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[Ali]

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CURRENT SEASON: SUMMER

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The courts are in a state of un-ease and restlessness, with each new season approaching, another court takes it's time to slumber, with this involuntary slumber, comes weakness - something no one regent or kingdom enjoys.
The Summer Court currently holds strong, slowly rising from the birth of Spring, it's glowing rays and warm breezes are enveloping all those around them - including the much apathetic Winter Court which seems to be preying for Summers short-coming.

The High Court is in a state of mediocrity; needing a sprinkle of spice, something the bloodied hands may find himself thrown into.
The Dark Court finds itself at a high, stronger than ever with the Gabrielle at the Kings side, the Queen, stronger than ever, and the court, living from the shadow girls strength.

Solitaries are struggling to find a place to fit in, most seem to cling to the power of the Dark Court, however, few POWERFUL fey have decided to stick it out on their own. War has been causing trouble for the High Court, reading into a past she knows all to well was forbidden long ago by the Eolas. The High King finds himself struggling with the advances the solitaries have taken, he wishes to be back in the days of simplistic hierarchy rulings, and has decided to peruse the issue.

Love weeps for the Dark Court - she see's no sense in hatred and hurt, and has focused her efforts on trying to stop this utter disaster... even if she has to seek the help of someone she would NEVER trust.

The Sighted Humans are becoming prey for the High Court - targets that the King and Queen do not trust with their secret. Few are known to the rulers of the High Court, yet they keep themselves on constant look-out, bloodied hands at the ready.

The Eolas stay silent, watching, waiting, and constantly interfering - they are ready to unleash the seasons, all four, it just depends on the proper moment - Spring and Autumn shall soon be ready to blossom, or fall, whichever suits their preference.

[Picture/Banner - Optional]
Name:
Location:
Activity:
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(Please be sure to include any '@' tags, should you want to interact with someone.)

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[Miranda Sage Barnard]

Moncha Location: Faerie, Foyer of the High Court

Activity: Currently making her way purposefully across the gleaming marble towards the set of doors leading to the throne room of the high court. Several guards move to intercept her, but she deftly dances around them cheerily singing "All you Need is Love" as she goes. One shrewd guard leaps for her legs but is met by a swift quick to the jaw and is punted back towards the wall by the Lady. Swords are drawn by his brethren. Her pink skirt swirls around her legs. They charge. And all at once the High Court's Finest are bruised and bludgeoned but unbloodied across the fine marble floors. And Love is skipping over to the sole bystander of the battle, a courier with knobby knees knocking in fright.

"Tell your Mistress, Lady Moncha of the Solitary Fey seeks an audience with their majesties at their earliest convenience. She will be awaiting them in the receiving room."

And she skips through the oaken doors of the throne room humming lightly to herself the ending bars of the song. Leaving the shocked courier stumbling to compose himself in a room full of disposed guards.

"Oh and the Patissiere with the blond hair likes Marigolds and chocolate covered raspberries. And she happens to be free next Thursday, if you're interested. Now run along Dearling. No one likes to be kept waiting."

@Tarieles @Ali

 

[Ali]

♚♚♚

◢[spoili]
Activity & Location
ⅠPondering the Beauty and Solidarity of the High Court
(High Court Gardens)

ⅡReacting to a disturbance
(Walking towards the Throne Room)

Ⅲ Crashing into a High Court Messenger
(One of the many hallways to the Throne Room)

Ⅳ Arriving in the Throne Room to find Moncha
(Throne Room)

Ⅴ Speaking with the Solitary Fey of Love & Tending to her Guards
(Throne Room)

Interactions & Tags

Moncha - Solitary Faerie of Love - @Miranda Sage Barnard
Drystan Lucian Renaud - High King - @Tarieles

Notes

• Aphra is apart of Faerie as it is apart of her (and her husband), therefore, the world shapes around her with her will, and those who possess the same ability.

Writing Music
*The music I chose to listen to while writing rarely has anything to do with the post itself, it just helps me focus*

[/spoili]◣

Aphra stood removed from the rest within the solitary and ever-moving gardens of the High Court. She often came here to ponder many things. Such things constantly plagued her mind, varying from plague of the earthen-realm, to anything as large as the constant unbalance of the power shared between the earthen-realm courts. Aphra remained in Faerie mostly because of these reasons - she was in a constant state of apprehension, however, her external self always remained unchanging, as her name and title stated - she was the High Queen - Aphra was the unchanging Queen, such emotions she left to her other half to quell.

