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 i will send a storm, tag: cal/allie
audra holly pace
 Posted on: Oct 12 2016, 04:43 PM
winter sprite
❝ Don't be scared of avalanches tucked up in my snowy branches, I will, oh I will keep you safe. ❞
fantasia 2000
24
5' 5"
pansexual
uninterested
38

amanda



tag: calix emrys brenhin
notes: let us begin

Her brown eyes watched the clock, face illuminated by the glow of the digital screen in front of her. Audra Pace stood alone in the darkened public park, and did not make a sound. The young woman had arrived ten minutes before, and hadn't moved since, as if she had become a fixture along the paved pathway. She might have been rooted to the spot, a sturdy little tree that barely shifted in the light breeze. She was waiting, fixated on a certain spot in the middle of the bridge, down the path that crossed the river. Every minute or so she would check again, knowing that only a moment had passed since the last time. The seconds slowly ticked by until the time read 11:01, and she finally left her spot in the shadows. Her footsteps on the pavement echoed a short distance, and finally stopped when she reached the place she'd been eyeing.

To the innocent passerby, it was merely a public works project: a pretty little stone bridge to provide a walkway to admire the waterway below. To Audra, and many denizens of San Francisco, it was the difference between life and death. Her story was not unlike many others who found themselves thrust into this strange world. She had lost everything and she'd been on the run, searching for a bit of respite. And just when she'd needed a lifeline, it appeared to her. The portal was different on the other side, just Audra was as well. She would not be the fair skinned, dark haired woman that she passed as most days. She would not be the young poet who lived in a tiny apartment with her best friend and spent her time sheltered from the heat of the city. Instead she would be her true self.

It was her vulnerability in this world that kept Audra from living as the other citizens did, or even like the other residents of Haven Hill. She could not spend sunny afternoons at the park, or enjoy a summer's at the beach on the bay. Even the simplest of tasks became difficult when she had to leave the house to do it. Preparation was a necessity, and a good friend to be by her side was a must. Iorek was there when she needed assistance, and she was grateful for that. But at times it did strike a chord in her - a particularly prideful chord that remembered a time when she didn't need to be treated with such caution. Still she wasn't a fool and would not let her pride cause her to weaken to an even more unstable state. This was why, as she stood in the middle of the quiet park nearing midnight, she had come to the portal. If she was careful in her planning, she would not need her companion's - or anyone's - help, not where she was going. And without another thought, she stepped through.

An inky black sky set the backdrop to expansive grey clouds, shadowing the lakefront from the moonlight shining down from above. The Sprite, now no more than a few feet tall, took cautious steps along the water's edge. Beneath her feet, tiny particles of ice formed, the most delicate trail of frost marking her tracks where footprints ought to be. The winds howled all around her, speaking to her like a language only she could understand. They greeted her like an old friend and enveloped her in something akin to a tender embrace. As breezy as the city could get, it was nothing compared to the gusts of wind that rolled down the mountainside and chilled the secluded lake that stood before her.

The Sprite made her way further away from the portal, following a path she had taken before. Through the dense forest and up the slope of the rocky ridge, she would find herself high on the mountain's cliffs soon enough. Her steps began as tiny strides and soon grew to wide bounds, as she stretched her limbs and and shook off the restraints of her human body. The Sprite didn't walk so much as she glided, and once she reached a quicker pace, her feet hardly touched the ground until she needed to propel herself forward once more. In between the trees she weaved, and as she went, snow covered every surface she touched. She was mindful enough not to leave a trail that could have put her in danger; the ice was not so dense it wouldn't melt by the time someone else came her way.

She had reached the steeper slopes that would turn into crags in the distance, and kept her pace with only a bit more effort. The friendly gales that met her at the portal were replaced with blustering winds of the harsher landscape. The ground below was rough and hard - no longer the coarse soil that held the mountain's forest roots in place - but it gave way to patches of snow and slick ice. The Sprite continued on with just as much grace as she had when she bobbed in and out of the trees. The increase in wind speed and the decrease in temperature hardly phased her, as this was her element and closer to her home than she had been in months. She could have sat contently on the mountainside, enjoying the snowfall that seemed to thicken with every passing minute. However she could not stop just yet.

The storm would continue to howl around her; the night was far from over and she had hours to go before the portal would reappear at the lake. The weather was not what she feared, but what lurked within it. Just because the snow was pure white did not mean it was entirely innocent. She had already had one life-threatening experience with the terror that Darkness could evoke, and she did not wish to revisit that moment. She had no intention to battle with the forces of evil that contested the order of nature. Not now - not when she had finally come to find some sort of comfort in the snowstorm that wrapped her in a familiar chill.

The Sprite hadn't gotten much further from the woods when she felt just what she had been dreading. A presence lurked behind her, and it was not one she had felt before. She could tell this was not her polar bear companion, nor her seasonal sisters. No, this was a strange and completely foreign sensation to the Sprite. Apprehension twisted in the pit of her stomach and the alarm rose like the pounding of a heartbeat. Hair like banks of heavy snow whipped around as she turned, quick as a hare, toward the presence. The icicles that framed her face and neck made a familiar tinkling sound as they collided with one another. She lifted a flowing arm toward her face, and waved away some stray flurries from her sight, not knowing what she might find.


^
calix emrys brenhin
 Posted on: Dec 21 2016, 08:06 PM
the raven king
❝ you better stay clever if you wanna survive. ❞
the court of night
too many
6'4
alotsexual
#SOLO
92

allie














listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness




The shallow crevice hidden high up in the crags of a mountain, while inhospitable and nigh impossible to reach by most, was not the most unlikely place to find the lord of the night court. Calix didn't know what had drawn him to it, having spotted it mid-flight around the summit. The faerie hadn't even realized he had changed his direction until he was landing, great black wings flapping against the wind that whistled against the ancient rocks. While spacious enough to accommodate his raven form, it was hardly suitable for him in full body. He had shifted anyway, balancing on the precipice of the sharp edged that jutted out between the rock before settling into a sitting position, back pressed into the narrow space where the crags met. The height of the crevice's walls shielding against the harshness of the wind even as his long legs dangled over the edge above an impossible drop. The height might have been dizzying for any other not so confident as he. Even should he tumble over, against the odds as the idea was, he could easily shift and take flight before he ever reached the ground. He had ceased being afraid of such possibilities long ago and now the incredible height bothered not at all.

