though he did not like it, he sat down across from her despite the desire to pull the woman hard upon his lap. As his head hurt more at the thought, he connected that it must have had something to do with the pain. The information was carefully considered and filed away with a Princely precision.

Her Caste scent was as welcoming as it was brutally painful, but those emotions he did not allow out, containing them tightly to the self and chalice. Mostly because he did not understand the reason for the emotions, it would require consideration; Filaesion had long kept a series of coded journals where he wrote down everything he had experienced like a nested bowl of memories. After a moment of consideration, he realised he might need Lady Niniel after all, but in a professional manner rather than to have a meal of her entire body.

But both would do nicely, Filaesion thought.

"Who could be unawares of Lady Ivriniel Galasrinion anywhere in Polod?" Filaesion allowed a flicker of a smile. "Besides, some of the Rilindisil lands share a boundary with the Galasrinion, part of my paternal sister's inheritance." Particularly, it was a portion some Galasrinion cousins of hers had wished to purchase many times over the last hundred years at least; Lady Lhúthien had long convinced her mother, Lady Iluina, not to give in, however. He was uncertain how much to say on the matter, particularly because of just how viciously Lhúthien had phrased the matter.

"My aunt, Lady Iluina Rilindisil, is among the ruling Queens in this area. You have a sister that is a Queen as well, correct?" He felt a searing pain at the word sister connected to Niniel, so some of it was a traumatic memory. Filaesion carefully allowed that feeling to flow over him, not choosing to fight it, waiting until it settled. He still maintained the warming shield, and though he paused, offering whisper sized hints of energy to Lady Niniel, once his head settled, he continued, more than capable and aware of his limits. The Black Widow webs embedded in his mind absorbed and deflected any possible damage, what was more.

"I will keep your hand for the present until your meal has arrived, but only because you will need it to eat," Filaesion said firmly. Then he vanished the glove from his hand, not even wanting any hint of his bonded Queen to touch her. The Black Widow Prince had no explanation for why this was necessary, but the longer the minutes dragged, the more he felt like snapping Namaire's neck. The glove fell unattended upon the table, and he glared at it, eyes glowing like ultramarine coals for a moment. He was sure that Niniel's presence was a perfectly gilded distraction.

Polod Province / Re: Crystal Mind and Magenta Feelings
« on: July 02, 2021, 09:12:23 PM »
Musical Inspiration(s):No Love - Nine One One | Dark Reverie - Queensr˙che
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Summer Sky Embroidery
Purpose: Attempting to metaphorically drown in alcohol and failing
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Late Afternoon

You’ve been wondering
If there's a hero near
He ain't coming
Cause there ain't no love around here ...
Nothing lasts forever
I can't forget the past
I'm searching for the answers
Through the bottom of a glass...

It was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the Tavern in surround. Paired with the view out of the elegantly carved wide window, which was Craft protected not to allow in rain or other elements, he was almost feeling peaceful. Well, as peaceful as one could with the psychic scent of a hated and loved individual all over one's attire. Filaesion had no idea whether a person would be seated with him or not as, during this time of day, a Hearth Witch that wasn't busily working was an admittedly tall order. He expected that at least if one could not be found, he would have space alone, which was very much fine by him. It suited Filaesion well these days. His eyes closed at the heavy feeling that gripped him suddenly. His wife would have known what to do. She had always been skilled at removing Namaire's scent from his belongings so that he could exist in a less painful space. He recalled the last time she attended to him, carefully washing his hair with a soap that could help pull psychic scents from the skin and hair without pain to the psyche. He had run out of it three months ago. Filaesion accepted that he did not respond appropriately to his Bonded Queen, even considering their history. However, he could never forgive her for trying to sabotage his marriage not once but thrice.

While he sat in the comfortable space, Filaesion's markers of Krenaiai were not at all visible. He kept them tightly concealed, though those that needed to know what he was did know, like the owner of the establishment and his brother. His pale nails tapped lightly upon the table; despite closed eyes, Filaesion was aware of every single nuance of movement that passed in the entire Tavern. He knew when customers entered or exited, when people danced or sat when they ate or conversed. He smelled the lake water from across the establishment, which caused the Black Widow Prince to slightly open his eyes, which for the moment still glowed, so he closed them back. It was fair because he was still extremely angry, and the glow tended to burn through any webs that he tried to hide. The only illusions that worked were ones his half-sister tended to make. One young woman passed by him in curiosity while the owners were busy, and he bared his teeth just enough to make her leave. She did not take the hint.

The Major inwardly sighed and quickly took stock of the Tavern and dance floor, finding the young woman the perfect partner in the thirty seconds it took her to gather the courage to speak. For that alone, that self-preserving pause to think, she deserved to have her heart flutter warmly, Filaesion thought.


