Hiraeth

Viverescribere

Viverescribere

Always looking to write
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  2. One post per day
  3. Multiple posts per week
  4. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
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  4. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Magical, Romance (usually within other genres), Dystopia,.




Melina

The village of Ewell always boasted a busy and well-stocked market. It seemed like one could find anything they wanted there, from a certain herb leaf all the way up to a fine-leather saddle worthy of a mighty steed. Due to the resourcefulness of the market, it saw lots of trade and, therefore, revenue, making it one of the more popular villages to buy produce from. People from two villages over even came to cast their eyes over the wears that were being sold or bartered for. Most of the time one could buy what they wanted for a decent prize. There wasn't a need, in Ewell, to sell above the worth of something, not when there was so much business you could afford to sell items at a decent prize and sell a lot of them.

It was one of the reasons why Melina preferred to visit Ewell, despite the risk. Although she had become a familiar face to some of the vendors and many now saw her as one of their own. Even if she wasn't. However it was better that they didn't know that. While Melina didn't mind some of the vendors, and enjoyed casual conversation with them, she knew better than to ever trust a single one of them with the truth. Friends could turn to enemies in a blink of an eye these days.

It's why she kept her hair pinned back over her ears, to hide the truth. For a single look at the pointed tips would inform everyone close enough to see them of what she was.

With the Kingdom of Findara searching for all creatures mythological and magic in order to kill them, and the Kingdom of Pendilor seeking them out to enslave and use them in battle, Melina was certainly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Although, that being said, it would have been stupid to remain within close quarters of Findara, especially with their soldiers extending their searches beyond their typical perimeters. It would be safer to stay within Pendilor's territories and pass off as a human... at least attempt to. That being said, it seemed to be working well for Melina at the moment, having been keeping up her act for the past seven months.

She kept her story vague as to where she lived, saying that she was about two miles north outside the village walls. Her tale spun with a mixture of lies and truths: she was a healer (true), her parents had passed during the influenza that swept the Kingdom five years ago (lie). It was much easier to keep herself straight and to not get caught out when some of her supposed life was mixed in with her real.

Melina took to Ewell to buy things she needed to survive, but also to sell pastes and herbs, grown and made within her little hut in the forest, to the humans. Not that they knew they were Fey made, though she had started to wonder if they would even care considering the amount of buzzing reviews she had received.

"Lina!"

The Fey woman stumbled back with a soft laugh as a little girl barrelled into her, smiling down at her as small arms wrapped around her legs. Instinctively a hand came down to rest on the child's head, and Melina raised an eyebrow, "Winnie, you're getting stronger by the day! I think you need to start being careful lest you bowl me over into the mud!" She moved her hand to the young girl's chin as she looked up with a giggle. The Fey's eyes ran over the face that looked up at her, taking in the gleam to her eyes and the rosiness to her cheeks, "You're feeling better now?"

Winnie nodded furiously, pulling back and twisting this way and that in order to ruffle up her dress skirts, "Much! Daddy said to thank you for your special drink. He said you saved my life."

Melina smile quietened and she crouched down, lowering her basket onto the floor, "You're very welcome, little bird." She murmured, tapping her nose gently, "Now, what are you doing today? I'm in need of an assistant and I can't seem to find anyone..."

"Me! Me! I can do it!" A hand shot straight up into the hair, chest puffing out with pride and the young woman laughed again, standing and straightening, "Well then, shall we get going? Can't afford to open the stall late. And, if you're extra good today, maybe I'll get us a strawberry tart from the Bakers for lunch. But you can't tell anyone okay? S'got to be our little secret."

Nodding, Winnie moved to Melina's side to grasp hold of her hand. From there the two walked to Melina's stall, the child skipping with every step.