Snug as he was, there were mere inches left to shift his weight from one position to another and Calix found himself leaning heavily against one side, one side of his own face pressed into the rough surface of the mountain's. The stone was frigid against the skin of his exposed cheek; the roughness of it was comforting even as it was unyielding. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the murmur of the mountain's heart. He could almost pretend it was his own even as the hands he pressed into the stone as if he could mold it to his will, reaching out for the power that had lived deep within his mountain, proved indubitably that was nothing more than a pile of old rocks. Calix sighed, bone-deep weariness dragging down shoulders that were usually held straight with such proud rigidity. His head lolled back against the stone, too fatigued to do much else, as he refused to call out the heavy weight in his chest for what it was: sadness. Such insanity was reserved for the sentimental and, even high above the earth with no one to see, he would not give into the emotion wholly.

It was the last bit of territory he would not yield to the darkness when that faceless evil had conquered everything else, continued to consume that which did not belong to it, it would not get his acceptance. The muscle in his jaw clenched, fingers curling into fists, rock cutting into the flesh that covered his knuckles as he pressed them further into the uncompromising rock around him. He would get his mountain back, if he had rebuild it stone by stone, pebble by pebble. He would do it if he had to hunt down the source of the darkness by himself and rip out its heart with his own hands. He would do it and he would not stop until it was done. Fine words, whispered the voice of doubt. Pretty, empty promises. The truth in the voice made his teeth clench as he raised one fist and brought it down hard against the stone beside him. The sickening sound of bone cracking as his knuckles met the unmitigated solidity of rock. Breathing heavy, he stared at the swelling bruise beneath the cracked and bloodied skin of his hand as the freshly renewed magic in his blood began the arduous process of knitting together flesh and bone.

If he sat here long enough, the wound would likely close itself as he watched. A shift in the wind rising around him drew his gaze to the night heavy skies bringing with it the scent of snow and a coming storm. Arrogant as he could he about his own abilities, he was not infallible. His raven form was as susceptible to changes in the drafts as any other bird and, if he chose to wait it out, he could be stuck for hours in the cold, unfavorable weather. It was time to go. Calix used his feet to propel him of the edge of the outcropping of rock, his arms out straight as he dropped into a free fall. He did not immediately shift, letting the exhilaration of the fall fill him up for a moment before he allowed the magic to take over. The feeling of changing from one form to the next was always the same -- a million sensations happening in the briefest of moments. Muscle and sinew and bone shrinking and warping and shaping themselves to whatever animal image he held in his mind. His arms became wings that caught the updraft with frightening speed, propelling him in a wide arc over the tree tops and back into the air.

Wings pumped against the harsh wind, suddenly bitter with cold, as he tried to change course. In the seconds that had passed since he had dropped from the crevice high on the mountain, snow had begun to fall in heavy sheets around him. He could neither see nor sense which direction he had come in, which direction would lead him back to the portal. He circled above a large lake, attempting to regain his bearings but it was no use. The wind and cold forced him to land unceremoniously on the banks of the lake ringed with trees. It was then that he scented the power behind the storm, gold eyes instantly sharp as they peered against the curtain of snow. He'd shifted back to his fae form as he landed, instantly regretting the choice. He ought to have shifted to a wolf or some other animal equally as capable of handling the chill. Now, he would have to wait before he could shift again as the power gathered itself if he wanted to reserve his strength to battle any enemy the darkness spit out at him.

Calix raised his face to the wind, taking in as much of the scent as he could. It was familiar, though it took him a moment to understand why. He had felt such power before and recently. Yet, the scent was different, subtle as it was. Where the other had smelled of heat and lightening storms, this scent held the astringent sting of ice that was gentled by the powder-softness of snow. The undercurrent of ancient power, however, remained the same. As before, Cal was drawn by it even as he was wary, lest he meet another creature as tempestuous as the other sprite had been. He followed it through the flurries, trudging through the trees, so concentrated on the power that called to his blood that he felt her closeness before he saw her. She must have sensed him as well, turning toward him at nearly the exact moment his eyes found her through the falling snow. He had little doubt, then, that this being of ice was as much responsible for the blizzard blowing across the forest around them as the other had been for the rainstorm.

Compelled now as much by his own amusement as he was the power, he moved closer until she was clear as the snow would allow for. He studied her for a moment, eyes swirling silver and gold paused on the icicles that framed her face before he dropped them. "So you're the trouble maker who caused the blizzard," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. With his uninjured hand, he shook the snowflakes from his ebony hair. "Tell me, do you sprites always go around wreaking atmospheric havoc everywhere you go or am I just special?" A dark brow arched as he lifted his eyes once again to meet hers.

audra holly pace

--------------------
AVATAR GRAPHIC © SAM!
^
audra holly pace
 Posted on: Dec 27 2016, 12:10 AM
winter sprite
❝ Don't be scared of avalanches tucked up in my snowy branches, I will, oh I will keep you safe. ❞
fantasia 2000
24
5' 5"
pansexual
uninterested
38

amanda



tag: calix emrys brenhin
notes: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It seemed as if the heavy flakes around her face moved in slow motion as she waved a hand to clear them from her view. Her alarm was not unwarranted in this forsaken place, but as much as she could, the Sprite remained composed. Panic was unnecessary until she knew what might be behind her, or whether it might be friend or foe. In the worst possible outcome, it would be one of the creatures that terrorized the animated realm. However, she knew them to be more savage, less… stealthy. She would have noticed if something had been trailing her for so long, particularly if it had been moving fast enough to battle the oncoming snow and catch up to her here. She did not doubt it was something worth being wary of as she turned around to get a better look.