"No. Leave me be before I throw you out the window," Major Rilindisil said with such neutrality that the Dea al Mon witch startled. "Do not worry. You would slide down a tree nearly harmlessly."

The witch's eyes widened with shock and half laughter. Soft brunette curls framed a heart-shaped face. "But my mother said that I should--"

"Your mother is trying to get you severely harmed, at least in approaching a Black Widow Prince unknown to you without planning. Try the Warlord dancing on the left side of the floor, Lady. Your families live alongside each other."

The pretty brown-haired, pale pink-skinned witch turned to look and blushed, which only brightened the loveliness of her face. Her ears twitched nervously. "Why help me?"

"Because it suits me. Now go, please, before it does not."

She went, still shivering at the way he said the word please, leaving the witch well primed for a dashing Warlord.

There were no more disturbances for some time, but it amused Filaesion that he had made a pair with almost no effort even if there was no evidence in his icy expression. It also soothed the shattered pieces of his heart. The man's eyes closed once more. After a while, he sensed a disturbance closing in on his space with a beacon of calming excitement, which did not quite make sense. Cracking one eye open, he saw it was Lord Lavanor. So Filaesion lifted his head from the wonderful neck pillow upon his seat. His gaze he kept half averted to avoid frightening the presented second occupant of the table but inclined his head elegantly toward the young man. Filaesion chose to do little about the intense aura of sensuality that surrounded himself, and he smirked arrogantly. "Lord Lavanor," he said graciously, voice tuned so low as to be a pure, elegant rumble.

As he presented Lady Niniel Galasrinion, a sharp pain sliced through Major Rilindisil, though he bore it so aloof and stoically that it would have been hard to detect save for by a skilled healer. "Lady Galasrinion. Your family and works are very well known to me," and the man rose silkily, predatorily to his feet.

All six foot five inches of him, making him more than a foot taller than her and well tall enough that he loomed over Lady Niniel by just existing. Filaesion did not need to put effort forth. He offered his left hand, clad in a black leather half glove with visible fingertips, for Craft attending. However, he waited until she offered the slightest permission to touch and was so tightly shielded that even a skilled Queen could not have read his emotion unless they forced through.

Thus, his hand was merely a hand and nothing more. He bowed over Lady Niniel's hand if she might allow him to have hers even briefly; there were no breaks between glove and embroidered sleeve, signalling perfect tailoring to suit even movement of Filaesion's body. His endlessly seeming silver hair was loose past his waist in wild curls that were still a little dampened, and it all moved with him.

"Lady Niniel Galasrinion, I claim the pleasure of your presence," he said smoothly, with a whisper of the sibilant speech more common to fully blooded Aycaiya, with each of the precise notes of the Healer Hearth Witch's name lingered over in the way moonlight waves crested a lonely beachfront. His nails were hardened in the manner advanced Black Widows ensured their affectation was also a weapon. More, it was a warning to any other person regardless of gender that might think to approach: do not.

He gestured to the seat opposite to the one that he had been occupying with his right hand. "If you would? Join me if it pleases you? I am on leave," he said bluntly to Lord Lavanor with the lift of his left brow. "So my presence here is hardly notable as some might think." The dry manner he spoke was the closest anyone tended to achieve amusements of any kind with Filaesion anymore. He did, however, offer a second bow to Lord Lavanor in appreciation for finding a suitable person to share a table with and expected startled confusion at the idea he ever took any vacations.

"Your skill grows alike your elder kin, Lord Lavanor. You have my gratitude, truly."

He waited with his hands clasped at his lower back for Lady Niniel to seek her comfort in sitting before again addressing Lavanor. "Whatever the lady needs or desires for sustenance, place on my family tab if you would." The iron in his expression made clear he was attending to her as a Prince at that moment. Looking directly at her made Filaesion feel strangely dizzy as if he were missing something. Still, he quietly weathered the oddness until his mind settled as he recognised her scent almost too intimately. It meant he was missing memories of her specifically.

"Like many, you might recall me as a Captain of the Red Guard, I wonder, but at this moment, I am only a Black Widow Prince, Lady Galasrinion. Pray, do not assign any particular grace to my presence." Prince Filaesion continued to stand waiting, of course, until Lady Niniel indicated she was perfectly settled and not a little less.

Polod Province / Re: Crystal Mind and Magenta Feelings
« on: June 26, 2021, 11:57:26 PM »
Musical Inspiration(s):No Love - Nine One One | Dark Reverie - Queensr˙che
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Summer Sky Embroidery
Purpose: Attempting to metaphorically drown in alcohol and failing
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Late Afternoon

Hey there, lover.
It's always love or hate, my dear.
You better find another;
Cause there ain't no love around here ...
If I leave, would you wait for me?
If I fall, would you pray for me?
When I'm gone, will they remember me,
Or fade away into eternity?

