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Amaya Kyotsuki

"Every moon is brutal, every sun bitter."

0 · 984 views · located in Fae Realm

a character in “Aes SΓ­dhe”, as played by Layla

Description

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β—’
β—’β—’ n a m e : xxxamaya kyotsuki

β—’β—’ a l i a s : xxblood moonxxxstarkeeperxxxfeykiller

β—’β—’ h u m a nxxn a m e : xxxkyoko tsukishiro

β—’β—’ a g e : xxxseven-hundred and twelve

β—’β—’ s e x u a l i t y : xxxheterosexual

β—’β—’ c o u r t : xxxdark court

β—’β—’ r o l e : xxxexilexxxkeeper

β—’β—’ o c c u p a t i o n : xxxrare books and antiques trader

β—’β—’ p r i m a r yxxp o w e r : xxxcosmos

β—’β—’ t h o u g h txxc o l o u r : xxx#375F77

β—’β—’ d i a l o g u exxc o l o u r : xxx#87AFC7


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━━━━━━━━━━like the earth and moon i am covered with craters and scars. that is not something i need to be saved from


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β—’β—’ a p p e a r a n c e

R i v e r s xxxof silver cascaded down her spine, twisting around the dainty wings that sprung from her back. Veins bled into the clear surface of her wings like cobwebs, casting their iridescent hue in the light. Her skin shimmered in the noon, as if brushed with a thin layer of frost. In her sleep, Amaya appeared corpse-like, the blue rivers on her eyelids still and stark against her flesh. Amaya had always been her mother's child; her ivory skin and snow-soft hair echoed the sylphs of the Winter court. However, her glittering black eyes belonged to the Dark Court where her father once resided, as did her preternatural grace, which whispered of shadows and starless nights. A single crescent moon glimmered between her brow, its silver light scattered by flecks of midnight blue.

H e rxxxhuman glamour was not unlike her true form, though her forehead was unmarred. A pair of black spectacles sat on her nose, disguising the light-devouring irises no glamour had successfully hidden from mortal eyes. Rather than the wavy silver hair that fell to her hips, her mortal facade appeared pearl blonde, with the faintest hint of darker roots relaying some chemical assistance. Her ruby lips were bright against her skin and echoed the light smear of carmine around her eyes. Dark lashes framed her gaze like wispy curtains, emphasised by a thin line of kohl.

C h o k e r sxxxwere her mortal jewellery of choice. They hovered above sharp clavicles, which were adorned in ink portraying the phases of the moon. The flat expanse of her abdomen was often visible in the crop tops she favoured and the legs of her 5'4" frame were exposed in the shorts and skirts she wore. Some days Amaya favoured dresses of blue or black, accompanied by strappy sandals and bare feet.


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━i am my mother's child. i'll love you till my breathing stops


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β—’β—’ p e r s o n a l i t y

T h e r e xxxwere few who carried the heavy pitchers of silence as carefully as Amayaβ€”without spilling a drop. She spoke little, if at all. The sentences that emerged from her either derived from necessity or some reflexive need to retaliate in battles of quip and cunning. Winter and darkness had fused into one girl with the stillness of ice and the corrosiveness of cynicism. She was wryly funny at her best, and savage at her worst. Her silence was frustrating and blissful, for she had little to say that was not brutal.

A m a y a xxxwas prone to honesty even more so than most Fey, and were she given the choice, she'd be unlikely to deceive. When asked of her origins, she responded that she came from the land of the Fey, where rivers flowed backwards and raindrops glistened like sunlight. Yet for all the truths she'd spoken, Amaya had rarely been believed.

A l t h o u g h xxxher tongue was wicked, her hands were gentle. Amaya tended to the rickety antiques and secondhand books of her store as if they were newborn babes. She nursed injured birds to health and tended her plants with the care of a Summer Fey. For though she was dreadful to most humans and Fey, she found solace in the inanimate, particularly the old and abandoned. That anyone would value something so obviously useless and beyond repair was a source of eternal amusement, and perhaps unbeknownst to herβ€”of hope.

A m a y a xxxwas not lovely, selfless or charming. She was exactly and unapologetically who she appeared to beβ€”an honest, cynical girl, who neither wished to be saved nor to save. If she felt any guilt for her past, it was not evident in the least, and if she had any desires for her future, it was only to have one, or not. Though her father was a keeper of wishes, it seemed to most that Amaya was a creature completely without desire.