Of all things to meet on the icy mountain side, it was a man. Where she was expecting some beast to be lurking, it was a tall, dark figure instead. Black of hair and aura alike, with eyes unlike any she’d seen before. There was something in his presence - she same that alerted her of his unfamiliarity - that told her he was no human man. What exactly he was, however, was not so clear. It was plain he was not of her world, but he was of this realm: the animated world that held so many realities in one sprawling, expansive existence. Yet this meant he could be of any infinite number of species and races that populated said worlds. What was he, this person who appeared in an instant and left no footprints in the snow? The Sprite’s concern was not so much in who he was, but instead how he had managed to come so close without warning. She intended to find out.

There was caution in her tone as she addressed the stranger. The storm raged on around them, but air within their immediate space howled a little softer, the absolute slightest detectable change in the force of the wind. Despite the constant threat of danger, she was happy to have the better range of her abilities ready at hand on this side of the portal. The Winter Sprite’s was a power of extremes and of subtleties: even if she could not reach her full potential until wintertime, she was far from some poor white hare stuck in the middle of a blizzard. Even at this time she could have easily buried him in a pile of snow if the need arose, but until it did, she would remain calm. Cool was her default setting, and though she had been taken by surprise, her exterior would be as cold as she could allow. All the same, the chill in her spine told her she should not rest too easy around this one.

He spoke with no fear in his voice but quite the opposite. The confident, almost amused tone underlying his words did little to calm her - but she supposed if he had come to kill her, he wouldn’t waste his time in chatting. She listened with her usual quiet regard, unflinching as he branded her the one responsible for the storm and unprovoked as he blamed her for tthe bitter winds that whipped past. There was one thing, however, she felt a need to set straight.

“Havoc?” It was true winter's storms could be known for their unpredictability and strength, as could the Sprite that created them. What force of nature would she be if she did not inspire a bit of awe? Yet this - this was hardly a snow flurry. "I do no such thing.” The mountain was primed for snow anyway: the clouds had gathered long before she’d arrived and the storm would rage whether she had a hand in it or not. It was stronger than the heavy snowfall due, as she had taken the opportunity to stretch her legs and her strength along with them. However, this was no tempest she couldn’t handle and she intended to extinguish whatever impression told him otherwise. The sprite was neither to blame nor out of control of this situation.

As unbothered as she intended to display herself, there was one word the stranger uttered that gave he pause. Referring to her the same as Iorek did - not “Audra” but “Sprite,” even if it was a descriptor rather than a proper name - she hated to admit it surprised her. It was the closest phrase one could find in the English language to categorize her and her seasonal sisters. They were no deities but no mortals either, they were no servants of the earth but they did have a duty of sorts to the balance of nature. Sprite seemed the most befitting and it was a fond term until it came from the mouth of one particularly presumptuous man. The more she pondered the implication of his surprisingly accurate label, the deeper a seed of annoyance was buried in her attitude. It was that planting that colored her next comment. “You speak as if you know,” she began, purposely implying that he did not, in fact, understand a thing. There were few who did, particularly not after a single glance. There was much about her being and her ways that was not to be taken so lightly like his bold (if not toying) suggestion that she came all this way to cause him a bit of trouble.

She did not wish to join him in his clever words and sly teases, nor did she trust he was entirely full of games. She would not answer his foolish questions, and met them with some of her own instead, an icy undertone below her cool surface. She might furrow her brow in some sort of curious expression, but otherwise she did not betray the suspicion - or perhaps the confusion - that his words inspired. “Have you come such a long way from safety just to seek a storm to get lost in?” She asked, dancing around the point that no ordinary human could make it through a blizzard such as this without some threat on their life. The Sprite might not have been able to tell what sort of being he was, but no creature without some strength to them could have survived this far. “I see little other reason to find another soul in a place like this." In the entirety of their brief exchange, she had not moved other than to clear the snow from her sight. Her figure billowed with the wind, unfazed by the unrelenting precipitation, though her feet were rooted to the spot. It was rare that she be still so long but she would not give this mysterious man the benefit of an approach.



^
calix emrys brenhin
 Posted on: Mar 7 2017, 12:45 AM
the raven king
❝ you better stay clever if you wanna survive. ❞
the court of night
too many
6'4
alotsexual
#SOLO
92

allie














listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness




Fate was a curious thing. Calix couldn't say he held much stock with such things as fate; it was too nebulous a concept, too ridden with variables and coincidence to really interest him much. It was the subject of poets and priestesses. The linchpin of weak-minded fools unable to accept that there was no reasoning to the universe, no grand plan they had a part to play in. Before the darkness, it had been a matter of course to disregard any conversation that began with some predetermination of an outcome directly out of hand. He had never allowed his decisions, any of them, to be swayed by the notion that his course had been set for him, that an impending failure or an accomplishment were anything other than the result of his own doing. Priding himself on his ability to think through a situation from every possible angle and study it for every possible outcome before taking action, it was impossible for him to subscribe to such a notion as destiny. It had been a favorite word of his mother's and far overused by those she kept company with. The near-incessant droning on about fortunes and stars and fates had driven him mad as child whose mind was far more preoccupied with puzzles and tangible things. Truly, it was no wonder he had found a sanctuary among the stacks of Daghda's great library.

There were other concepts, too, of course that he had found difficult to grasp. Abstract ideas and the metaphysical had only ever delivered frustration and confusion where it brought comfort to others. He'd long since dissected and discarded most of them as having alternate, more logical explanations. Fate, the Lord of Night had found, was often simply a matter of a person accepting a set of circumstances as out of their control. The very idea left a sour taste in his mouth; he never could accept a thing as simply being so without an explanation as to why. It was what consumed him so about the darkness and it was what drew him now. His innate curiosity ticked its ears toward the tug of power not his own. No, he’d never believed very much in fate and, yet, coincidence seemed a trivialization of this particular occurrence. The creature -- not creature, he reprimanded silently, he had learned his lesson well the last time he had come across a similar being. A sprite. Not once, but twice now he had come across one of them. Nothing of their ilk had existed in his world, not of a similar strength at least, and nothing so visceral.