Filaesion took the Summer Sky wind home first. It was still silent when he arrived, as his children were still with his Aunt. He had convinced himself this was better than going to the tavern first. His home was, the Major rationalised, somewhat on the way. The assumption was that the brief detour was supposed to help. Filaesion ended up taking an admittedly luxurious bath in the quiet and lingered for an additional twenty minutes. He'd badly needed the water on his skin after what he'd dealt with. Water was life for his kind.

Yet, in startled horror, the man discovered that Namaire's psychic scent was still stuck to his skin and hair; worse yet, every time scrubbed again or tried to remove Namaire's presence from his belongings or himself, it hurt. However, this was not a result of the poison as he'd processed that through his system by the time he'd arrived at his tree bound home. Filaesion had expected worse but had to some degree been able to handle what the woman had to gift in a physical sense. The mental strain took a toll, but it was nothing beyond what he had faced previously.

Emotionally, however, ignoring the frustration and rage had a Price.

Rather than relaxation, trying to cleanse himself mostly riled the man up further. The ritual of putting on fresh attire gave him enough mental space that he could stand still going to the tavern and being relatively sociable or trying. Relacing his shoes, buttoning his trousers, retying a fresh cravat were all ritualistic moments for an offering of peace he seemed to be completely denied. The silver embroidered suited pairing also went into the shielded, wooden chest of items he couldn't wear because Namaire's presence had ruined them. The rage arose once he walked through his once immense closet and realised that at least two-thirds of his wardrobe, carefully curated over the decades before and after he'd Bonded his Queen, was unwearable.

It had taken ten minutes of meditation not to begin throwing items around the closet, ten further minutes to remember that though belongings were merely physical possessions, Filaesion would never have enjoyed attending to the mess of his closet if he broke and shredded items. Moreover, such an explosion of temper would have been no example to his children. Yet, as it was a twenty-minute walk to the tavern, he did decide to go there on foot. The walk allowed Major Rilindisil to clear his head a little more than he might have otherwise. He wore his waist-length silver hair loose as it was still damp from washing three times.

By the time he arrived, there was a short line waiting for admittance to the Sunleaf Tavern. He needed only wait ten additional minutes for entry. The tall, graceful trees were a lovely accent to the building, almost invisible except for the stairs that marched very close to one immense tree trunk. They spiralled up the side, disappearing into the canopy. It offered an incredible view out of all the tavern windows, visible after he was offered a good seat for that purpose. One not too distant from the other tables so that he could interact, but a large enough table for at least two more people. "Prince, do you mind my seating another party here?"

Filaesion lightly shook his head. "No, I do not mind. A hearth witch, if you see any, would be especially welcome. Still, not more than one person, additionally, please," he murmured in gravelly bass tones while flashing the long pale nails and pointing his index finger at the subtle, black hourglass pendant near his high collar covered clavicle. While Hearth Witches were painful to him still, they were also the sweetest solace he knew. His indication was a gentle way of explaining why he was so choosy with people; Filaesion was not a Warlord Prince or darker jewelled, even if he might have carried some of that edged presence due to personality and life experience. "A glass of wine, red, at least seventy years old, if you would?"

In response, Filaesion received a careful bow. The Sunleaf Tavern was a local community place with dancing and dining, while careful with chosen seating arrangements by Caste. It took greater effort for any warm regard, for which Filaesion had no energy. He hoped that informing the male Dea al Mon, medium height blonde-haired server of his preferences alone was enough. One, he could handle and did not mind the element of surprise.

Literally, anyone was better than where he'd come from before his trip home. The Black Widow Prince had changed into a suit with a little less of Namaire's scent, very subtle, and a different, summer sky embroidery. So, an annoyance, but not one that reminded him of the last two hours spent. He turned to stare out of the window, which at least had an absolutely stunning view out of every vantage point. He'd previously believed it good, but now that he needed the greenery vision, Major Rilindisil updated his opinion to a truly flawless beautiful landscape. Leaning back in his seat, Filaesion dropped his head back against the hand-sewn pillowed neck roll, drawing in a slow and very unsteady breath.

Every time he breathed in or out, the subtle hint of his Queen was there. To many, he knew this was an ironic detail to despise. Indeed, for most, it would have been a rare, deep, indulgently beautiful pleasure. Crazed laughter bubbled up his throat, and he forced it back down twice. Then again. What was he to do? It was absolutely hopeless, as while he was a wealthy man, his lady would easily live as long as he might, and he couldn't countenance the waste of resources. The list was short of women he could marry or court to subject to what he dealt with, so even the idea of trying to seek a helpmate for his young children was an impossible, painful thought. He loved them both more than anything, would have done both safe and unsafe things to keep his little Queen daughter and not so little Warlord Prince son safe.

One breath in, then out.