@Dipper


Melina Loset


NAME
Melina Loset
NICKNAME/S
Lina
AGE
23
SPECIES
Fey
OCCUPATION
Occasional Healer
ATTIRE
Medieval peasant dress - linen, muslin, cotton. Leather boots, legging-type bottoms underneath dresses that can be pulled up and tied around the waist. Thick leather belts around the majority of her waist.
TATTOOS
None of note
PIERCINGS[/B]
Standard lobe || x1 ||
SCARS
Crescent shaped scar on back of hand near thumb ||
MARKINGS
When manipulating air/wind, lines of white/silver appear from her hairline. It almost looks like she is cracking as they appear from her hairline or the edges of her face.
FACE CLAIM
Alicia Agneson || Actress || Vikings ||



PERSONALITY

LIKES
The smell of mint || The smell of leather || The smell of parchment || The colour blue || Soft breezes on warm days || Strawberry tarts || Roasted wild boar || Mead || Storms || Thunder || Mist || Clouds || Swimming in lakes || Wind chimes ||
DISLIKES
Cranberries || Blueberries || Fish (alive or as food) || Ale || Stagnant/still air || Hail || Gambling || The colour yellow || Soggy bread || Closed spaces || The smell inside taverns || People being late || Rudeness || Superstition/old wives tales ||
HOBBIES
Preparing pastes for her healing jobs || Preparing potions for her healing jobs ||
HABITS/QUIRKS
Mumbles/talks in sleep || Blinks when surprised || Sometimes hums while thinking || Traces childhood scar on left hand when lost in thought ||
TALENTS
Air/wind manipulation || Healing knowledge || Knowledge of herbs || Magic manipulation ||
MAGIC/KNOWLEDGE
Herbal remedies for wounds/illnesses || General magic manipulation || Specialises/stronger in air/wind: can manipulate and create air-related elements at will and can affect the weather to a certain degree (e.g. creating hurricanes/storms) ||
MAGICAL INFLUENCE
When manipulating air/wind, lines of white/silver appear from her hairline. It almost looks like she is cracking as they appear from her hairline or the edges of her face.
FEARS
Being caught || Being enslaved || Being murdered for who she is || Being burned alive ||
HISTORY



Hex Code: #a4cbfd
 
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On occasion, Gareth found himself paying a visit to one of the villages dotting the land. It was reports that drew him to this particular village and the hunters therein, waiting for orders from his father. But his father, aging as he was, no longer showed an interest in traveling the land as Gareth did, and so Gareth took on the responsibility of keeping the men on task. He reveled in it, in the possibilities should their searches bear fruit, but he was careful not to show it as he sent the hunters back into the woods to follow up on a villager's report.

Gareth kept his arrival a quiet affair, draping a drab coat over fine clothing and an even finer blade. He entered the village from the east to take in the sights, watching, as he was wont to do, from the sidelines while he searched for a bakery. His mother - him as well - had a sweet tooth, but his father had ordered the kitchens to stay away from anything that could affect his mother's constitution. Nothing but the healthiest of choices, he decreed.

What nonsense.

Something small, he decided. Then he could join the men on their search through the woods to shake off some of his excess energy. And maybe his father would be pleased, for once. A mystical being to state his desire for magical power, to come ever closer to finding a cure for his mother.

They knew not what ailed her, only that it was supernatural in nature and none of their physicians made a difference, nor could they accurately name the cause of her sickness. She was simply… ill. So a disease of the otherworldly sort was their only lead.

Gareth himself didn't care for wars like his father did, but if it could help his mother… He'd taken part in many hunts. He'd returned to his father with shapeshifters and witches and beasts of many talents. He bore their marks under his cloak. He felt no shame. They'd tricked and used mortals for centuries, so was it any surprise that the same mortals learned to do the same?

At the end of a small dirt road, he found himself standing before an apothecary's closed shop. Around to the other side, the village center, where stalls of all sorts had been set up for the day.

He stopped at the first, selling a variety of baubles he had no need for.

"You make these by hand?" he asked, eyeing a tiny bird shaped from copper.

"Oh!" The man minding the stall leaned forward with an almost shy smile. "Yes, they are. A day's work and two days for the material. Are you interested?"

"Yes," Gareth said. "If you tell me where to find the apothecary."

The man happily slipped the little copper bird into a tiny pouch. "He's been out awhile, to tell you the truth. But there's a fine young woman who sells the same for a fairer price, I think." He traded the pouch for a tiny silver coin. "What for?"

"Do you normally ask the business of your patrons?"