Moreover, he knew nothing of these beings or what they could do. His assertions were speculative at best but her (a pronoun he assigned intuitively; words like ‘being’ and ‘creature’ becoming stale) reaction seemed, to him, to confirm them. ”Perhaps ‘havoc’ was a little strong,” he conceded, gold eyes flashing. A corner of his mouth turned up at her tone, the words as imperious as her expression. Amusing in its mein, as similar to the other sprite’s as the two were different. This being of ice and cold was not as reactionary; there was no answering thunder or recriminations at his words. Still, he sensed her dislike of him despite her display of unaffected placidity. Calix hazarded a step closer, ignoring the snowflakes gathering in the feather-fine black of his fringe once again. His eyes remained trained on the sprite as he tilted his head, unable to help the curl of his lips as they twisted with ill-concealed amusement. ”Call it confidence,” he shrugged, eyes dancing with arrogance he made no effort hide either. ”I know a great many things though not nearly so much about you as I might like.”

He took another slow step and then another, feet nearly soundless in the freshly fallen snow, as moved in a wide arc. Never letting his eyes drop, he watched her through the curtain of white. Unlike with the other one, he was not so limited by his surroundings. The power was gathering again in his blood, frustratingly slowly but enough -- more, even, than he would have required to defend himself. He released a little of it, creating something of a shield above his head to divert the snow. It still dusted his shoulders but it no longer felt as if icy fingers were clawing at his face and hair. Cal felt the ice in her voice as she probed, suspicion maybe, but not open hostility. Perhaps, she was as curious about him as he was about her? Were they wary animals, then, sniffing each other out? He smirked at the mental image, oversimplifying as it was. ”Don’t we all like to get lost from time to time?” He answered her questions with a question.

Stopping, he spread his arms, the gold in his eyes flashing. ”Am I unsafe here, then? Is this the worst you have to offer?” It was a reckless goad but something about her frigid calm made him to hold a flame to it. Smirking, he noted how she held her ground. As if in response, his own feet sank a little deeper in the snow. The cold pricked at his skin, like thousands of tiny needles scraping irritably across it but Calix did not mind it. It made him sharper, more aware even as the snowfall never eased. ”Come now, don’t be shy!” he called jovially over the wind. ”You came out to play, didn’t you? Don’t stop on my account.”

audra holly pace

--------------------
AVATAR GRAPHIC © SAM!
^
audra holly pace
 Posted on: May 9 2017, 12:42 AM
winter sprite
❝ Don't be scared of avalanches tucked up in my snowy branches, I will, oh I will keep you safe. ❞
fantasia 2000
24
5' 5"
pansexual
uninterested
38

amanda



tag: calix emrys brenhin
notes: welp

Even when nearly certain that this man was not a creature belonging to darkness (the Sprite still could not be entirely sure) she blamed the recent developments of this world for her hesitation. While she had limited experience with others in her previous life, they were always from afar, never met head on. She might find a poor soul lost in a storm such as this, and she might soften the winds to allow them to find their way home. Other times she might peek in at the cozy little scenes that played like clockwork for the winter holidays. Hers was a duty to be felt and not seen; she would not allow interference in her seasonal schedule, and so her interaction with anyone other than the forest animals was limited. The Sprite wasn't entirely sure if she could speak the human language if it weren't for being forced into San Fransico and her other form. Words hadn't come easy to her here or there. She was still calculated and cautious in either world, and she would not utter something so carelessly as so many did. And so she took her time in each response, not in any rush to avoid the blizzard that she had a hand in creating herself.

It was entirely possible that, if faced with this dark man just two years prior, she would have skirted around snowbanks and snuck back into the shelter of the forest below before he had a chance to take a second look. She would be something of a myth, a mirage in the snowstorm, a story to be told and disbelieved. It was safer that way - or, it had been when humans were involved. But this was no human man and his origin was still a puzzle unsolved. So when presented with the mystery that laid underneath his surface, she was not so bold as she was moments before he felt his presence. Was she afraid? No, that wasn't quite right. Particularly not now, when she knew of the great force that was capable of destroying worlds. His aura she sensed was no all-consuming evil, that much she could tell. Yet with such limited exposure to beings of all these foreign worlds, that was about as far as she could guess without more information. That meant she must garner said information in other ways… carefully crafting questions without letting her guard down.

This passing stranger had a quicker tongue than she, and while the Winter Sprite was at least satisfied with his correction, she couldn’t let it be known. His smug sort of self-gratification and the smirk on his face would only be justified. His expression became all more apparent as he neared her, his molten eyes coming more into focus between the flurries. He hadn’t chanced more than a foot or two in her direction as he moved, taking the first steps where she did not. Which told her that underneath the ‘confidence’ as he deemed it, he might not be so brash as he seemed in his smiles and easy words. This, paired with his words, made her think for a moment he was being truthful. Not in that tone that danced around something else - empty flattery perhaps - but in that he admitted to not know much about her. So it seemed neither of them were sure of the other, showing only what they wished and and responding in riddled statements to keep the other guessing.

“So you appeared from nowhere to question me?” she asked as he made his way around her. They had both done a fine job in evading each other’s dull barbs, neither giving a single straight answer in the few minutes that had passed. Regarding him with eyes keen as an arctic fox, she was surprised to see the break in snow where her flurries once flew uninterrupted. If anything, this hinted at his ability to make his way through the storm so quickly; an ordinary man might not have been able to make it through without harm, but a man with some sort of power, that was another matter entirely. It could have been such power, instead of his being, that alerted her to his approach. Yet again, this was not something she could be sure of by just looking at the man. “I have a feeling you’re not lost at all, stranger,” she returned as he stopped in his tracks, rhetorical though his question might be. She knew where she was, at least in relation to the portal that was a few hours shut at this time. She’d be foolish to believe this person had come all this way, found her in this storm, and not have a way out - particularly now, as she gained precious few insights into what laid below the silver tongue and golden eyes.