Would he always belong to her? Was that how this would end? Filaesion had deliberately kept his son away from Lady Namaire due to a deep fear the boy would bond her, too. He'd hoped when his daughter was born a Queen that his children would Bond, and that would be the end. But now, it was much worse a concern rather than only being about himself.

In, then out again. A soft clap twice sounded at a little distance from Filaesion; he opened his eyes to find the server with a slightly anxious expression with a glass of red wine on a tray with a bottle.

"Prince? Your wine?"

Tightly, Major Rilindisil nodded. "My pardon, I was thinking rather than observing. You need not be so alarmed."

"Is there anything I can do to help, Prince?"

Filaesion grimaced and shook his head in the negative. "Other than leaving the bottle, no, thank you. Just keep the table open for one more, really. It is acceptable to me not to be entirely alone with my thoughts."

Understanding flashed across the young server's face, and he nodded, setting down the tray so that he could more easily leave the bottle and glass, then picked up the empty tray with a flourish.

"Of course. Prince."

Filaesion inclined his head carefully but dropped his gaze as he felt his eyes gathering power, which meant glowing. Thankfully, the server turned away before it was visible, and as far as he could tell, no one else noticed what often, but not always meant closer to fully blooded Krenaiai. Major Rilindisil drank half the glass after letting it air for a mere two minutes, which was rapid for anyone, then he refilled it.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 04:39:39 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

But now we're here in Regent's Park amongst the flowers, and I wish it would rain
'Cause in the sun, you look so lovely that I'm falling for you over again.

As Filaesion set foot on public land, his entire chest tightened painfully, especially while noting he was once more surrounded by trees the way he wasn’t inside Namaire’s house and Court.

It took him five minutes to stop shaking while leaning against a tree, where he vomited three times, snarling as quietly as he could behind a few darkened layers of treeline where he would not be seen. Not a single tear escaped from his eyes. Instead, the shards of despair lay coiled inside him, shredding precious pieces of self he didn't realise were important. Some parts he could repair, and he did after several minutes of panic, eventually, let him go, and he was far away enough that their Bond no longer hummed discordantly with Namaire trying to get his attention.

Rinsing out his mouth with water from a drinking skin and then cleansing his teeth from his kit, he fought to remove her scent from his hands, clothing, hair, and skin and hissed at the remains of an echo of her still there.

It was as if Namaire’s laughter, sharp-bladed, broken and cruel, twisted inwardly on itself inside his head.

Filaesion knew that spiritually, he was damaging himself subtly whenever he tried to scrape the pieces of Lady Vesirin away, but it was the only thing that kept away the horrid dreams of her and more. He caught the Summer sky wind to a tavern he knew some distance away.

If he could not get rid of her scent, he could drown it in strong Craft-touched wine. Surely, that would be more than enough to give some semblance of peace. The Major well understood that six months was not much time; by Yule, she would expect him again and be just bored enough to cause problems, very likely. However, that was a problem and a pain for a time that was not this one, and he could spend enough time forgetting temporarily that it mattered very little between the possibility of good ale and with plenty of light around the bladed arrows and shadows of his mind.

End Thread

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 04:18:32 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

No one wants to hear a song about the bitch that broke my heart
I should've listened to my mama; she saw through you from the start.

Filaesion’s temper brutally, sensually and beautifully snapped. He flipped the entire table across the room with the shift of three fingers. It landed on its feet, broken in half, but not a single teacup, saucer, or even the kettle had been harmed. Each piece of the set floated down in lazy, almost happy spirals through the air.

“No, we will not unless you would like to share a fate with that table.” He opened and unshielded the double doors of the room. He ignored her pleading that followed him out and into the hall, but it was not easy as she kept pulling at him and their Bond. Every single step he paid for, dearly.

The Major’s sharpened steps took him out of Namaire’s sitting room, past one of the other men bonded with their Queen. He managed a Courtly polished smile and kept nausea from his face, aura, and stance. Though, he was neither nauseated nor bothered because his Queen had tried poisoning him physically. That, he was immune to. It was her voice, her touch, everything about her which caused his malady, and that he'd given her any intimacy to escape for a time, especially when Namaire had many that would have and did enjoy her as he did not.

"Prince Rilindisil. Leaving already? Wouldn't care to join us in some sparring, would you?" Said one that he'd served with decades ago in the Red Guard. His name didn't come to Filaesion then, but might later.

“No, thank you. Another time perhaps. I am going, but she is fine. Lady Vesirin needs to be made love, very gently to, and all will be well. If one or more of you could attend to her? That is not my place, as you may remember. Please remind the Lady's Steward if she still has one that she is not to ask for me for six months. We have an agreement.”

The Warlord he spoke to studied him with widened but amused eyes, which held a little concern. “That bad?”

Filaesion’s smile was deadly sharp, and just for this, he removed the layers of glamour, specifically hiding the twin layers of fangs. “No, just that good.” He wanted them to be relieved, not concerned about him, though he felt like some absolute heel for lying.