Chuckling, the man held out his hands in supplication. "My apologies. We all need a taste of mundane chatter from time to time."

"If you say so," Gareth said, more amused than truly bothered. He gave the man a curt nod and a faint smile. "Thank you."

He left the man's stall with his strange little prize to inspect the second, and then the third. The healer's stall would have to wait - Gareth was rather easily distracted, and had found himself wound up in the day-to-day shopping he rarely got to indulge in.
 




Melina

"Is it time for strawberry tarts yet, Lina?"

The Fey woman chuckled as Winnie tugged at her skirts, handing over a small glass tub of herbal paste to one of her patrons before turning to face the child. "You're that hungry, hm?" She inquired, eyebrow raising and only ended up laughing again as Winnie's eyes turned wide and bottom lip poked out with a nod. What a classic move, the child knew that Melina couldn't resist such an adorable look.

Humming softly in thought, she raised her eyes to the sky to take stock of where the sun was. The morning had gone quick, and it was to her amazement that she realised that it was between twelve and one already.

Melina looked back down to Winnie, who had now clasped hands together to rest them under her chin, the wide-eyes still turned up onto her in desperation to get the answer she was looking for. Smiling, the young healer reached for her pouch of coins, which only served to have the child bouncing around with a large grin on her face. "You go on ahead and get them, I'll just put these away."

The child was gone before Melina could even finish her sentence, snatching coins from Melina's palm and running off in the direction of the bakery. Shaking her head in amusement, Melina hid away her wares and asked the old man beside her if he could look after the stall while she was away.

The market was once more heaving with people, clearly from all over, as there were a few faces she didn't recognise. Those were the kind that made her the most nervous, as she wasn't sure who they were or where they had come from. She knew the Hunters visited from time to time, but had always managed to pass undetected before. However Melina was always nervous that her time would run out, anxious that one day she would be caught and her true nature revealed. Not that she hadn't thought about how she would escape before, those scenarios ran through her mind constantly. She had her powers, of course, but never had she used them to inflict harm upon a person before. She would never seek to kill, but to knock someone out or to cause an obstruction or even a small injury to ensure she wouldn't be followed... that was the lengths of it.

It was another reason why she feared being caught. If she ever was, would they force her into battle? If so, how could she do such a thing when to murder would be expected of her?

Shaking her head at such thoughts, Melina pulled her cloak on over her shoulders and settled her coin bag into a small pocket sewn into the inside. She continued her path to the bakery, smiling and murmuring polite acknowledgements to familiar faces and previous patrons as she did so.

"Lina! I got them! Hurry up!" Winnie waited for her in front of the baker's shop window, that bared all the delicious treats that waited inside. She watched, while she approached, as the little girl peered inside one of the paper bags at the sweetness that waited within, pink tongue darting out to sweep over lower lip.

"Alright, I'm coming--" However Melina couldn't finish her sentence, as her attention was caught by the sack of flour that was being pulled up to the window a few floors above Winnie's head. It was to her horror as she watched the rope slacken, everything seeming to slow in motion.

Her feet picked up in speed as she ran toward the girl, but she knew she wouldn't make it in time, "Winnie! Move!" She cried out, witnessing the young girl look up with a startled expression. Passersby also seemed to realise, sluggishly, what was going on.

Without a single thought to what it meant for her, Melina's left hand reached up to sweep from the centre of her chest and to the left. It all happened quickly after that.

Winnie was pushed out of the way by a sudden, gentle but forceful gust of wind. In her place, the sack of flour landed and burst, littering the street with white and dusting the bakery window. White-silver cracks appeared to frame Melina's face as her magic was used to protect the sweet little girl she had only days ago saved with a potion. In her haste to get to the young girl, she had slammed into an unsuspecting passerby, which sent her tumbling hard onto the cobblestones.

An utter commotion.

Melina laid, sprawled out, on the cobblestones, wincing at the scrapes on the heels of her palms and the slight ache to the back of her neck. She lifted her head, slowly propping herself up onto her elbows as eyes desperately searched for Winnie. She relaxed immediately at the sight of the girl laying out on a bunch of woven rugs, breathing out a sigh of relief.