Loathe as she would to admit it, his manner did irk her. Her interest betrayed her, tugging at her curious nature and stubbornness all at once. The way he diverted the snow she’d made dance in the sky, the way he howled into the wind she’d breathed into the biting air. The way he laid his queries like traps, and so casually as he did. She did not bother to answer these, not knowing what he’d gain from them next. She would admit to neither threatening him nor ensuring his safety - either could prove a grave mistake. While it was true she would not strike this man without cause, the less they knew, the more dangerous they were to each other. She did not know his true nature or the strength of his magic - or if she could even call it that. What his aim here was, what he wanted from her, all this remained a mystery - as well as how he knew to call her ‘sprite.’ She wasn’t getting anywhere like this. She needed a change in tactic, but she didn’t have the time to waste; that taunting smirk was waiting.

”You mean to provoke me, then. That’s your goal?” she called out, finally taking a step forward and planting herself in the snow below. She might have given away a hint of her annoyance, but ’play’ was not something that the Winter Sprite nor the human girl in her did very often. Showing off was not something that she did, either, and certainly not at the request of every passing stranger. Her purpose was more to gather her bearings, regain control, and feel at home amongst the cold. Being in her own element (closest to home as she could these days) allowed her more power, and with it more confidence. If he wanted to see her strength, she would show him her restraint instead. Calming a storm spoke more volume than starting one; this was a lesson she knew too well.

With a small circular gesture of her fingers, the snow's trajectory quickly shifted. Instead of forcing a stronger wind, she formed a pocket of relative stillness between the two, swirling the heavy snowflakes around them instead. As easily as he had produced some sort of charm to protect his face from the elements, she could have stopped the wind and snow altogether. Merely a small sample of the range of her ability, the Sprite was careful not to exert herself too much, lest her actions reveal more than intended. She paused as the powdered surface underfoot settled, and her hand slowly returned to her side. Brown eyes glanced over his full figure once again, seeing more detail in his features and a battered hand where she did not before. This did little to help her situation; more questions cropped up before the rest had been solved. She exhaled slowly and the vapor of her breath rose from her lips, returning to the state of collected cool she had been previously. The Sprite did not wish to play games, but there was more she wanted to know. Something told her their conversation was far from over, and it wouldn’t do to keep shouting over the wind.

One thing, at least, she would ask without hiding behind her mask of wind and snow: “What do they call you?”


^
calix emrys brenhin
 Posted on: May 10 2017, 12:31 AM
the raven king
❝ you better stay clever if you wanna survive. ❞
the court of night
too many
6'4
alotsexual
#SOLO
92

allie














listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness




Calix visited the Winter Court once, long ago, when he was still a child; he could not remember the hows or whys of it, just the steep, craggy mountain range with the towers of white marble rising high into the clouds above like an aerie made of ice. And the snow. Everything had been covered in the stuff. So much so that even when it wasn’t snowing, the wind picked up the loose powder in great spirals and whipped it from place to place. The winterlands were so close to the Night Court that when a wind blew in from the northern border that, forever after that singular trip, he would swear the cold laced through it came straight from that strange place made of ice and snow. The winter fae themselves seemed to have been born from the ice, with their white hair and skin so pale as to be translucent. Even the animals seemed bred to match the landscape -- all white feathers and fur. He and the other night fae had been a stark contrast in the pale landscape.

Just coming into his ability at the time, he had tried to mimic the color, or lack thereof, to no avail. Each time the black would bleed through to mar the picture. Almost like smudges at the edges of feathers or a streak across fur, he never could quite manage the purity of the color. In his naivete, he had spoken to his mother of it. Twas the shadows, she had said, the darkness in him showing itself. Though he could change his shape, his nature would always warp it, deform it in some way until it more resembled the true creature. Beasts and serpents of the variety that fueled nightmares were his affinity. Never the speckled goshawks or the white-furred foxes or great horned caribou that lived in the snow. He was bred to the creatures of the night as much as those animals were to live in such an arctic environment. No easier could he live among them in the snow than they could survive in the forested nightlands. Blood will always out, she had said, no matter how one masked it. Perhaps that was true for he had never tested it upon hearing the words.

Standing where he was, slowly sinking further into the drift, with the cold harsh against his skin, it was a similar sensation that he felt. Everything about him was a dark mark in the snow, like a bruise on the otherwise flawless, snow-covered land. Calix held out a hand curiously, lifting the shield of magic he had put around himself a little to catch the white flakes in his palm. Against skin that had already turned cold, the snow did not immediately melt. The flakes gathered there in the shallow well made by his fingers, catching together like a slowly forming mountain. Silver seeped into the edges of his irises as he watched the snow fall a moment more before tipping his hand over to let it all crumble away like so much sand. The gold took over again as he turned his eyes back on the being in front of him, arching an eyebrow out her. He’d ignored her words before, preferring not to answer than to unintentionally lead a conversation as to what he had been doing before her storm had grounded him. How easy it was to slip back into that place of darkness in his mind that had little to do with the destructive force that had stolen his home from him.

Already, he could feel his thoughts tumbling into that place. Too close to that edge of shutting off his emotions if only to think clearly and, for once, he wasn’t sure he wanted that; didn’t want to be the Lord of the Night Court, as cold and hard as the pile of stone he used to rule. The shadows, however, were seductive. They called to him, urged him towards that dark, cold place of unfeeling and quiet. In that place, there was no conscience, no memories. No compass in which to gauge his actions and what path to take. Only impulse, only selfish need to hold on to the shadows, to cling to the darkness like an addict trying to keep the edge off. And, really, wasn’t that an apt description for susceptible he was the lure of forgetting everything. How often in his darkest moments had he contemplated just that, how very easy it could be to let go of the regret and self-condemnation, the grief and the anger, and the memories that haunted him like his own personal ghosts? It was dangerous, that alluring power of forgetting that was as easy as giving up. Except giving up was not so easy when it came down to it, he’d found early on. Not when it meant giving up his power, giving up that magic that was as much a part of his blood as the night and the stars were. Yes, indeed, blood will out.

