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Alize Morleaú

I wait for my shadow to forget me.

0 · 660 views · located in Fae Realm

a character in “Aes Sídhe”, as played by blondehaired

Description

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n a m e : xxxalize morleaú

a l i a s : xx ice knight xxförfrysning

h u m a nxxn a m e : xxxalexei morant

a g e : xxxthree-hundred twenty-seven

s e x u a l i t y : xxxasexual

c o u r t : xxxwinter court

r o l e : xxxexilexxxescapist

o c c u p a t i o n : xxxdog walker

p r i m a r yxxp o w e r : xxxfrost

s e c o n d a r yxxp o w e r : xxxweather

t h o u g h txxc o l o u r : xxx#300242

d i a l o g u exxc o l o u r : xxx#5E5E5F


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━All others talk as if talk were a D A N C E .


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a p p e a r a n c e

T H E R E xxx has never been an escape from the cold. It clawed onto his back as a king's cape, an army of stalactites taking possession of any warmth he could feel. Maybe this is the payment for his mother's indiscretions in her youth, haunting him in tears that could never remain liquid, and a body that begged for center stage when all Alize wanted to do was hide in a corner. But the avalanche of pale flesh, covered in an armor of ice, no one would mistake him as anything other than his father's child. Even his own eyes, though they could expose his needful glances and desperation for validation, were unforgivingly frigid as they stared back at himself in his father's disappointment, the calculating grey accented by centers of arctic blue. Fingertips outstretched, dipped in a blackened cold that would never heal because they were never wounded in the first place, could never quite reach the warmth he knew was somewhere inside his father's heart. Or maybe he was just as iced over on the inside, and doomed his child to the same fate of frost.

F R O S T xxx is a cloak that weighs down even the lightest of souls. The want to tear away skin and try to find a pulse in blue rivers stark against his skin, begging to feel something. Even dark was more comforting than cold, because it could promise warmth, from the light that shone bright in its absence of it. Eagle-like wings, drenched in sheets of ice and topped with snow like the soft curls atop his head, yearned for escape, even into the dark that made false promises. Dark could reach his hand from its depths and he would never stop wandering, wondering when the lonely cold would end.

G L A M O U R xxx always promised escape. The absence of his mother's features as brown roots bled into chemical blonde hair, the absence of his father's features as eyes that usually avoided the gaze that would turn back on him melted, warmed into brown like a tree trunk before a fresh snow. And promises of being hidden, thick cable knit sweaters that engulfed him and long coats that kept his body tucked away. Humans may have seasons but all Alize has known is cold, too dark veins running through peachy skin, frost billowing from his lips even when the sun has shined too long on the day.


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━I , with clumsy feet, would break the gliding ring.


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p e r s o n a l i t y

T H E R E xxx is no need to pretend that he doesn't hear his name whispered in orchestrated rumors and tales of a dark curse that seeped into his fingers. It is easier to pretend that he is everything they expect him to be, despite a needy heart gasping for affection when shame is spun tight around its throat. No one ever asked if he wanted to be his mother's child, though what kind of child would he be to bite the only hand that feeds him?

C O L D xxx hands that promised misplaced affection through isolation, the paranoia eating at her mind and her only anchor in reality being the pale skinned boy who always begged for warmth instead. One could wonder if a summer fae lay dormant in the ice, waiting for the sun to crack through the prison and free them from all the shivering. But the boy is his father's child, though no one pretends he doesn't dream of a better child except for his own validation.

M O T H E R xxx clung harder to her boy as each disappointment knocked him off his feet. No matter how tall he climbed, the expectations were a mountain that grew taller with each snow fall. Maybe it isn't a summer fae locked inside, but all the ways he could have been someone else. Not surviving on the validation of others, becoming more than a shell of ice that could perform anyone's desires like a properly trained show dog.

Y E S , xxx there were those who knew how to disguise their desires, let each word he wanted to hear guide him into an idealistic world where he desired the same things. An ice knight, wouldn't that make your father proud? He listened dutifully, loyally, and clung to each word as an icicle clings to the side of a roof, slowly melting off.

T H I N K I N G xxx for himself was not something he was asked to do. But the sharp sting of clarity provided a "someone else" no one would recognize as Alize. Förfrysning, the undesirable blackness that shrouded his life, became a call to arms. One word that would never pass a fae's lips the way his own name did.