Then she noticed the stares. The eyes that lingered on her face and the whispers that had started. Grazed fingers raised to brush over her skin, unable to feel the marks that would have been on show but knowing them to be there.

"Hunters! Get the Hunters! There's Fey!" A yell went up and Melina's eyes widened.

"It's the Healer! She's-- she's Fey!"

Sharply she scrambled to her feet and shoved through the crowd that had formed around her. She wanted nothing more than to go back and check on Winnie, but the people knew what she was now, she had to leave. Her hands moved to throw up the hood of her cloak, face tingling as the marks slowly died away again. She couldn't go back to her stall, even with all her wares there. The locals knew her, they would send the Hunters there first.

So Melina walked rapidly in the opposite direction of her stall, at least grateful for the coins still safe inside the pocket of her cloak.
 
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... Fey?

So the rumors were true. The hunters were on the right path all this time, making it all too convenient that he'd found himself here as well just when one presented itself. Or, perhaps tripped up was the proper terminology; he somehow didn't believe fey of any type were so easy to catch. It must have been a mistake on their part.

The hunters were quick to arrive at the scene, their slavering hounds sniffing the air. Magic was easily detected by these beasts. Their quarry couldn't have gotten far.

"She went that way, I saw 'er!" One of the villagers pointed and jumped out of the way of the charging hounds. "That way!"

"Wait!" he called to the woman, fully aware that it was pointless. She wouldn't turn if she were truly fey.

The vagueness of the man's claim suited him just fine. A woman was heading in that direction, against the crowd. His people - how strange was that, truly? - were easily distracted and prone to staring when it wasn't welcome. It was too easy to pick out a stranger amongst them, and although he couldn't tell for certain that this creature was still nearby, he had his suspicions.

"You," he pointed to one of the hunters, "with me. The rest of you fan out. Fey are tricksters by nature - be careful."

The men nodded grimly and set about their task without question.

Gareth moved quickly through the crowd. They were losing interest fast, and were easily cowed by the idea of a creature of legend living among them. It frightened them, terribly so. When the hunters came through, they knew to stay out of the way and fled into their homes. But by the time Gareth reached the edge of the village, the woman was gone and he'd never seen her face. The healer, wasn't that what they said? Healer. He never got the chance to speak with her or see her face.

A shame. He still needed a soothing tincture for mother, but capturing her was of higher importance - for now.

"She can't have gone far," said the hunter. "My hound can smell her still - shall I let him loose?"

Gareth considered it. The dogs were trained not to bring undue harm to their quarry. He gave the hunter a curt nod, and the hunter released his hound from its leash. The beast sprinted after the fleeing woman and would find her shortly. That was what they were trained to do. If it found her, and she was not what they were after, then all would well and the woman would be properly compensated. If she was... the hounds knew. They would bring her down quickly, without causing any lasting damage.

They were good at that.

Gareth and the hunter followed after it, and hoped she would not escape into the woods.
 
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Melina

It was the hounds that Melina feared most. At least with human hunters, if they hadn't seen her face, she could walk past them undetected, but once the hounds got her scent... that was it. It seemed that way now, as the moment she caught a glimpse of the rumoured beasts, her face paled and she quickly backed up and turned to walk the other way. They had responded rapidly to the call for them, and Melina was truly beginning to wonder if her time as a free being was soon to be over.

She had moved through the crowd like air, slipping and sliding within natural gaps that had formed as people moved to step into taverns or towards stalls, but having allowed parts of her to brush against them. Like a hand, her side, a part of her cloak. All in the hope that her scent would be divided and divert the numerous hounds that tracked her.

However, as news reached the furthest edges of Ewell of what was happening, the crowd was beginning to thin out, and Melina knew she had to reach the gates soon. She had been wanting to double back, to hide somewhere so she could at least get a glimpse of Winnie to make sure the little girl was definitely alright. But she knew that would not be possible, especially upon turning to look over her shoulder and catching sight of two hunters stood together, a hound between them.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she watched the beast being released from the lead he had once been constricted to. And bound immediately toward her.

The young fey woman instantly took flight again, unable to be as careful as she was before when moving within the crowd. Although sidestepping bodies had been made a lot easier since the crowd had thinned out. But that also meant it was easier for the canine too.