Too intrigued was he by this creature, the sprite, to let himself be romanced by the darkness that laced the veins beneath his skin like so much poison. ”Provoke? No,” he gave a slight shake of his head, before raising a shoulder in a sort of half shrug. ”Watch, perhaps, observe. It is magnificent.” The compliment was ceded almost grudgingly as he took in the display of ability around him. For that’s what it was, not natural phenomenon insofar as he could tell but a show of power or perhaps a release? The latter was a feeling he could well understand and the silver returned to his eyes in a whorl that rivaled the gold and this time it did not recede as they turned back on the sprite, watching her move forward much in the way that he had -- a confident step forward but little ground ceded should a battle ensue. He almost smiled, almost assured her he had no intention of attempting to harm or steal from her. That, however, would be too much conceded. Wariness was as much a shield as it was a natural instinct; it caused one to be cautious but that same caution in others kept them from getting too close, both literally and figuratively.

The honesty of his earlier statement remained genuine, if unintentional. It was a crack in his mask that only spiderwebbed when the sprite created the quiet eddy of empty air around them. His mouth parted slightly as he took it in, dropping the magic he had put up around himself as he did so. Outside the calm, the storm continued on around it, unbothered by the pocket of air that kept it out. He was aware that his expression betrayed the impression the trick had made on him and his pride prickled, wanting to respond. He let it. Smiling crookedly at her question, he gathered his remaining magic from it’s very edges and turned it in on himself. One heartbeat, he stood before her in his true form and with the next, in a flurry of feathers, he took flight. Not the snowy goshawk from his childhood fancies, but a raven with down as black as pitch. Up and up he flew, beating his wings against the pull of gravity. His laughter escaped in one great caw as he circled above her head, once, twice, and then into a dive. As he neared the ground, he once again loosed his grip on his power and landed before her once again as he was.

In that demonstration, he had crossed the ground that lay between them until only a sparse few feet were left. The smile that curved his lips now was cocky, confidence exhilarated by the flaunting of his magic. ”The question you ask does not have a single answer,” he said, breathing heavy from the physical exertion of flight. His breath created a cloud of steam that rose around him, reminding him that, unlike her, he was not a creature of ice. ”What they call me is subjective and too often cares little for my opinion on the matter. You may call me what you wish for I, also, care little. I shall give you my name, if you wish,” a mischievous glint entered his eyes. ”But only in exchange for yours.”

audra holly pace


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AVATAR GRAPHIC © SAM!
^
audra holly pace
 Posted on: Jun 7 2017, 12:29 PM
winter sprite
❝ Don't be scared of avalanches tucked up in my snowy branches, I will, oh I will keep you safe. ❞
fantasia 2000
24
5' 5"
pansexual
uninterested
38

amanda



tag: calix emrys brenhin
notes: lmk if this isn't enough to work with!

It was little strain on the Sprite to keep the shelter of stillness that surrounded her and the stranger. With a simple wave of her hand she'd created it, and with sheer will, it remained. Such was a quiet demonstration of her influence over the flurries that danced - seemingly without rhyme or reason - through the biting air on the mountainside. There was no spell or incantation that allowed her to do such a thing. No, hers was a power inseparable from her being and tied to her very existence. So much so, that once the Sprite found herself in human form, she'd found her character developed straight from her power, as if she and it were one and the same.

Like the winds of winter, she could be bitter, but like the frost of chilly mornings, she could be gentle as well. Such was the way she formed their cover from the storm, as an extension of herself. Perhaps if the stranger paid close enough attention, he might be able to see her in both the blizzard that raged on, as well as the quiet stillness that enveloped them. If she were quicker to temper, they might be buried in the snow once more at the slightest insult. But being a stubborn creature had its advantages... The Sprite's resolve was not something to be trifled with, and it was plain in her control, even without her full strength.

Yet this was something her strange new acquaintance did not and could not know. The Sprite took stock of all that she wished to keep away from the prying eyes of this dark stranger. He'd already identified - or perhaps guessed - something of her kind and her power. No doubt he could guess she'd come from somewhere nearby or otherwise, he might be able to locate the portal arch she'd come through. Other than her appearance - clearer to him now than before - and her voice, what more had she given away? Precious little, or so she planned. It would prove necessary to consider, once she'd stopped deflecting and started asking the questions herself. To dance around the subject was one thing; providing non-answers to a mysterious figure in the snow was really a given. Yet now that she new this person would give himself away as easily as she would, she needed to be patient in calculating her approach.

In all their exchange, she had not thanked him for his last comment. Instead, she'd simply released a steady exhale along with one mildly upturned eyebrow. His words told her it was a compliment, but her distrust of him told her otherwise. The Sprite would not play like a fool into his good graces - particularly not when the look in his eye was so changeable and unpredictable. A man who might look a threat one moment and seem in genuine awe the next was not one to be taken so lightly. While it did earn her attention (and reluctant curiosity), it did not earn her trust. Particularly when it was not only his expression that seemed so fickle, but his manner as well. For almost as soon as she'd calmed the air around them, the stranger had another trick up his sleeve. This time she was not so prepared when he gave his response to her display and her question.

The Sprite's breath caught in her throat as she witnessed him transform faster than she could blink. Her brown eyes followed his now-avian figure intently, taking a step back to watch the path he carved in the sky above. She did not have the proper words to brand him - shapeshifter, of a sort, or sorcerer perhaps? The one thing she was sure of was the fact she had never crossed a creature like him in all her years. Knowing better than to speak before she knew what to say, the Sprite admitted her surprise in her speechlessness. When the stranger landed once again in the snow, he was much closer than he previously had been. His ability to fly so quickly and transfigure himself so silently accounted for the fact that he'd been able to cut through the storm and appear without leaving tracks in the snow. A word crossed her mind, though she dared not utter it aloud: remarkable.

He was near enough now that she could see the detail in his face where she could not before. The eyes she'd previously thought to be golden yellow were instead multi-colored, a strange combination of metallic swirls. She was right to think that she'd never seen a pair like them, but the arrogant smile on his lips was the same she'd seen in his first few bold statements. With a subtle shift, the Sprite rooted herself once more, her pale blue figure nearly appearing to have sprouted from the snow herself. Where he might flap his wings and dance around her, she intended to show that she may be surprised but not scared by his actions (whether they were meant to be flashy or frightening, or both).