The garden before Aphra began to shift into a cliff overlooking a massive body of water, it closely resembled one of the many bodies of water on Earth. Aphra often remodeled Faerie after the things she had seen in the human world, with her own flare of course. As the image before her shifted, so did she. Her hair began swaying as free as leaves blown by a spring breeze; her eyes took on different, colourful shades that came and went as fast as the seasons and humans lifetimes. She was ever-changing, as was Faerie.

The image before Aphra momentarily changed to discord and violence, beautiful violence that made no sense to the unchanging monarch. She watched as Tsunami's crashed into unsuspecting shores; as hurricanes swept over desolate lands, home to many creatures, yet no humans. "Always when I least expect you..." Aphra's voice came out strained, and in multiple tones. She spoke with different languages every other word, and a different tone - not always a woman's.

The powerful Fae turned from the imagery before her, cutting a small window into the white wall before her. Just as she shaped Faerie, she was able to move throughout it, without resistance, even if that meant literally ripping holes in the world itself. Aphra stepped through the ample sized gouge floating no-where in particular, yet in just the right place that she was able to easily step through it and re-appear exactly where her mind had intended to take her; the entrance hallway to the throne room.

Aphra stood before the grandiose doors that lead to the High Court throne room - a room open to most everyone in Faerie. There was no strict law in Faerie that restricted people from visiting the King and Queen, yet, most Faeries knew the importance of making their presence known; especially if they were from the Earthen-realm courts. Aphra was about to enter the throne room before she found herself colliding with a figure before her. Being about two times his size, Aphra looked down to the small, startled fey.

"M-my Q-queen.. you--you have a v-visitor..."
Aphra looked down at the fey, unfazed by his emotions, however, she felt slight concern for the poor fey, he had been rattled quite harshly, and from what Faerie told her, the fey that had done this was the last possible guess Aphra would have ever made.
"Thank you, Quincy. Please, go clear your head, I shall' speak with Love."

The High Queen looked towards the grandiose doors before her, bringing her pointer and thumb to the bridge of her nose in order to subside the headache that seemed to be forming. She walked to the center of where the doors parted, watching as the simply opened at her presence. It was if the doors themselves were welcoming the Queen, as they made loud, rough, creaking noises upon opening wide for her entrance.

Aphra entered a scene she truly did not wish to see today. Guards and Fey, all of High Court, lay beaten and bruised on the floor. She momentarily counted her blessing that none of them were dead - so should they be if it had been War who was visiting, yet this was the all too temperamental Love - Moncha, as she was called in this century. Aphra didn't acknowledge the Faery that stood to her left, impatiently awaiting the monarchs appearance - she simply glided past the solitary, her dresses train following her, appearing to wash over the floor like waves, before just as suddenly transforming to billowing grass in a hot summer's breeze.

Aphra approached her throne, sitting down on the never-still marbled. She placed her hands to her sides, eyeing down the solitary fey before her, before speaking in the mixed tones that always fell from her lips. "Moncha. Before we speak, do tell of why you have injured my fey?" Aphra's tones seemed to stay on the lower and harsher end of any - she was angered, however, emotions were not something she capitalized on, therefore, she would only show them through voice - her face itself, remained stoic.

The rainbow haired faery shifted her hand upwards before her eyes, waving it across the room. As soon as her hand found it's way back to the throne's armrest, the guards had disappeared, as well as the other injured fey. Their bodies had been taken to a location within Faerie where they could heal and recuperate. Aphra closed her eyes, prepared for the excuses that Love would create. Aphra was not the violent type, however, she had the violent types at her disposal and should people harm the High Court fey, she was prepared to use them.

A wave of emotion washed over her, bringing her eyes to open rather swiftly. She looked to the ceiling of the throne room, it's astral appearance breath-taking and ever-changing. She focused on one of the more apparent constellations; it's body moving and twisting, fighting against something trying to break through.

"Drystan comes."

♚♚♚​

 

[Miranda Sage Barnard]

Moncha

Faerie, The Throne Room

She quirks an eye at the unflappable Unchanging Queen as the wounded are spirited away and the marble of the floors melts into grassy fields. The question is not unexpected. Nor is it unwarranted. It was the response she had been planning for. She closes her eyes and lets herself drift for a bit, through the field, through the room, through the...Got it.

Her eyes flick open.