Melina had focused on getting to the outsides of the village gates, where a hay carriage looked ready to depart. If she could just get to that, she could dive into the contents and hide within them. Then she could drop and roll out when close enough to the forest to get home and move her life to another, unknown village.

It was all a nice plan, an optimistic one, really.

She had barely taken five steps beyond the village gates before she felt the hound pounce on her back. The fey woman came crashing down, hands once more reaching out to break her fall and eyes closing, head turning away, as some mud splashed back up at her. She could feel the coolness of it begin to seep into the front of her dress, causing goosebumps to break out violently across her skin. Melina reached out for the tuft of grass in front of her, in the hopes of attempting to drag herself from underneath the foul-breathed creature, but a single rolling growl caused her to freeze. Her hand retracted slowly and she gasped sharply as paws weighed heavily on either shoulder blade.

"Bad dog! Very naughty dog!"

Melina sharply turned her head to the other side, eyes widening at the sound of Winnie's voice and gaze settling on a pair of small, worn shoes just meters away from her face.

"Get off! Naughty doggy-- get off Lina!" The young girl attempt to command the four-legged beast, whose growls only grew in ferocity. Melina, with drying mud splattered across her left cheek and over her left eye, forced a smile, "Winnie, Winnie. It's okay, little bird. Leave the doggy alone, okay? I don't want you getting hurt."

She watched as the seven-year old pouted, arms folding across her chest, "He shouldn't be doin' this!"

"Winnie!" The young girl's father strode over to his daughter, gripping her wrist and quickly pulling her back. "Daddy, no! We gots'ta help Lina. Get the doggy off her, daddy, please!"

The father, named Edwin, barely seemed to hear his daughter, only staring down at Melina, "To think I let my daughter anywhere near you." He grumbled, lip turning up in disgust.

Melina's lips parted at the words, eyebrows knitting together and eventually eyes averting. Of course, she had saved his daughter twice now, yet she was still a dangerous, untrustworthy creature. She wanted to react with harsh words of her own, perhaps even use her magic again, but what would that do? Only prove that she was a being that deserved to be imprisoned, killed, or controlled. Either one of those three things could still happen, as she knew what the humans were like.

However it was Winnie's round, watery eyes that kept her from reacting, too anxious to scare the child any further.

"Little bird, it's okay... go with your Da, now. It's okay."
 
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Quite the display, he thought bleakly. He felt no real ill will toward these creatures, but neither did he feel any compassion. They were a means to an end who earned his pity through their sorrowful, often very human-like attachments, and even then he saw them as an object of curiosity rather than people.

The child she was with didn't need to see this. He was glad her father came to take her away, lest the hound turn moody. They were better trained than that; the beast snarled at the girl, no more. Heavy paws held her down as Gareth and the hunter approached, swords drawn. The hound woofed softly and eased up at a signal from the hunter, its great, square head swinging back to give them a grin quite unlike what was to be expected from such a great, hefty animal.

"Take the girl inside," Gareth said to the man, stepping around to one side of the dog and the woman in its grasp. "We'll handle the creature."

Beside him, the hunter clicked his tongue and the hound backed off so he could reach out with rope. Enchanted with elvish magic, supposedly, but Gareth had a hard time believing that something simple as rope could be infused with magic. The hunter did his job all the same, taking the woman by the arm and pulling her to her feet roughly. He would tie the rope around her arms, behind her back, so that she couldn't cast any more of her terrible magic.

It didn't seem all that terrible, in his opinion. None of it ever did. Even elves - short, capricious fellows - only ever spooked or healed or enchanted, but none of it was truly dangerous. Still, tying them was the safest choice. Fey were rarer than most others, less known and more negatively spoken of. They were the creatures who stole children from their beds. Regardless of the veracity of those claims, Gareth and the hunter proceeded with caution. No names were given. The hunter would not show his face.

Gareth, however, was not bound by the requirements of a hunter's occupation.

"What is your name?" he asked of the woman, moving to stand in front of her. "Do you live in the forests? With friends? Family?"