The silence - though not entirely purposeful on her part - was short lived after his flight. It seemed only then did he intend to validate her question with a response - even if it was another cryptic pseudo-riddle. Of course, she hadn't expected an answer to come so easily. Perhaps she was catching on to the sort of game he played, or perhaps any words failed to surprise her after his last stunt. Either way, it was the Sprite who dared a smile this time. Small and slight as it was, an ounce of satisfaction shown through and disappeared as quickly as it came. Yes, she could be cold to a fault and obstinate at times, but she was also proud - and once in a blue moon she might show it. The Sprite parted her icy blue lips to rise to the stranger's challenge.

"Like you, I have been called many things," she began. She would not have asked her question in such a way if she had not also faced a similar experience. Among the options she had, the Sprite pondered the best 'name' to give the stranger. As she'd never formally introduced herself to another being in this state, her response was not an automatic one. She supposed Winter would do, as the season was tied to her fate - or, she was tied to its fate instead. Yet to give her name as the bringer of Winter could prove dangerous. The Sprite reminded herself that she was not in the business of giving strange men more information than she intended. Whatever might give him an advantage, she refused to simply hand over. Yet at the same time, she refused to lie. In some form, she saw the appeal of the stranger's way with words; providing her with something to chew on but hardly anything to use against him. Albeit reluctantly, two could play at this game.

"None of them names, in the formal sense, so much as descriptors," she said. "Like the one you gave earlier." It was neither conformation nor denial of the way he'd pinned her for a sprite. That was yet another unanswered mystery, as she wondered just how and why he was able to pick that word from the many he could have used. She might have been called many things in many languages, across many mythologies, but this preferred label was not often one of them. She did not know if she should be pleased or concerned, and did not let on to either. As she spoke, she narrowed the space she held free from the storm. While the space between them closed, the Sprite had no intention of keeping such a wide berth for more of his tricks. It was a defensive move, quiet as it was, a reminder that she was the one keeping the precipitation from harassing him once more.

"My name is Audra," she said finally, when her work was done. "And yours?"


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calix emrys brenhin
 Posted on: Sep 1 2017, 08:31 PM
the raven king
❝ you better stay clever if you wanna survive. ❞
the court of night
too many
6'4
alotsexual
#SOLO
92

allie














listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness




Magic had its costs. A lesson he had been taught early. A caution even in the days when the source of his was seemingly bottomless. These days he had to take particular care of when and how he used the once limitless thing. Not difficult, one would presume, but power was a heady thing. It thrummed in his blood and danced across his skin in electric charges, invisible to all but the keenest of eyes. There was a lightness in his smile not dissimilar to a drunkard’s as he revelled in the feel of it. Even after so many centuries, he had yet to tire of the after effects of his magic. As a young fae it had made him reckless, heedless of all caution, just to forever revel in such a feeling. Always, like now, as it began to recede and the pleasure died away, a hapless sort of panic twisted, calling out for more if only to prolong the inevitable return to reality. Unlike those days of his youth, Calix was not so temerarious. Such an audacious display had cost him, though he showed no such weakness outwardly. The smugness of such an arrogant performance continued to play in the lines of his face with the sort of self-satisfaction often attributed to the most primal of beasts. And what was the use of his magic but a primal thing?

Born of the earth long before the time of humankind had come to mar and poison it, leaving their scars upon her face with no more care than one would have of an object bound for a trash heap. The Raven King might have hailed from a different world entirely from this one, though it was closer than San Francisco, but the source remained the same. It wasn’t his own and the deep sense of wrongness caused by the corruption of the dark force that had stolen his kept him from dipping further for power. There was already enough blackness bleeding through his soul without corrupting it further, he thought. Too many shadows of his own making to invite more in for a passing, ephemeral feeling. There were many pleasures he felt no compunction about partaking in at his whim but in this he held himself back, curling his inner self around the magic that remained so that it could grow again. No matter how he longed to take to the sky with wings of his own creation or weave starlight with his fingertips like frantic sparks at the end of a live wire. Gone were the days where he overflowed with it and well he knew it -- and the frustration that came with being so suddenly limited. His instinct towards self-preservation still remained intact and he was as curious of this strange, powerful being before him as he was wary.

Though his use of power had taken too much, the intention had been as much a sign of his own strength, a warning, as it was a revelry in the freedom of their respective natures. Even as he stood there, pleased with her albeit subtle reaction to his demonstration, he was aware that she held back. That the storm around them was only held at bay on her command. Prior to now, snow and ice had been but a part of nature he could merely observe -- as he observed it now, in her. As the other had been made of summer foliage and seemingly breathed thunderstorms to life, this one was her opposite with icicles where hair should be and a mantle of to match. Winter Incarnate sprung up from the snow-covered land. A queen to intimidate even the indomitable winter fae, he was sure, and he was utterly fascinated. An old intrigue for power more ancient than his own and decidedly more elemental in its nature. As it had with the one he had met before this one, his curiosity went far towards overriding any instinct to put distance between them, though it was a relic of his own childhood that made him inch forward. A preoccupation he had been chided for before but still refused to heed.

Mercurial eyes swirled as they lingered on her face, searching acutely for and marking every subtle change in her expression. The fractional curve of her mouth hinted at a smile, the tilt of lips so quick he would have missed had he not been searching for some sign that his little stunt had worked as it was supposed to, even to the smallest degree. The smile was like a reward and a mystery and far too fleeting to glean much from and doubtless she knew it. The intrigue made his mouth water, like a predator with its prey in sight, and his smile now turned to flashing teeth for all it dimpled his cheeks. She was a proud one, her stance said as much. The other had been, too. Though where one had been all hot flashes of temper placated with pretty sentiments, her moods as changeable as a cloud passing over the sun, this one was a stolid pillar appearing to all the world unaffected. A mask, he was almost certain. Cal rather thought he could strip her of it. Like the winter that adorned her, and the whisper of it in the swirling snow around them, he wondered, if beneath that stolid countenance, she was as fierce as her thunderous counterpart.