"Have I enraged you, Madame? Do you seek Justice? Or Vengeance? If it's the former let me set your mind at ease, I fully followed the rules of Guest-hood when I arrived. It was your fey that broke the rules of Hospitality. And if it's the latter, well, that's rather dark of you A. Not that I necessarily disapprove, but you would not be within your rights to seek it, and it would be breaking the rules." Age colored her tone with the darkness of one who had meted out punishment for just such an offense countless times past.

Noticing the queen's attention had wandered, Moncha followed her gaze to the starry skies.

"Well, CooCooCachou to you too."

@Ali
@Tarieles

 

[Tarieles]

[fieldbox="Landris Latimer, #3366ff, solid, 5, Blackadder ITC"]King Landis huffed, running his hand through his hair. His shadow girl was missing. Well, missing was a vague term. More like, was off doing something of her own volition. He had no qualms about her doing such a thing, but he really hated it whenever she wasn't immediately at his beck and call. He followed the connection with her, and soon enough found her. He had something to give her.

"Pandora. My sweet." He approached, reaching a hand out to stroke her hair. "I have something for you." He told her, holding his hand out to show a lovely black and gold jeweled egg necklace. He had spent some time trying to find it in the human world. It hadn't been easy. He smiled a bit, holding it up. "It's a locket. Sort of." He grasped the top, clicking it open. A small, red and gold glass rose sat on a pedestal. It couldn't be removed, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"For you." He said wrapping the chain around her neck, and fastening it behind her. "I do hope you enjoy it." He loved spoiling her, and she loved it when he spoiled her too. She was rich and loved the fancy things in life, which he was more than happy to give to her. He also loved to take her shopping, and watching her dress in all the lovely things that would inevitably be for his own pleasure. "Perhaps we can do something this fine day."

He was tired of the hustle and bustle of the castle already. It definitely didn't suit him. The various problems that needed addressing were tiring and he wanted to slaughter everyone. In order to stop that from happening, he usually let his wife take over the castle matters. She was much more suited to them than he ever would be.

Location: Dark Palace
Activity: Talking with Pandora
@Pasiphae @~Dark.Disney.Triplet~[/fieldbox][fieldbox=Drystan Renaud, #ffcc00, dashed, 10, Brush Script MT]
Having dealt with some work that needed to be done, Drys felt Aphra moving about Fearie, finally resting in the throne room. Something needed to be done or someone was here to see them, there wasn't many other reasons she would be in the throne room. He stood from his desk in his office, which he had made as a place where only he could enter.

He created a portal from his office, and went immediately to the throne room. His portals were much different looking than his wife's. His looked like tempests in the rift of reality. Storms raged in the void before him, different colors morphing, clouds swirling. They were much more to his liking. He felt at ease in this plane. After a short walk through this maelstrom, he found himself right where he wanted; right next to Aphra. He smiled kindly, kissing her hand. His expression immediately hardened into a bit of a sneer at seeing Moncha.

"Moncha. I see you have... graced us with your presence." Drystan was not a fan of the solitary fey, any of them. He could appreciate War's ideals, to keep everything scattered and unbalanced, but he did not like the idea of harming others to do so. The others were a necessary annoyance. He looked towards the door, shaking his head softly, his voice turning to remorse. "Why would you harm our innocent fey? They have done nothing but their job."

Location: Throne Room
Activity: Speaking with Aphra and Moncha
@Ali @Miranda Sage Barnard[/fieldbox][fieldbox="Concordia Lytton, #339966, dotted, 0, Colonna MT"]
Having found she enjoyed the human realm significantly more than Faerie, Concordia was seated a lovely little smoothie stand, where there was seating outside. Her hair was modeled perfectly, and her attire was simple yet elegant. She wore a white sundress which fell to her knees, and had a gray leather belt around the waist. She wore a baby blue and white flowered shawl over her arms, and gray suede flats. Her jewelry was silver and simplistic, with only a small faux diamond encrusted pendant necklace and simple silver stud earrings. Her makeup was natural and mostly nudes, with a soft pink adorning her lips.

Concordia loved the human realm. She sipped on a strawberry, pineapple, and mango smoothie, loving the feel of the cold running down her throat. It was a pleasant day in the city. People were hustling around, which she didn't enjoy but also didn't mind. They had things to do. No awful fights had broken out between people. She considered this to be a pleasant day. The only thing that would ruin it would be War showing up unannounced.