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━it’s calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion


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β—’β—’ l i k e s

refrigerators xxx blankets xxx documentaries xxx small, enclosed spaces xxx buns, mochi, other soft, perfectly round things xxx animals xxx snow xxx rain xxx science museums xxx NASA xxx conspiracy theories xxx antiques xxx reading xxx writing xxx cooking shows xxx curly straws xxx big shirts xxx noise-cancelling headphones xxx ice-skating xxx oceans xxx bubble baths xxx plants xxx terrariums xxx astrology xxx teapot sweaters

β—’β—’ d i s l i k e s

computer updates xxx towers, skyscrapers, high places xxx loud voices xxx alcohol xxx house work xxx Christmas carols xxx food with faces on them xxx The Notebook xxx potatoes xxx high heels without grip xxx turtles xxx construction noise xxx cigarettes xxx socks sliding off in shoes xxx electronic music xxx idiots xxx fluorescent lights xxx summer xxx Fey courts


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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━i am tired of my grief


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β—’β—’ s t r e n g t h s

K n o w l e d g e ; xxxhaving been at one point the heir apparent to the Keeper of the Dark Court. Amaya possessed ample knowledge of the world of the Fey in respects to its organisms, history and geography.

T e a c h i n g ; xxxalthough socially inept, Amaya was a surprisingly adept teacher of the magical arts. She had been trained by some of the Fey realm's finest instructors and possessed a wildly uncontrollable power of her own, which necessitated some finesse.

P o k e rxxf a c e ; xxxmost might imagine Amaya to be devoid of emotion for all her expression conveyed.


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β—’β—’ w e a k n e s s e s

A c r o p h o b i a ; xxxa crippling fear of heights

P h y s i c a l i t y ; xxxif one were to imagine a person with the endurance of a sloth and the strength of a deer, one might imagine Amaya.

C h i l d r e n ; xxxwere the only sentient creatures she could stand. Babies and children evoked a maternal instinct most presumed the apathetic Feykiller not to possess. A child was innocent in a way no adult was, and so she valued a young life above all others.


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β—’β—’ m a g i c

C o s m o s; xxxa rare magic that enabled Amaya to generate and manipulate the energy of astronomical objects, such as meteors, stars and black holes. At its pinnacle, Cosmos was a destructive power without direction, capable of annihilating most anything in its path. She radiated the energy of stars, casting its wrath in a radius that did not know friend from foe. Amaya was able to forge powerful beams of starlight, which struck her opponents like a physical blow. Meteors rained from the skies at her command, and objects crumbled and were consumed by her black holes. All light could be devoured, leaving her enemies in total darkness.

H o w e v e r , xxx the magic of the Cosmos came at a terrible cost. Like a supernova, it devoured everything around it, including its host. The Starkeepers before her were creatures of indomitable strength and apathy, their humanity waning coals. With every execution of her power came the erosion of her emotionality and body. Such gifts were not made to be used lightly and thus could rarely be employed. Amaya had not done so in nearly a century.

W a y f i n d i n g xxxwas Cosmos' gentler facade. It enabled Amaya to navigate the world through the stars and be for ever aware of the true North. And a mere side effect of her gifts allowed her to drip starlightβ€”often unawaresβ€”so her hair floated gently and her skin softly glowed. It was a mere parlour trick more often than not, but one that was remarkably useful when guiding people through darkness.


β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€β–€
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━it’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. we have no scar to show for happiness


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β—’β—’ h i s t o r y

S t a r k e e p e r , xxxthey called him. Keeper of Chaos. Him of the obsidian gaze, in which all the knowledge of the world slumbered. They said to look into his eyes was to see the world's darkness and light in one breath; to be confronted with regret and hope; sorrow and joy. The Starkeeper heard every wish, every conflict, every shame and hope. He was one of fourβ€”the Keeper of the Dark Courtβ€”alongside the golden-eyed Keeper of Summer, the silver-gazed Keeper of Winter, and the ruby-orbed Keeper of High. Together they were the gates and locks to all that was and would ever be, each a vessel to contain a facet of all life.

T h exxK e e p e r s xxxwere sworn to celibacy. The essence of all things demanded neutralityβ€”where balance was impossibly fragileβ€”and so the Keepers were destined to for ever be alone in their immortal shells. Yet on a night blistered by infinite burning suns, the Starkeeper found a single star that raged brighter than all. Her name was Yukijorō.