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l i k e s

looking at the stars xxx hot cocoa xxx hugs xxx snow cone machines xxx big coats xxx big sweaters xxx big dogs xxx cigarettes xxx the ocean xxx heated blankets xxx fireplaces xxx spicy foods xxx honey xxx chocolate icecream xxx hamburgers xxx loud techno music xxx boots xxx leather gloves xxx coffee shops xxx shopping aimlessly xxx flying xxx running xxx early mornings xxx singing xxx

d i s l i k e s

humans xxx sweat xxx his abilities xxx his father xxx soup xxx jewelry xxx crying xxx being woken up xxx clouds xxx rain xxx rumors xxx small spaces and feeling trapped xxx white clothing xxx feeling weak xxx birds xxx strawberries xxx bare hands xxx candles xxx slow music xxx dancing xxx short showers xxx spontaneity xxx blueberries xxx physical touch xxx


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s t r e n g t h s

C O M P A S S I O N . xxx His heart has not turned to ice just yet. Those who meet him find their heart safe in his hands, delicate and understanding. The word's cruelty toward him is no excuse for others to experience the same.

E S C A P I S M . xxx Hiding is not an option for a knight of any court, and especially not so for a giant of a fae hunching his twelve foot frame to pass through doorways. However, his abilities that proved him a worthy knight were those that helped him find a different option of escape: helping others leave the place he's been desperate to leave for centuries.

O B S E R V A T I O N . xxxA calculated gaze across the room is a life or death difference when the fae following is a wanted criminal. Alize keeps a close eye on his surroundings; the danger of a compassionate heart and what it led him to do gave him a creeping sense of paranoia that keeps him alert.


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w e a k n e s s e s

I D E A L I S M . xxx The perception of Earth and the "better place" it would be were misguided, as well as his thoughts of humans that would open him up to the warmth he's so fond of. Alize has many ideas that would not agree with his reality.

L O N E L I N E S S . xxx A burden that has wrenched his heart since his childhood locked away by fragility and his mother's anxieties that he too would be gone one day. There has never been a lover to create warmth with, though he hardly believed anyone would want to reach past the frost.

R E C K L E S S . xxx To shirk away a comfortable life in the courts as their lap dog, helping faes who would suffer in the winter courts forever without him, is not the only thoughtless thing he's done.


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m a g i cxx&xxequipment

F R O S T . xxx Icicles flung from fingertips instead of blades and snow falling from his breath, his cold is more than just appearances. The cold can seep out from his insides, channeling into anything he desired. Alize's touch can manipulate the outside too, subjecting others to his cold. The cold has helped him become the someone else he's wanted to be, when he can use the abilities for erasing a smuggled fae's steps in the snow and creating a wall of ice to stop anyone following their path.

W E A T H E R . xxx A sudden out pour of rain or snow just from the thought of it, no longer the sky's control but his own, but never for long. Or a field of fog, a shroud for the perfect escape when waiting for dark would be too long.

G L O V E S . xxx Stark black leather, created by an Earthly craftsman known Ralph Lauren, inslute his hands so that others don't have to feel the ice in his hands.


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━Nothing was burning, nothing but I .


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h i s t o r y

T H E xxx arms of the winter court had never been welcoming, but their cruelty was sharper than she remembered. Time would not heal her wounds, they promised, or her reputation. Centuries passed, and thoughts of her Starkeeper, and the child with her skin and his endless eyes, were still fresh as a first snowfall on her mind. Her emptied womb yearned for new life, one that she would promise all her love to. Polaris was an easy solution, but a bandaid on wound deeper than flesh

C R A C K E D xxx ice. The flesh that made her little Alize was the hairline fractures of a frozen lake with too much pressure. Ice not yet formed to make him whole, and the defeated gaze of his father, wondering how he created something so fragile, so breakable. He almost seemed fearful to touch Alize, like his stony grip would break him. Yukijorō could never hold him tight enough, and kept him to the house as her greatest treasure. He felt it shaking from within her, the sting of fear that he could he torn from her at any moment. It only made him feel worse that he wanted to tear away.