She sighed, feeling down for a moment, thinking about War. However, she quickly brushed those thoughts from her mind, and stood, taking her smoothie with her. It was in a thin plastic cup with a lid. She walked down the street, feeling quite at peace, despite the noise of the city. As she approached the middle, she could feel her anxiety rising as the sounds became louder and more frequent and rushed. This was where she felt like she wished she could stop time and just solve everyone's problems so they'd stop fighting. She knew her aura would help, but not to the extent she wanted.
Location: Huntsdale Center
Activity: Walking and sipping her smoothie
@kimsim12 (mentioned War)[/fieldbox]​

 

[Miranda Sage Barnard]

Moncha

High Court Throne Room

"Am I the only one that still follows the ancient laws?" Genuine curiosity mingled with her frustration. The way these two kept going on you would think she had launched a full on one woman assault against them. "I would have thought that at least the Unchanging Queen would still honor them, if not the High Court in its entirety. I was offered hospitality by you yourself back in the eighth century. Or was it the ninth?" Her tone drifted with her mind back through the eons.

It had been a different time then. The dichotomy between the courts less extreme. There had been more room then, less humans and their cold iron to drive the fey together. The Solitary fey more solitary in truth then, less organized-the King would not be born for centuries yet.Love herself-she was not Moncha then, she would not be Moncha until the end of the twentieth century and the name she had used then was lost to the sands of time- had been welcome at every table. And that could not have been more true than in the High Court. She hadn't had silks then or the costly Indian dyes she would later so adore, but she had worn jewels and enough gold she made her own music when she danced. And she had danced. Drys had been one of her favorite partners if memory served. Aphra serenely watching from her throne in the midst of the revel. They had been friends.

But that was a long time ago.

"When was Charlemagne crowned? I suppose it doesn't matter." She stepped lightly forward, swaying with the stormy breeze the Turbulent King brought with him. Her demeanor suddenly changed as she centered herself before the monarchs. Her tone hardened, her eyes narrowed, her posture becoming rigid.

"I've come to discuss what is to be done about the Dark Court."


@Ali @Tarieles

 

[Jihae]

.The Throne Room.
@Ali @Miranda Sage Barnard @Tarieles

There is nothing more wonderful than seeing flying Guards and quivering Fae being taunted and tattered by a girl with no true meaning than to cause utmost excuses and twirls from a pretty pink skirt.
Xander watched the scene with hopeful eyes, and of course, every time he blinked, a photograph will be taken. Not an actual photograph, but a mental one, one that will always be in his mind to laugh at until his mind, like a celebrity, can't take any more pictures.

Xander walked with a quick pace, the buttons and buckles on his bomber jacket and boots clicking against each other with perfect rhythm. Soon enough, each guard and Fae slowly disappeared one by one, probably into a place of pitiful healing. Such a same, for a woman with the title of "Love," she sure had some nerve causing something that was, well, not love at all.
Perhaps, Xander thought to himself, Moncha was beating people senseless out of Love.
No. That was a stupid idea.
And so Xander kept walking, heading towards the throne room, where the commotion seems to be held and dealt with.

Normally, Xander wouldn't go into the Throne Room unless he needed his hands to be bloodied as ordered by his blood siblings, but something in him wanted to witness the day unravel, even if he had to be in two places at once.
Speaking of his blood siblings, Xander could have been using portals to travel the whole time. It would have been much more convenient and quicker, and by this point, he was already missing a good drama.

His portal was very much different than Aphra's and Drystan's.
It was still, much more like a room, perhaps. A dark burgundy, floral printed, room filled to the brim with antique framed photographs to fit his unique ability. These photographs were in variety; black and white photos, antique glossed over photos, colored photos, you name it. These pictures were a part of the history of Faeries, from the dawn of time to the present.
The pictures moved and danced around from frame to frame as if they were connected together in some way. Which they were, and as Xander walked through his portal to travel to the throne room, he would always find two pictures exactly to catch his eye. That was his goal, as he would never see the same photo twice.

Yes, these photos do move.
↔ [spoili]

[/spoili] ↑

→ [spoili]

[/spoili] ↵
Yes, these photos do move.