T h e y xxf l e d , xxxbut with every step, his immortality waned. His raven hair paled. His flesh withered. His bones crumbled. All that would be left when Yukijorō wailed his nameβ€”hands upon her swollen bellyβ€”would be ash and dust. Until even that was no more. When Yukijorō returned to the Winter Court, her family turned away in shame and fear. For the baby she held swaddled in her arms had eyes of impenetrable darkness, their black irises so complete they swallowed the light.

T h exxN i g h txxC o u r t xxx offered her refuge. For though they condemned her father for relinquishing his duty for as petty a thing as love, they saw in his child the embers of a Keeper. So they wrenched the babe from her mother's arms, and shut the gates.

O v e r xxxthe years, they nurtured the blue flames that writhed inside the girl, urging her to sink into her power, which they told her had no depth. There in the seclusion of her tower, she was kept from the world and the world from her. There would be no love to taint the purity of her gifts. No sorrow nor joy. Her only reprieve from her seclusion was in times of chaos, when the Dark Court unleashed her power on their trespassers. Feykiller, the common folk called her. Blood Moon. But her protectors and captors called her Amayaβ€”night rain.

B u t xxxAmaya was her father's child, and the plague that devoured him would consume her, too. For when she laid eyes upon the High Lord of the Dark Court, she fell completelyβ€”and irrevocablyβ€”in love. Kaval swore to whisk her into the shadows, where he would flee the confines of his Queen and Court, and she the confines of her tower. So there she waited in the belly of a cave, beneath the light of a blood moon that scorched the earth red. But he never came.

I n s t e a d xxxthe royal guard marched forth and took her in their grasp, whisking her away into a castle of black stone, to the feet of a Queen drenched in rage. "Kill her," the High Lady of the Dark Court intoned. "Make it long and terrible. A slice for every broken shard of my heart." And so they did. Her agony was perpetual, her regret unfathomable. But before death could claim her, a blade was thrust into the chests of her tormentors. Kaval stood against the sliver of light that trickled through her dungeon window. "You've come to take me away," she whispered. "No," he said. "I've come to say goodbye."

F o r xxxthough his love for her could not conquer his devotion to his Court and Queen, his guilt demanded her escape. She was to live her life in exile, never to return home.


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━━━━━━━━━━maybe the sun will explode and the moon will fly out of orbit. maybe I will burn so fast there won’t even be time for me to think of you once more


c h a r a c t e rxxs h e e txbyxxxlayla
f a c e c l a i mxxxjinsoul
p l a y e dxxb yxxxlayla

So begins...

Amaya Kyotsuki's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amaya Kyotsuki Character Portrait: Lilith Averescu Character Portrait: Aurora Kinski Character Portrait: Alize MorleaΓΊ Character Portrait: Petunia Griffin Character Portrait: Orhien Naena Character Portrait: Kelvin Woods Character Portrait: Mariko Kimura Character Portrait: KazimΓ­r Ε Ε₯astnΓ½ Character Portrait: Cullen Lawrence Character Portrait: Ryu Se-Ri Character Portrait: Tae Jeong Character Portrait: Illyana BΓ‘rΓ‘ny Character Portrait: Ryu Yeong
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Layla
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▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxxH I G Hxxxxxx ▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxx31/12/17 : 1100xxxxxx▁ β–‚ β–ƒxxxW 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 mirageβ€”an illusion that broke like water when prodded. And through this unseen wallβ€”magic. For on the final night of every year, exiles and Fey without allegianceβ€”or "freefolk," as was polite to call themβ€”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 manβ€”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.

▁ β–‚ β–ƒ β–‚ ▁


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."

▁ β–‚ β–ƒ β–‚ ▁


xxxxxxThe box held within it collective memoriesβ€”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 courtsβ€”Summer and Winterβ€”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 untilβ€”like a setting sun that had met its endβ€”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 guardβ€”a legion sworn to protect the faerie on the throneβ€”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. KazimΓ­r Ε Ε₯astnΓ½. 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 thicketβ€”better bruised than deadβ€”as Airell lobbed a dozen black arrows toward her with nothing but a thought.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Amaya Kyotsuki Character Portrait: Ryu Yeong
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Gunbae! Bar had been in a rare state of static before she entered. Yeong had leant over the back of the bar, wiping its alcohol-damp surface down with a flannel, when he had heard the door open.