Another Prince gilding down the stunning staircase chuckled with the Warlord, and for a moment, he wanted to explain. Badly. Instead, the Major tipped his head and bowed his way out. He did not want to be there to see Namaire truly enjoy herself as she had never been able with him because she wanted more than he could give, and very much toxically. The door closed behind him, and he walked back down the elegant white and grey stoned walkway.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 04:05:18 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

I must have sent four hundred poems on the way you used to smile at me
I used to write them for you daily, but my thumbs are running dry lately.

He nodded at the same time she did, though Filaesion’s eyes glittered as she paled a little while going still again, remembering his lethal hand.

“Careful, my Queen," he crooned. "I would not wish to slip.”

Of course, he wouldn’t; the Black Widow Prince was far too skilled for such amateurish murder.

“Only next month?” His voice was tender silk; Filaesion pressed his thumb into Namaire’s lower lip, dragging the long nail in a feathering against her skin. He watched her pupils dilate, taking a grim satisfaction that he could bring her to such an edge of pure heated desire.

“I--need ...” she murmured, unable to think from his touch, and Filaesion wrapped his revulsion of her tight behind sharpened discipline. He did not have to; they both knew the other’s feelings, as pure hate and blended love glittered in Namaire’s gaze.

“I know,” he murmured, ultramarine eyes hard and focused. After all, he was not dead, and his Caste understood a willing body where it rested. But a physical reaction did not always equal true desire.

“My Price is six months. You will not call on me again until then unless it is pure business.”

Always a Price.

“Done. P-please.”

Filaesion Rilinsidil’s heart cracked into several more pieces as he carefully gripped one of Namaire’s breasts, using the layers of silk she wore to his benefit. Or hers? He tried not to think about it, as he knew one of his Bonded brothers would tend to her further. The Major would make sure of it because he was not so cruel that he could leave her there, like this, deserving or not. He dragged his thumb over her nipple with Craft, using each layer of silk to feel as though there were that many more fingers.

Twenty minutes later, Lady Namaire Vesirin was a quivering, grateful wreck on the couch, which would need to be thoroughly cleaned. But not before at least three of her Bonded tended to her further. Watching her breathing heavily and watching him through half-closed eyes, he finished the rest of her poisoned tea to make a point.

“Do not call on me, my Queen. I will call on you.”

Her eyes glittered with want of more, at which he knew her games would continue.

“We shall see--”

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:59:08 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

Since I have nothing left to say that will make you change your mind
I'll say goodbye on a beautiful spring day.

Filaesion continued looking at the half-filled teacup. Slowly, methodically he lifted the tea kettle. Even more slowly, staring into Namaire's eyes, he refilled it. Never once shifting his gaze away from her golden eyes, the Major lifted the cup to his lips and began to drink again, swallowing down every drop in the cup. "That explains the bite, very pleasant," he murmured seductively, settling back against the couch for a moment to study his darling Queen.

“You forget yourself and what I am.” He finally settled his hand around Namaire’s throat, caressing the soft skin there. Once, twice, the touch absolutely erotic and without shame as he loosed the joy of what he was, which he generally concealed only from Namaire these days for his own sanity. He watched the woman’s cheeks flush brightly, allowing her to let down her guard.

Major Rilindisil mourned what he intended to do because there was a small part of him that still loved Lady Namaire and the woman he thought she was when they’d Bonded. As her Rose shields let him in, he waited three seconds, then seven more.

It was to be sure that she gifted him her twisted trust. Filaesion tried not to shudder in horror, then pressed his snake tooth just firmly enough to her skin. Lady Vesirin stilled completely, aware that she couldn’t shield him out due to her inability to focus clearly. “Wait. I ... I’ve actually angered you, my Prince.”

“Yes.” Understatement of the fucking decade.

“... And you want me to stop.”

Finally, some hint of a working mind, Filaesion thought.

“Right, my Lady.”

She shivered, whimpered, and moaned. “You wouldn’t really hurt me, would you?” It irritated him that Namaire was aroused, but Filaesion understood the effect of his presence on her blended with the fear. Part of him enjoyed it, and the Black Widow Prince admitted that carefully to himself without causing further harm.

“I might well do so if you continue,” Filaesion said very softly, the words almost growling due to how low toned his voice was.

“Very well. Tea can be ... over for today, and you may skip next month.”

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:43:20 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

But now we're here in Regent's Park amongst the flowers, and I wish it would rain
'Cause in the sun, you look so lovely that I'm falling for you over again

Namaire tapped her fingers on the table, then folded her arms. It had not always been such that she saw her Bonded males like possessions in a vast collection, but at least for the last fifty years, that had been the case. So she eyed the Black Widow Prince, who refused to bend to her wishes, the decorated Officer of both Black and Red Guard Service.