The challenge of provoking such a response from her was appealing, despite his claims to the contrary, but he was cautious. Part of him knew undoubtedly that if he pushed her too much, prodded to insistently, that he would regret it. This was not a hunt in which he was set to pursue his quarry but a trap to be laid with patience and precision. One thing he was certain of was that she was holding back and that compelled him most all. He felt more than he saw the circle of dry air close in around them. Far from taking it as the warning he was sure it was meant to be, he took it as an invitation. Brows lowered over eyes that had taken on a feral glint as the gold thoroughly swallowed the silver threaded through the irises and Calix took a step closer within what could decidedly be called her space. ”Audra,” he drawled out slowly, drawing out the syllables of the name she had given him and testing them on his tongue like something to be tasted. With a tilt of his head, he peered at her. He could have given her a name for himself, then, should have but he held back. Not yet. Instead, his voice dropped to a tone that was soothing, almost coaxing in its smoothness. ”Won’t you tell me what you are, Audra?”

audra holly pace | ah, there's the tricksy fae >.>


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AVATAR GRAPHIC © SAM!
^
audra holly pace
 Posted on: Sep 24 2017, 12:39 AM
winter sprite
❝ Don't be scared of avalanches tucked up in my snowy branches, I will, oh I will keep you safe. ❞
fantasia 2000
24
5' 5"
pansexual
uninterested
38

amanda



tag: calix emrys brenhin
notes: audra used evade! it's not very effective...

He'd come far too close for comfort. It was not the brisk mountain air that caused the chill to run down her spine, but his unexpected and unwanted nearness instead. Countless years she had passed bringing Winter to the earth and its creatures, and countless years she had kept her distance. While the animals of the forest were always welcome to join her as she swept through the landscape scattering snow showers, most could not handle the colder climates. For most, she was to be avoided, hidden from - only the likes of the snowshoe hare and arctic fox remained to keep her company through the more bitter months. Humans, however, were another story entirely. They were more curious and more foolhardy than the animals, and more dangerous most of all. She'd never allowed more contact than a fleeting glimpse of the trail of snow she left behind. None had ever come so close - particularly not without her invitation to do so.

This transgression was more serious to her than the mysterious man before her could even know. She could have wanted him then and there, but it would just have given him the satisfaction of prickling her pride. And so, this became one of the many things she needed to keep from him, not wanting to give weight to the insult she felt inside. The Sprite - in this form or her softer, warmer one - was always the one who set the distance between herself and strange people. When others could be unpredictable and untrustworthy, that space let her keep her boundaries in tact. It gave her the comfort and control where otherwise she might have none, and this man allowed her neither. He had used nearly every chance he had to maneuver himself nearer to her, something she could have taken greater steps to prevent. She was starting to regret allowing him to go unharmed by the storm...

The slightest grimace crossed her face at his question, a purposeful sign she disapproved of his question. She shouldn't have been so surprised that this stranger hadn't remained faithful to his proposition. Why, then, should she be so generous in offering up her information when he'd only want more? She could not think of any likely reason. "Asking another favor without returning the first doesn't make me particularly inclined to answer." Her refusal was no mere product of his impertinence nor her own secrecy. No, her self-preservation was paramount, her guard had only risen at his closeness. She needed to remove herself from this one and his calculating gaze. What she needed was to shift from her usual defensive tactics or she'd soon be backed into a corner. The Sprite had to regain the footing she'd lost while stubbornly refusing to bend to his will. She wasn't even sure it had worked as well as she wished it to.

She was fairly certain she'd be able to bury him under a mountain of snow and sleet - if he wanted to see havoc, she would deliver - but she still couldn't be too sure. It would be a last resort to unleash the storm on him; though his words crept under her skin and agitated her greatly, they did not warrant an avalanche to be brought down upon his head. The question then became how fat she'd allow him to go before she felt threatened enough to retaliate. Though that was the last thing she wanted to do... when might it become necessary? Would she be able to tell soon enough when the situation began tipping in his favor, or was he just as good at hiding his advantages as he was at playing word games? For her safety and sanity's sake, she had to do something before it got to that point.

In careful, measured steps, the Sprite removed herself from the stranger's advances. The wind moved with her, changing direction as she rounded him, much like he had just minutes before. She was able to give him a wider breadth, which lowered her anxieties, but it did not mean he would not try his luck again. The possibility remained in the back of her mind, keeping her eyes on his dark figure as she moved. The Sprite left no footprints as she moved; she did not sink into the snow as much as she glided on top of it, her flowing figure leaving fresh powder in her wake. Now with a bit of distance once more, she spoke again. "I could ask you the same," she began, glazing over the fact she just admitted to not knowing just who or what he was. It was likely already clear in her wariness of him and the surprise at which he transformed before her eyes that she knew little of his kind. She did not pause; she didn't want to allow him to comment on the matter. "I could offer up an exchange..." she continued, alluding to the one he just evaded. "But I'm not one to make a deal if I don't intend to carry through." Her tone remained steady as her movements, circling her way to her desired destination.

When finally she'd put several more feet between them and found herself on the higher end of the mountain's slope, at last she stopped. The Sprite allowed herself a breath as she settled into place, meaning to take root once more. As she turned to face the unnamed stranger, the icicles framing her face collided once more, causing the faintest of jingles - a bright and usually happy sound in an otherwise tense situation. The pocket of still air around them remained, as did the potential for her to let it loose. Any need for more aggressive action on her part remained to be seen, and were entirely dependent on his next moves. As long as they were engaged in conversation instead of combat, she might be able to discern something of his nature and his intentions. Had he flown down from above her to simply watch her as she traversed the foreboding landscape? That hardly sounded truthful. Perhaps it was her doubt of his sincerity that tugged at her curiosity. Maybe that why she stayed even when she'd had plenty of opportunity to flee.

"You seem clever -" she began, ignoring her better judgement. It was no throwaway comment meant to flatter him (the deliberate addition of 'seem' left room for him to fall flat of that observation). Instead it was a primer for her next question, though her last had still gone unanswered. "What would be your best guess?"


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