P O L A R I S xxx held want in his eyes the same way Alize did, the desperation clinging to the bright rings. His eyes held visions of a stronger son, one that could live up to the Morleaús and their stone wall strength. A line of giant ice statues, warriors for the winter Lord but never part of the nobility. Strength meant pride, a shine of approval to eat away at all the want Alize couldn't satisfy before.

S T R E N G T H xxx came from within; it wasn't a change of mind or a sense of self-worth, but the ice that craved his touch, and moved at his beckoning. The chance to be everything he ever wanted because of who he already was.

A L I Z E xxx sought refuge from disappointment in the ranks of the ice knights. The prize of his mother's eyes was him, but the prize of his father's eyes was Alize's silver cloak, the winter court crest that all knights would wear emblazoned on his back. The knights were a pack of mutts trained to follow every word the Lord commanded. The more their loyalty was tested, the more they were adorned for their service, as they proved themselves to be desperately faithful to their handler. Alize decorated his chest with his unwavering desire to obey their commands and please them.

C R Y I N G xxx little fae approached the young knight and begged for his help. The court would no longer welcome her if they'd known what she'd done. He saw in her eyes a reflection of himself, unwanted by those around him and a desperation to belong somewhere. She needed somewhere better. He would smuggle her to the veil between the courts and earth, where they wouldn't leave her out in the cold. There was a rush, doing something he wasn't supposed to do, and helping a fae in need was exactly what a true knight was supposed to do.

F Ö R F R Y S N I N G , xxx they called him. A legend among the courts of a fae smuggler none would recognize as the snow-haired ice knight. As shadowy as a myth, it was his own selfish pride that fueled his reckless desire to help. Selfishness that brought him to smuggle those who could not hide their absence. It wasn't the threat of getting caught, even a fulfilled sense of duty, that froze Alize to his core. It was the shameful, fearful gaze of his father when his selfishness demanded Polaris' approval. Nothing rings in his head more than his father's solid voice breaking, the "Alize, what have you done?" cracking from his lips. The Earth has taken the shards left of Alize, a century of moving from studio apartment to studio apartment to avoid the shame of the winter court and the suspicious gaze of humans he feared.


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c h a r a c t e rxxs h e e txbyxxxlayla
f a c e c l a i mxxxemil lennstrand
p l a y e dxxb yxxxthe writer's voice

quotes provided from "Caedmon", by Denis Levertov.

So begins...

Alize Morleaú's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Orhien Naena Character Portrait: Amaya Kyotsuki Character Portrait: Mariko Kimura Character Portrait: Kazimír Šťastný Character Portrait: Aurora Kinski Character Portrait: Ryu Se-Ri Character Portrait: Alize Morleaú Character Portrait: Cullen Lawrence Character Portrait: Kelvin Woods Character Portrait: Petunia Griffin Character Portrait: Illyana Bárány Character Portrait: Ryu Yeong Character Portrait: Tae Jeong Character Portrait: Lilith Averescu
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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#, as written by Layla
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▁ ▂ ▃xxxH I G Hxxxxxx ▁ ▂ ▃xxx31/12/17 : 1100xxxxxx▁ ▂ ▃xxxW H E R ExxxW O R L D SxxxC O L L I D E
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xxxxxxThe moon released its cold, blue breath. Her sisters followed; speckles of starlight coming to life across the cold expanse overhead. And like a milky way on earth, the faelights that hovered untethered to mortal devices illuminated a path deep into the woods. Human passersby steered clear of the forest that emanated terror and demise, ushered away by a cleverly crafted glamour.
xxxxxxThose that dared venture into the sprawling canopies and distant shadows would find a mirage—an illusion that broke like water when prodded. And through this unseen wall—magic. For on the final night of every year, exiles and Fey without allegiance—or "freefolk," as was polite to call them—gathered in the fringes of New York City to celebrate the end of the earth's rotation.
xxxxxxThrough the veil were colours unseen by the human eye. Beads of light hung from the branches of ancient trees, their fingertips caressing the tips of faerie wings. A river snaked through the celebrations, spelled to bubble with a thick and cloying liquid of darkest gold.
xxxxxxFey danced to music that swelled like waves and descended in waterfalls. An alluring flute murmured its tune from the fingers of a sylph, urging lost humans to dance their worries away. Until their feet blistered, bled, and broke.
xxxxxxThe couples and groups twirling to the symphony were immune to such temptations, as they, too, had been forged of impossible things. A little blue boy giggled in his mother's arms as she twirled him 'round and 'round, her lips peeling back to reveal small, pointy teeth that could shatter human bones. Another girl blushed, her skin morphing into the emeralds and mahoganies of the trees behind her as if she could disappear into the belly of a trunk.
xxxxxx"Oi, watch it!" shouted a man—who was also a goat. Thankfully, from the waist down. He glared over his shoulder at the rather ordinary looking fellow stumbling past him. The subject of his distaste grunted and waved his mug of honeyed tea, its contents sloshing over the sides and between his fingers.
xxxxxx"S'ry," he murmured, scrunching his nose. Suddenly, a sneeze erupted from him, the strength of it tossing him backward into a crate of candied apples and lifting the skirts of some wayward ladies. They squealed, sending of breath of frigid air that melded his hand to his mug.
xxxxxx"Oh, come on," he groaned, rolling onto his side and falling to the dirt. He blinked. And squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them. Closed. For surely, he must be mistaken. Or inebriated.
xxxxxxFor through the thicket of bushes and leaves, a set of ruby orbs peered into the revelry. But before the man could yell, the redcap scuttled away into darkness, leaving only a murky memory in its wake.