He didn't expect answers. His father required such questions from all his hunters, just in case one thought they could strike a deal in return for some information. Father never held up his end of any deal. A liar and a cheat, and he always would be. But Gareth was loyal as any son could be. He wouldn't dare deny him.

"Do you know why we've come for you?"
 




Melina

It was hard watching Winnie being dragged away by her father, knowing that soon, the young child's mind would be poisoned with stories about how dangerous Melina was and how her kind were not to be trusted. Even having saved her from illness, and then from death with the falling sack of flour, Melina would always be regarded with contempt. The humans would always believe she had a motive for doing something, when all she wanted was to live quietly, peacefully and while helping others.

She winced as she was grabbed and pulled roughly to her feet, but bit her tongue to avoid any noise of displeasure or hurt from escaping. Winnie was still within hearing distance, and she didn't wish to distress the child.

It was also why she stayed still as the rope bound her hands together, her tongue sweeping over her dried lips only to grimace at the taste of mud. Her head tipped so she could look down at herself, shoulders sagging at her ruined dress. The coolness of watery mud had seeped through the muslin and through the underlayer beneath, which meant goosebumps had broken out along her skin. However she didn't dare complain, knowing she would gather no sympathy here.

As a magical being herself, Melina could sense the throb of the enchantment within the rope, and while she pushed at it with her own magic to test it, she could feel a repelling force in return.

The young woman released a shaking breath as a response, head raising again as one of the men came to stand in front of her. She met his gaze, fingers flexing behind her back in an attempt to even just loosen the tightness of the rope as it pinched her skin.

"Does it matter what my name is?" Melina spoke after allowing the questions to linger in the air, leaving a silence to grow until it seemed like she was going to stay quiet. "All that matters is that I am Fey. And that is why you've come for me... although I doubt you would have even know what I was if it weren't for me saving that little girl today."

She turned her head to look in the direction in which Winnie was taken, glad to see that the young girl and her father was finally gone. She looked back to the man in front of her, gaze wandering down and then back up to size him up.

"Do you enjoy hunting us down?"
 
"I figured you'd prefer to be called by a name rather than a title," he said wryly. "But... fey it is."

She could fight it all she liked, Gareth bring her back regardless and this time, she wouldn't have a name to call herself. Nobody would use it. He liked to offer the chance all the same in an effort to smooth the transition somewhat, even if they couldn't see it well enough to appreciate it. He wasn't heartless. As for his father... the man liked to put names to faces, not for the humanizing effects, but because, Gareth figured, it helped sooth his own conscience.

It wouldn't surprise him if it did.

"Sure," Gareth said, sheathing his sword once she was properly restrained. "It's just a job. Where would I be if I didn't enjoy my job?" He stepped around her to call on the carriage the hunters had brought. "The more you contribute to this kingdom, the less mischief you spread around... Well, that makes me happy. So, yes. I enjoy my job."

The carriage that approached more of a cage than a carriage, with a passenger compartment near the front and an secondary compartment lined with iron bars. Etchings of symbols lined the bars from top to bottom, flaring whenever he came near. The hunters barely touched it as they took a hold of the fey woman and guided her into it, then stepped away and slammed the door shut as if it would burn them. The etchings shimmered orange, then blue, then cooled down once more into the grey iron of the bars.

"I'll take her to the capital. Search the surroundings forest, see what you can find." With that, he jumped into the passenger compartment and bid the coachman to get moving.

The carriage lurched. Gareth would be able to see the woman through the bars separating them and she him. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, and sought her eyes. There was no malice there, just a smug satisfaction and a glint of distrust. Fey magic was... different. More subtle. Attuned to nature in was that many others were not. He was curious as to what she could offer-- what could be taken.

"You were working as a healer, weren't you? What are your gifts?"
 




Melina

"So saving a life and offering my services as a healer is considered mischief now? My, my... you humans do have an odd understanding of the word." Her eyebrow raised with her comment, words dry and lacking the humour that she probably would have felt if it were any other situation.

However, before she could say more, Melina went still at the sight of the carriage. What a contraption it was. It was easy to see that the cage that adorned the vehicle was meant for her, and therefore enchanted. As for the bars, that caused a glimmer of fear to appear in her eye, instinctively a foot stepping backward. Not because she didn't enjoy the notion of being locked up in a cage, no, that didn't bother her half as much as the fact that that cage was made of iron.