The man’s will was iron, and his voice made her stomach flutter even when he was reading a benign letter. She knew he was long-lived to some degree but could not figure out why he could trouble her with such ease. There were too many Dea al Mon cultural accents that Lady Namaire disdained entirely as the decades passed.

“So I can keep my tea set, or you? Is that what this is?”

Filaesion tensed, as it was a question he did not expect her to ask. His long, lethal nails tapped lightly upon the cup he held still, then sipped in silence. He drank his tea without sugar or any cream at all, enjoying the rare herbal blends as they were without much change. He watched her for minutes longer, then gasped and snarled as she pulled on their Bond.

Tightly, skillfully, he shielded the teacup in layers of disciplined Rose and slammed it down with a cracking sound louder than the sound of a breaking bone. The cup did not break, but the sound startled Lady Namaire enough to make her stop tearing at him.

They stared at each other, hard, unyielding on both ends.

“You do not get to decide--” she began.

Filaesion cut her off with the sharp movement of his hand down through the air.

“Only I decide my physical, mental, and emotional autonomy, Lady Vesirin--”

A snarl issued from the Queen’s beautiful lips.

“The tea was poisoned,” she said proudly, staring at him.

Filaesion studied the teacup in his hand, then looked at her. "Did you, now?"

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:33:56 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

Tragically, nobody told me how expensive you could be
I lost more than money, dear, you knocked the swagger out of me

He lightly tapped his long nails against his teacup while lifting it to make a point, then watched the calculating rage coil upon her face until she smiled and lifted her teacup in mirroring him. Filaesion’s family had been careful in making sure he was trained as a Black Widow after his snake tooth emerged as a youth. Then the Queen set her teacup back down, almost too slowly.

He considered her death three additional ways as he felt the flaring violence just before she slapped him. The soft, pale white-gloved hand hitting his moon pale skin, hurting all the more for the fabric choice and rings beneath the glove. The Black Widow Prince could have evaded, guarded, pinned the Queen down, or any number of tactics.

Instead, he let her hit him, and it hadn’t been faint.

He could feel the deadened flesh and the still living throb to life around it and the scar; mildly, Filaesion wondered if it could be healed at all. He never shielded his face because he hadn’t wanted her to take out her twisted rage on someone weaker than he was, or worse, someone stronger that might kill her for her lack of Protocol. He barely kept hold of his teacup with Craft and balanced the hot liquid with much practical training.

“Any more outrage today, my lady? I merely wished to be certain so that I could set down your mother’s prized cup and not break it in half.” He said the words smoothly, as seductively as Namaire wished she was and could never be.

The skin of his face was red, while the scar sliced through it still, though it had already begun to bruise. He watched Namaire’s pleased smile, but her false shock that she could further be uncontrolled forced Filaesion to hold back a snort of laughter. He watched her with a perfectly regal expression. It was as if her violence could not truly touch him. Namaire's expression turned puzzled and faintly petulant before she smiled brilliantly. That it affected him at all was jarring—still a stalemate.

“You would never! Please, drink your tea, Prince.”

In response, Filaesion lifted the cup without betraying any emotion even though he felt a great deal and drank smoothly. He poured a second cup, sorely wishing the contents were far stronger. It was true to the extent that he debated throwing something harmless across the room before he might have considered breaking an heirloom item, whether or not it belonged to Lady Namaire. Filaesion knew she valued such belongings and was at least more likely to use Craft to cause pain and leave little to no marks because ruining physical beauty bothered her.

None of her other Bonded males knew the marring of the Black Widow Prince’s face had been Lady Namaire’s work, at least that he was aware. “I might snap off a handle or two if you continue to push into space that I have made clear through careful Protocol over the three decades we have been Bonded that I do not desire with you.” It was a risk, saying as such, and Filaesion knew it. But his options were slowly thinning along with the man’s patience. He caressed the one he was holding, a four-hundred-year-old hand-painted cup and eyed his Queen.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:21:08 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

There was a place not too dissimilar to this one where I first saw your face
You look like home, sat all alone, I should've found somebody cheaper to chase

“You are still in mourning?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” he answered and watched Lady Namaire glide her straight, warm brown hair into his lap. Her scent wrapped around him, and Filaesion wondered if he would need to burn this particular outfit. It was older than his Bond with her, which deeply soured his mood. He could never get her smell out of his clothes well enough, which had the Black Widow Prince floating between panic and anger once more.

“Will you marry--”

The tea kettle protested the grip of his hands; Filaesion could hear the vibration of the ceramic. The man breathed and loosened his grip, then smoothly poured tea for them both despite his Queen trying to stage what appeared to be a seduction. Very poorly, and it scraped against his senses like a knife removing the skin of a barely edible lynx. He waited for her to finish speaking, but instead, Namaire watched him with both impish and vicious manners twined together. It was like sharpened needles along his spine, poking, poking.