▁ ▂ ▃ ▂ ▁


xxxxxxAmaya peered through the lens of her microscope at the bronze watch on her worktop. Joji hummed overhead, the tremble and thump of his synth filling the old antique store with contemporary music. Amaya exhaled to his croon, and wiggled the burnisher into the bezel of the old watch.
xxxxxx"Hey grand- Shit!" A cacophony of tumbling wood and smashing metal followed his expletives, ending with the sharp punctuation of his pained wail. "Ow, ow, ow!"
xxxxxxAmaya did not look up from her work as she said, "That's $6,410 worth of priceless artifacts you just knocked over."
xxxxxx"My femur! My femur!"
xxxxxx"Is decidedly less valuable," she murmured, slipping the watch's crystal face over the dial. "What are you doing in my shop, Ishaan?"
xxxxxx"What most people do in shops? Buy things?" Ishaan emerged from behind a glass cabinet stuffed with various deadly instruments and one too many skulls. "Though I can't imagine how anyone finds anything in this place. When was the last time you organised?"
xxxxxx"It's organised."
xxxxxxIshaan looked around him at the various texts and materials littered throughout the store, all of which seemed to have been placed without reason. A cluster of feathered pens sat beside a fraying Jack-o'-lantern; a pile of rare manuscripts were poised precariously atop a sealed bottle of indiscernible liquid; a frightening puppet with only one eye hung beside a brilliant chandelier of molten gold.
xxxxxx"Right," said Ishaan.
xxxxxx"Well?" Amaya prodded. "Out with it."
xxxxxx"We need Pandora's Box for the New Year's celebrations."
xxxxxxAmaya lifted her head to pin Ishaan with her black stare. She raised a brow. "Do you?"
xxxxxx"Well, yes. Obviously. Because I just said-"
xxxxxx"It was a rhetorical question."
xxxxxx"Oh."
xxxxxxMoments passed, the silence interjected only by the soft ticking of the watch Amaya held in her hands.
xxxxxx"Soooo..." Ishaan began. "Can you do it?"
xxxxxx"Yes."
xxxxxx"Will you do it?" he clarified.
xxxxxx"What happened to the box I gave you last year?"
xxxxxx"Uh..." Ishaan smiled sheepishly. "We broke it."
xxxxxx"How?"
xxxxxx"Gertrude was gassy."
xxxxxx"That literally explains nothing."
xxxxxx"Gertrude is part orc."
xxxxxx"Oh. That explains everything." They shared a slow nod of understanding. Without warning, Amaya stood, wiping her hands on the cloth strewn over her chair. "Don't break anything or I'll sell your organs on the black market to make up my losses."
xxxxxxAmaya glided between the mountain of objects seemingly without care as Ishaan tiptoed behind her. She ducked, disappearing into a narrow passageway that opened up to reveal a marginally wider door. She twisted the handle and stepped in.
xxxxxx"You don't lock it?" Ishaan asked.
xxxxxx"Why? Would you steal from me?" she replied.
xxxxxx"N-no. Geez. Of course not. Please stop looking at me.”
xxxxxxA flood of cold air greeted them. Colder even than the Winter beyond the store's four walls. The room glowed with an eerie blue light. This was Amaya's real collection. The priceless Fey objects and relics beyond the innocuous storefront that declared this place the Home of Intangible Things.
xxxxxxPotions swirling with incandescent hues perched on shelves etched with ancient runes; a wiry potted plant emitted an eerie glow in a corner; a book whose cover shifted with every minute hovered within a glass dome. Yet Amaya ignored all these as she approached a box the size of her palm. She lifted it, peeling back the velvet cloth that encased it.
xxxxxx"Here," she said. "You'll owe me a favour for this."
xxxxxx"Yeah, yeah. I know the rules. But," he chewed his lip, "we were actually hoping for another favour from you. Could you, maybe, attend the celebrations and call upon the box yourself? Its sister was so unruly last year. We had no idea how to get it back in once we'd opened it."
xxxxxx"Put three objects of personal value into the box and call-"
xxxxxx"Yeah, we got your instructions last time. But those rascals inside are hard to wrestle."
xxxxxx"You'll have to pay extra."
xxxxxx"Already on it." Ishaan waved his arm. "My sister has a gem from one of the late king's crowns. So, deal?"
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head, fixing him with her stare. "Deal."