Before long, Xander popped into the Throne Room, observing the scene. He smirked and shrugged, not wanting to make a sound.
But he did anyway, and to make an appearance, he suddenly said,

"For being the reincarnation of Love, you sure are causing a racket. What do you wish with the Dark Court, anyways?"
​

 

[Miranda Sage Barnard]

Moncha

High Court Throne Room

Frustrated by the complete and utter lack of response from the King and Queen of Faerie, she twirled around to face the newcomer to the ongoing drama of her attempts to speak sense with the so-called most sensible court. Honestly if she wanted this much trouble getting to the point she might have decided to call upon the Summer Monarchs, at least they're progeny didn't fancy herself as having dominion over her- not that she resented the Solitary King his court. Squinting into the inexplicably descended darkness of the room that was not a room she searched for the owner of the voice.

Flickering eyes catching on familiar black leather, a grin split her face. " X!" She rushed towards him, the bangles on her ankles clattering in welcome to another man who had been a friend in ages past- although if the Bloodied Hands recalled such times was always a mystery- she remembered herself a scant seven inches from throwing her arms around him in greeting. Such an act would have been a breach in the rules of guest-hood, one time friend or not, and she would not commit such a trespass with Xander, her respect and affection for him too great. Drystan and Aphra may have danced with her in their court of old, but it had always been X who truly appreciated her- even if he had never been able to understand her.

After skidding to a halt, she summoned all the dignity and courtly grace she possessed to say, "My greetings to you Adviser. I wish that this were purely a social call upon this most gracious court, but I bring unfortunate tidings this eve. The Dark Court, to whom your own", this she pitched her voice in the direction of the still inattentive monarchs. Lowering her tone again she continued, "has been in balance with since antiquity, has gained an unusually compelling Shadow Girl and a particularly fierce new Gabriel in the past few seasons. The king considers himself smitten with the young Pandora, and the Queen predictably is not amused. Alone this would not be all that troubling but paired with the increasingly destructive bent of the court as a whole, the capitulation of hundreds of solitaries to the Dark Court's ranks, and the relative stagnation of your Court as a whole, and I for one fear that the future may be Dark indeed. I came to discuss strategy, in this game, with those I hold as allies when it comes to averting the ruination the Dark Court seems determined to met out. What say you, Xander?"

@Ali @Jihae @Tarieles

 

[Jihae]

.The Throne Room.
@Ali @Tarieles @Miranda Sage Barnard

Xander noticeably took a step back as Moncha rushed towards him with utmost informality. Her scream of a greeting almost made Xander cower in uncomfortable intimidation. Fortunately, Xander knew Moncha very well, although he was not as close with her as he would like to, which isn't very much. His nickname, X, was almost unfamiliar, as he hasn't heard it for quite some time. The greeting from Love gave Xander a flood of memories, and to that, he was grateful. For a while.

She must have noticed her casual actions, as Moncha came to a skidding halt. Xander was somewhat pleased by this, not that he minded others being informal with him. Although, he could have sworn she was going in for a hug, which displeased him greatly. Not only did it break guest rules, but touching him would end up in a bit of physical defense.

Xander was comfortable talking to people in an informal tone, but to be frank, he could not quite learn how to be formal in most situations when he's in the Faerie realm.
He had his fading memory to blame for all of his troublesome nature.

"Fratello, quite nice to see your familiar faces again." He nodded at the King and Queen carelessly before returning his gaze to Moncha as she stated her case.

"The Dark Court, to whom your own,"

Xander scoffed at the snarky reaction towards Moncha's explanation. He could obviously tell that before he had arrived, the King and Queen had already managed to piss someone off today. Luckily, it wasn't him.
Once she had finished her explanation, Xander nodded and spat out an immediate answer.

"Although I have heard your case and understood it very well, I am merely the underdog regarding this realm. Therefore, it is not my call to say anything in the matter that will be turned into action, although, if I may, I will state my opinion,"

Xander did not wait for a response.

"Planning out a strategy seems to be the only logical method by what you say, Moncha, and I would not wish on my own life, even though we, including myself, are immortal, that this realm be turned into a dark despair. You see, melancholy is not my color."

His speech was an obvious effort to be, "formal." It was awkward and the tone was off on many occasions. When flustered or nervous, Xander's eye contact is nowhere to be found as his pupils are moving in any direction possible. His posture, hand gestures, and physical confidence were the only things that could save him from looking like a complete fool.
His belonging in the High Court did not match the speech that will forever flow from Xander's lips. Xander gave himself a mental slap across the face, only to motivate him by telling himself that he tried, and that's all that mattered.
He almost threw up a little by telling himself that.

"And what about you two? What do you say about the situation?"
He looked over to the King and Queen, his bony fingers running through his platinum blonde hair as he fidgeted in unsatisfactory impatience.


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