“Again, you ask me this? Do you mean yourself? Someone else?” He paused. How to bend this to his benefit, Filaesion wondered. As she grinned, his temper strained and won out.

“Yes, someday. Never you, and yes, absolutely,” he replied acidly, knowing it would set her off, but release a little pressure on him, so he didn’t backhand her or worse. In the last five years, it had been extremely hard for Filaesion to pretend, but in the last two, since his wife had died, it had grown damned near impossible. He took a breath again, intending to be nice when she smoothed her hand down his knee to the inner thigh. Cooly, Major Rilindisil watched Namaire, imagining throwing her against the wall repeatedly.

“I told you before the death of my wife, Lady Namaire, my position, and I have every year since when you have asked. With all due respect to your station, your absolutely exquisite beauty, that I am in mourning.” He paused to sip the tea again.

"Furthermore, my heart is engaged and not toward you that way. I never will be, and your games, my dear, do not work on me.” His low bass, sensual voice speaking the words she did not want to hear deepened the tension in them both.

But Filaesion would truly sooner have fucked a whole tree, splinters and all.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:09:24 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

Since I have nothing left to say that will make you change your mind
I'll say goodbye on a beautiful spring day.

His Queen had two full sisters and no surviving brothers. It took him checking two sitting rooms before he found her, but Prince Filaesion preferred not to rush. She’d seated herself on a two-seater couch in a room that was all white and cream. Most of the rooms here were sterile like that, not in beautiful warm tones of pale oak and living clouds, but as if the life had been torn from the space, and she preferred it. Or perhaps that was the Major’s imagination.

The well-attired Black Widow Prince bowed as the delicate seeming Queen looked up, golden eyes studying him coldly, where he would have preferred anger. She had relatively fair toned skin, with some brown tones. Thank goodness the Queen had a single Caste was his first thought. The second was a concern when she smiled. She’d attired herself in a flattering burgundy gown. If he were younger, it would have swayed him. These days it placed the Black Widow Prince on the edge of considerable uncertainty.

“You are early, my Prince,” said Namaire. The lady pulled hard, unnecessarily on the Bond between them. It both hurt, feeling like acid on his skin and soothing at the same time. He suspected every time she did this, there was some damage done to him, but less because he was darker Jewelled than she was. Lady Namaire did not like him to use his Summer Sky in her presence, but he’d done so just before entering to shield himself, except for his hands and face. He used the allure of false vulnerability to draw her in—the second chess move in a game, not the strongest, but still a good showing.

“Lady Vesirin. I trust you are well?”

Prince Filaesion, Major of the Black Guard and retired Captain of the Red, maintained a cautious, careful distance even as he could feel his stirring rage like angry wasps buzzing around his head. He swallowed hard and dragged in another careful breath. It took thinking of every happy thing he’d ever known even to offer the woman a Court-perfect, politely welcoming smile. Moving to the couch next to her, he sat down and reached for the tea kettle.

Namaire placed both her hands on top of his; Filaesion screamed deep within himself where she’d never find it and could not go. He turned his head to regard his Queen almost woodenly, as if he were a strong Knight upon the chess field of play, knowing he was not free to escape the moves of a powerful Queen. “No tea, my lady? We always have tea, once per month. This was the agreement stipulated in last year’s Contract for my limited presence.”

“Mmm.” She made the soft sound, not committing to his words even though Namaire knew what she’d signed, and though the lady had tried to forge copies to alter their agreement, she had never been able to fight past his darker Summer Sky. Her hands tightened on Filaesion’s, and he flinched as her nails pressed into the side of several callouses. Not because it hurt, but more because he had to fight the urge to physically throw the woman back against the couch in a warning. Today, he did not wish to deal with these issues. Prince Filaesion only wanted a reasonably survivable tea time.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 03:01:27 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

But now we're here in Regent's Park amongst the flowers, and I wish it would rain
'Cause in the sun, you look so lovely that I'm falling for you over again

Despite being a full, ancient and beautiful village, from a distance, it looked hardly different from the rest of the forest, except for hints of buildings here and there and the gracefully winding white and grey cobbled roads and walking spaces. Every so often, there was a well carved wooden post for lamplights filled with witchlight balls attached to Widows’ webs. As he walked toward the travelling pad, Prince Filaesion’s tension rose higher still, but he often used that tension to focus, then pulled himself into the Summer Sky wind.

It did not take long to travel the short distance south, perhaps a half-hour, plus a short walk to where Lady Namaire Vesirin held Court. Filaesion’s pulse quickened while he considered the complicated emotions he felt for his Bonded Queen. Love, even still, because he wanted to believe there remained a good person under the rot and painful lashing out. Rage, because the Black Widow Prince had long grown tired of their decades-long game, and sadness, because he did not understand what the purpose was of Mother Night’s demand, in this case, believing her so much more real than many even within Dea al Mon. Filaesion would have done anything to prove himself worthy of that kind of grace in Darkness. So he stayed through everything.