▁ ▂ ▃ ▂ ▁


xxxxxxThe box held within it collective memories—whispers of another time before the courts had been forged and anarchy reigned. Four powerful faeries had gathered to forge an alliance, carving into a map the lines of their rule. The Courts embodied the balance of the natural world. The seasonal courts—Summer and Winter—would share the earth's cycle, shifting their power to reflect changes in the climate. The courts of Dark and High would create chaos and maintain order, so that the world would not fall into excess. A High Lady or Lord would command each court, with their mates at their side.
xxxxxxAmaya stood at the centre of a clearing, where a crowd had gathered in anticipation of the night's ritual. The midnight hour neared.
xxxxxxA strand of alabaster hair fluttered into Amaya’s line of vision. She beat her papery wings and the small gust that followed lifted her hair from her face. Her off-the-shoulder dress swished around her ankles, their opal colours changing in the dim light that emanated from the faelights.
xxxxxxAmaya paid her audience no head as she twisted the box’s moving parts, spinning the sundial leftward until—like a setting sun that had met its end—it was eclipsed by a silver moon. She spun both ends of the box until the flourishing green tress met its barren twin on the other side.
xxxxxxPandora’s box unlocked.
xxxxxxA burst of red light blinded the Fey, and when it retreated, a chorus of cheers rose from them. Scarlet figures of smoke and vapour danced above their heads, wielding small swords and spinning in skirts that left faint trails behind them. The musicians began their symphony.
xxxxxxAmaya tilted her head upwards to watch the memories unfurl, her eyelids fluttering shut against their brilliance. The glow of the figures bounced off the crescent moon on her forehead, the curved mark scattering the colours into a kaleidoscopic dance.
xxxxxxSuddenly, a small red dancer turned and screamed.
xxxxxxAmaya's eyes snapped open. She turned as the people forged of red smoke raced with a fervour, screeching as they fought to return to their box. Large figures of flesh and bone rose behind them, their forearms encased in metal, their faces cloaked in armour. They wore the uniforms of the High Court's royal guard—a legion sworn to protect the faerie on the throne—but their magic did not solely belong to the High Court. A faerie with a swarm of straw-blonde hair threw a column of flame into the throngs of Fey fleeing the woods.
xxxxxx"Give us the Halflings," called a woman in copper armour. "And we might consider granting you exiles and traitors a merciful death."
xxxxxxAmaya had stilled, enraptured by the woman's familiar form, and the emerald eyes that peered from the slit in her helmet. Airell. The girl had been her friend, once. Or as close to a friend as one could find when one was imprisoned in a tower.
xxxxxxThe luck fae had warned her of this. Kazimír Šťastný. He had told her of the late king's downfall and her role in his child's resurrection. He had said with some mirth that she owed him a debt. He had saved her life, he'd claimed. When he was just a child, and she the prisoner of the High Lady of the Dark Court. She had not wanted to believe him, but she did remember him. The small boy with smaller antlers who had come to her cell and offered her luck.
xxxxxx"Feykiller," Airell intoned. "I did not expect to see you. Today must be my lucky day."
xxxxxxAmaya turned and ran.
xxxxxx"Fleeing again, are we?" Airell called out. "Where is the Blood Moon our keepers worshipped?"
xxxxxxAmaya darted between the trees, whizzing left and right until Airell's flames vanished behind her.
xxxxxxA little blue girl collapsed to her knees. "Mama!" she wailed. "Mama!" But the Fey around her did not stop. They had become cruel in their haste to survive.
xxxxxx"Hold on to me," Amaya barked. She wrapped her arms around the small girl, who clung to her with a grip that was unexpected of such a small creature, and ran.
xxxxxx"This way!" she called out to the faeries fleeing aimlessly through the woods. "There's a path that leads out of the forest into a human Walmart and cave on the way should we need to hide. Follow the trees with the crawling vines and blue flowers until you near a small ravine. Quickly. Quietly."
xxxxxxThe Fey stumbled through the darkened woods, a petite Summer faerie emitting a tentative glow to illuminate their path. Amaya looked over her shoulder to see the faeries who had stayed behind to fight the invasion, and those who were sprawled on the ground. They were much too still.
xxxxxx"Found you."
xxxxxxAmaya twisted, flinging the small child forward and into the thicket—better bruised than dead—as Airell lobbed a dozen black arrows toward her with nothing but a thought.

