[fieldbox="Faelin, gray, solid"]
The solid click of heels echoed down the empty corridors, the ground itself seemed to tremble at her very presence. The air fled to the corner of the halls and clung there like cobwebs while the shadows spun at her heels like a loving cat, following her down the corridor. For she was the mother of the night, all the darkness gathered at her feet and fell to her commands, the light existed because she allowed it to, she was Faelin, Queen of the Unseelie.
The doors to the feast hall flew open in fear of her very presence, the candles flickered out before the flames tripled in size with the colour of blood rippling through them. Her shadow filled the room, touching every corner and with it came the deep freeze of an eternal night, her very presence was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the most courageous and leave at the centre of its devastation the feeling of the hand of death itself against ones soul.
Though the candles flicker died to a steady and sensible gait, the shadows shrunk and in their place was Faelin. The purest white silver skin that would rival that of the moon itself, standing at a petite five foot and two inches tall, she was slender and lithe like a willow branch, with long white hair that fell to her hips guided by an unseen breeze. Her mirror like eyes caught what little light was in the room and appeared like silver fish in infinitely deep ponds. One could easily mistake the Unseelie Queen for Seelie if it were not for the long tail of blackened bone that left her coccyx and spiralled around to her feet, each vertebrae held by a sinewy of blackened hue and magic so dark it couldn't be seen.
Today was an important day and while clothing did not suit her she found herself dressing for the occasion, the shadows wrapped her in their silken embrace, like raven feathers the skirt hung, it's tips whipped and moved by the drafts and breezes created by all those who moved here. The back was low cut, allowing for her tail to roam free and curl out of the way against her leg. It hid little of her outline, the shape of her rear exposed as were the shape of her breasts in front, held by the force so that her cleavage spilled over the top of the black. Clothes were such a
mortalaffair, they disgusted her and so she wore only what she saw fit.
While her petite stature and innocent looks would have many new blood laughing to themselves at the terror they felt those who had stood in her presence before knew better. For while her shadow had shrunk her magnificence and dreadfulness still permeated every brick and every stone in the hall. Her eyes fell on the guests, the Seelie among them shivering at her intense wandering gaze, the Unseelie standing firm though quivering internally.
Those pretty cupid bow lips turned into a small smile and the Unseelie slipped a step away for they knew what was to come. A voice as soft as snow and delicate as glass whispered from that tiny form, and the observant would realise she spoke in naught but a whisper but her voice permeated the entire room,
"I see my son has not yet arrived." Her head bowed lightly and the beginnings of a frown formed.
"This displeases me."
The Unseelie took a second step away, the shadows at her feet snaking with anger and striking at nearby furniture and people with no discrimination. Though with her head bowed like a sulking child she seemed almost unaware of the chaos she caused as she stepped through the room. Her kin backed away and bowed low at her approach, hoping to appease their Queen's fouling mood, it would do no good to have her angered before the Seelie showed and continued to irritate her. She paused at the tables head where she was meant to sit and her eyes befell her glass. And she sighed…
One of the Unseelie quickly grabbed the glass and threw it against the wall, ordering the servants that should they wish to keep their heads this night they fetch the Queen's glass and fill it according to her wishes. The staff scrambled and the 'hero' of the moment turned to his Queen and met her gaze and he froze, caught in the soft, sweet smile and the mirrored eyes. This could go either way for the young fool....
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