He found he stood outside the opulent townhouse blank minded for several minutes. It was different from his plainer, more naturally built one, which fit better into the trees without harming. Namaire’s had eventually caused the death of four centuries-old trees, but she had skillfully blamed that loss on tragic accidents. It was a beautiful, elegant building, but Filaesion burned with a rage that the place both fit and did not fit in Dea al Mon. Ultramarine eyes glowed for a moment beneath half-closed eyes, and he used Craft to enter as he was keyed to the front door. A soft Rose pulse and he could warily step inside.

After a slowly drawn breath, smoothing hands down his embroidered vest and neatening the cuffs at his wrists, Filaesion entered the building. Yet, he did this with the same wariness of the insane idea of walking into a dragon’s lair, as he never had any idea what his lady’s mood would be. Some of this was because of chalice damage, which was not her fault. Much still was personality weakness. Unlike some of the Queen’s other Bonded, Prince Filaesion had demurred at the idea of bedding Lady Namaire. She was stunningly beautiful and had a temper to match that loveliness. A month after his wife’s death, she’d been vicious once he fully refused her overtures. It had been two years now since Lady Narolva’s death, and Filaesion had been walking a painfully fine line between taking his Queen’s rages and actually retaliating.

The interior had almost no presence that it had been built out of a still living, hollowed tree. Centuries before Witch’s birth, Namaire’s mother, who had been half Dhemlanese, had this house built for her by the Dea al Mon man she was Bonded to. So there was love in the walls that rang discordantly against the presence of the woman living and holding Court here now.

Polod Province / Re: Bladed Arrows and Shadows
« on: June 25, 2021, 02:55:54 AM »
Musical Inspiration: Regent's Park - Bruno Major
Attire: Near Uniform Craft Armoured Black Suiting Set, Silver Embroidery
Purpose: Solo, Character Building Thread for Filaesion
Time: Late Spring AW 104, Afternoon

No one wants to hear a song about the bitch that broke my heart
I should’ve listened to my mama; she saw through you from the start.

The Rilindisil family was among several families who owned land backing upwards into the Tinu Mountains, at least, and down a long, thin slope moving toward the Fyreborne Sea. This detail was a minor solace. Other people called the sea inlet other names, but most he knew in this area called it Fyreborne after the islands that it was still said held the ancestral home of the dragons. The Major often liked to stand watch from the towers closest to the sea, imagining there perhaps were dragons that might not eat them all for snack and lunch or more.   

Two hours left. Filaesion’s children were being attended to by his beloved Aunt, Ruling Queen of Linithor Village and a few others in Polod. They were far from the Territory Court and unlikely to be much thought beyond security and logistics. Though the barrier had come down, Filaesion had given precious little thought to the world outside of Dea al Mon. It had cost him dearly like many of his kin, and others unrelated, though connected by a love of the sacred forests here.

Ultramarine eyes cast about the austere room to a tall, thin window looking out on endless trees. The view soothed the Major and Prince Filaesion at the same time that it did not. He looked back to the full-length mirror, catching his brilliant eyes in it. For a moment, they glowed, pulsed with brightened colour twice, as the Black Widow Prince’s anger got the better of him.

He took in several more calming breaths while checking over the remainder of his attire, including shoes. Settling into a black wooden chair behind Filaesion and to his left, he removed a heavy silk polishing cloth from his psychic cabinet and started to polish his shoes for a third time, by hand rather than using Craft. It was admittedly overdoing preparations but better to appear as perfect as possible. Still, the slow circular movement allowed the Black Widow Prince to be aware of the sensuality in the way the silk felt in his hands.

Of course, Prince Filaesion could only polish his shoes for so long; he growled and vanished the cloth with annoyance. Rising to his feet, he lifted the chair and returned it to the table and the matching three. He gently cleared three stuffed bears from the table, levitating each one to the toy chest across the sitting room. Leaving the room, he headed to the foyer, then out of his townhouse and to the landing pad at the centre of the village.

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Welcome to Witchlight

We are an AU Black Jewels RPG that is continuously expanding the world lore to truly make it our own. Come join us and play in our sandbox!

Open since 2017, we have 9 unique races, from birds to wolf-shifters. Feel free to drop into our Discord, lurk our wanted ads, and see if Witchlight is the fantasy site you should always have been looking for.

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Witchlight is loosely based upon the Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop though it has been adapted and expanded by our members. All lore, characters, and writing belongs to the members. Site graphics & custom codes were created by the staff. A special thanks to Wolf & Katarina for all their help with the planning of Witchlight and the writing of the base lore.

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