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Character Portrait: Alize Morleaú
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INTO THE REALM OF ALWAYS LOOKING BEHIND YOUR BACK.

"Hannah? Yeah, it's Alexei. Um... I need to go away for a while. Well, I'm not quite sure when I'm coming back. You could do that, what does leasing mean? Oh, okay. Yeah. Oh, the cat? She's uh, I was- I was watching her for my sister. She'll be leaving with me. I'm sorry, Tuna is a great cat. Haha, I'll see what my sister says when I get back from my trip. Alright. I gotta get going. Thanks, Hannah. Bye."

The last shred of Alexei Morant ended with that phone call. Alize crossed through the veil back into the realm of fae, where the chill that ran down his spine was not of his own coldness. He had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder expecting someone to be there. He'd managed to stop himself from doing that.

The party of faes was glittering. He'd seen some of these faes, plenty of them, but he wasn't the only smuggler in the realm, just the best. Criminals of the realm, or faes on their last legs, some would be here now pretending that the life they had before never happened. If only he could do the same. Alize had forsaken the "free folk", accepting isolation and rotating door of roommates as his new people. Hannah has been the only one who knew him as more than their quiet roommate who always paid the rent on time.

A cup of honey slipped into his hand within the first few minutes, and he calmed the rumbling storm in his belly with the golden liquid. If he had to shake the glamour from his bones and adorn the eyes that had last looked on him in fear, he needed more than just his own strength. And the honeyed drink was sweet on his lips, urging him for more.

Alize didn't know why he was here. He knew what had surpassed the last few days. A fae he knew from days before he realized he didn't deserve warmth, Lilith Averescu, had come to him with the idea of adventure and finding the lost child of Gawain. He wouldn't be proud to admit it, but it was the idea of having a friend again that brought him to the back of the pack, though he still wasn't sure he could fight as they wanted. There was a time when blood against his chest would have made him proud, because he knew that he would make his father proud.

He didn't want to be back in the Winter Courts, but Earth wasn't that great either. It was here, in the middle of fae and humanity, that he didn't feel like an outcast. He felt like nothing. He liked the thought of that, a twelve-foot ex-ice knight feeling like nothing. Nothing was a good place to be, where he could slip into the throng of honey-eyed dancers and feel like one of them.

Okay, a full cup of honey might have been a bad idea. But he'd never danced before, not like this. Hannah and the girls she went to college with went out a lot on Friday nights, and she'd always ask for him to join. But this, the people who looked like him, this was better than "two dollar vodka-crans" that Hannah always raved about. The facade of being nothing was broken by a single world. "Forfrysning." The boy of ice flipped around, half tumbling into the gaggle of faes dancing wildly beside him, before his eyes land on a girl of shadows, skin as dark as a midnight without stars. The little fae was a dark court deserter, one too important to leave and yet her pleas touched his soul far too deeply to make her stay. "Forfrysning. You saved my life, I can't repay-"

Both of them froze at the chaos that started around them. "Oh god-"