"Sorry, we're closed."


He'd called out without bothering to turn, anticipating a frustrated groan and the clicking of the door closing. When such sounds did not materialise, he sighed, and turned to face the stranger.

"I said, we're clo-"


His words caught in his throat, his tired expression evaporating into something unreadable. Her face, too, was unreadable. So sangfroid were her features, they seemed unfamiliar despite their familiarity. The face was the same, but not how it expressed itself, like a work of art put into a completely different frame, or a plant repotted.

Her expression did not shift, not even as the silence intumesced, clouding the bar and freezing the doors. Questions, so many questions, he didn't know where to start. There was none of the warmness they had once had, and any conflict she may have possessed within herself for him was apparently buried deep.

"We need to talk."


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Memories of that day a week or so ago (has it really been that long?) clung to him like smoke to clothing, stubborn in their scent. Perhaps it was a bad analogy, for he'd grown fond of human cigarettes during his time on earth, they had become familiar, whereas she... she had been familiar too, once. But now-

Yeong sighed before raising his shot to his lips, throwing back the grey liquid. His lips parted as icy breath escaped them and the slightest frost webbed across them before melting in the warmth- all side effects of the aptly named 'frost shots' that were a popular, contemporary beverage among fae. Winter fae especially, to no one's surprise, and, exile aside, Yeong was no different. The frost was as invigorating as it always was; certainly better than any beverage humans had managed to concoct in their decidedly alcoholic history, although that was saying little. The contrast was almost painful to acknowledge, releasing him from what was steadily becoming a desensitisation to the alcohol of the human world, reminding him deftly of what he was missing.

Not that he never drank fae alcohol; he had an arrangement with a trio of smugglers who kept his bar comfortably stocked for the many non-human customers who often roamed into Gunbae! Bar. But he resisted for business' sake, and because fae alcohol didn't deliver headaches in quite the same way the human stuff did. For anyone else, this would have been further incentive, but for Yeong... well, he was a touch masochistic in his appreciation of a little ache here and there- something to keep the memories occupied.

He stood on the edge of the fray, watching with a bored curiosity the white-haired fae knelt at the circle's centre. Last year's opening of Pandora's Box had been decidedly unsuccessful, but the free folk seemed far more optimistic about this year. Perhaps it was because of her. Not perhaps, actually. It was undoubtedly because of her. Every movement she made was fluid, quick and professional amidst a sea of wild, frenzied and disorganised.

As smoky warriors began to rise from the box, dancing across the sky, Yeong joined the fae around in him in their fascination. He watched the crimson creatures, reaching up to touch a passing soldier, only for it to warningly swing its its poleax at his outstretched hand, and rise up, out of his reach.

Just as humour finally touched his features, the first scream broke out, and the scene around him descended into chaos.

"Give us the Halflings, and we might consider granting you exiles and traitors a merciful death." He should have been frightened, but Yeong had long-since found that fear did not come to him easily. In its place, spite, aggression, and a too-dark sense of humour. Hence the way, after a moment of reading the situation, he scoffed instead of screamed. A 'merciful' death. Our troops are ever noble.

He thought it with sarcasm, not stopping to acknowledge his own lack of a noble nature as he plunged into the greenery with no intention of staying behind to fight. Not feeling fear, it seems, is not the same as not yet desiring death. 'Yet'. He had a purpose, now, after all. His sister had set him a goal. He'd failed her too many times already to die before completing it.

Dodging a stray spear, he weaved through the forest, cutting away from the crowd but following the same direction. The direction of the gateway to his world, the human world, was too familiar to need a guiding light.

The child caught him off guard, however. The little blue thing tumbled through the thicket towards him, yelping in pain as she rolled over roots and stone. Looking up to where the girl had come from, Yeong saw her again, the one who had opened Pandora's Box, now at the mercy of dozens of ebony arrows launched in her direction.

Gritting his teeth in an expression of exasperated frustration, an intense gust of wind cut through the foliage, bending the trees and sending the arrows twirling off course. In a swift movement, he had grabbed the child by her wrist and swung her onto his back. She wrapped her little arms around his neck almost knowingly, holding tight as he ran towards the ivory-haired fae.

"Come on."

cron