Her face paled once inside, eyes darting around anxiously. There wasn't much room for movement, and Melina knew it would be difficult for her to lower herself down to at least sit for the journey, with her hands being bound behind her back. At least her sleeves were pulled down over the skin of her arms. The only areas she had to worry about were her hands, neck and face. Because iron burned. If she were to touch any part of that cell, the imprint would last for weeks on the area it connected with. First as an angry, searing red mark before it would dull into grey, as a reminder of the iron itself. Weeks it would take, perhaps even months, for the new skin to grow and settle.

And that was what worried her. If she couldn't sit, and couldn't stabilise herself, she feared the rocking and bouncing of the carriage. However she couldn't let that anxiety show any more than it already had done. Not in front of the human that now perched in front of her cell.

That being said, Melina took a deep breath and leaned her clothed side into one of the bars, grimacing at the warmth that instantly glowed against her skin just through the sleeve of her dress alone. It was a promise of what could happen, should bare skin touch it, and immediately she was uncomfortable. So she made quick work of sitting down, hands cupping to avoid any iron on the floor.

Her head turned to rub her cheek into her shoulder, the dried mud making the skin tight and itchy, but the movements stopped at his question. Blue eyes raised to meet his, amusement sparking in them in contrast to what she could see in his.

"Why? In need of a tonic?" She drawled, obviously uncaring as to if she gave him the information he sought after. To her, the result would be the same - either death or enslavement. Melina then leaned forward herself, "Release me from these binds and I'll show you what gifts I have."
 
"Yes, I suppose humans do have an odd way of doing things... But one can never be sure."

The carriage struggled along, old mechanisms enchanted for resilience wearing down under the presence of unfamiliar magics-- each new creature they brought came closer to escaping imprisonment, but it was all a ploy. A method with which to put their catches at ease. If they thought they could escape, sometimes they let loose more information than they otherwise would have. Gareth just had to wait.

"I thought fey wove tricks into their words." Gareth sat back, arms loose and hands resting in his lap. "That attempt wasn't bad, just disappointing."

If she thought she could actually convince him, she was poorly mistaken. It was amusing nonetheless.

"I'll see for myself what your powers are," he said quietly, then smiled. "You'll be happy to know it's not me you should hope to impress. In fact, you're welcome to get whatever insults you have out of your system before we meet with my father-- he will not take so kindly to it. I'm a little more forgiving."

Perhaps it was out of some latent desire to see one of these beings, both majestic and dangerous, lose composure and prove themselves no better than the men who imprisoned them. The idea that they were little more than creatures to be utilized never sat right, so the evidence, right before his very eyes, that they were would soothe him some. His conscience warned against it and, indeed, his father would be displeased, but he he provoked all the same.

"You must have family, right? If not with you, then maybe you'll see them at the capital." There were no fey at the capital. She was the first, and only one, to survive capture. It made her an oddity, a danger. A curiosity. The lies came easily. "Do fey tire easily? I've read that iron," he rapped his knuckles against the bars, "makes for a fine cage. It saps and weakens and... burns, from what I remember. You'll have a nice one below the castle. Much larger, softer. I don't think you'll mind it too much."

The coachman alerted him that they would be arriving within a half hour, so Gareth folded his arms over his chest and let his mind water, eyes locked on the fey woman before him. Outside the window, the high peaks of the castle rose over the sloping hills of his birthplace, the sun a shining beacon overhead that sent beams of sunlight piercing through the slats over the carriage's windows.

"You knew that girl," he began slowly, turning back to look at her. His eyes squinted as they adjusted once more. "What were you doing with her? Teaching her? Tricking her father?"
 




Melina

Her muscles tensed at the question regarding her family, the words obviously having hit a nerve. While she may have lied about how her parents died, the truth still remained - they were dead. Not because of influenza, but due to Findara. They had been murdered when Melina was twenty, and she still blamed herself for their death. She had been away at a village just on the boarder of Pendilor's territory, selling some wares and trying to scrape together enough coins to purchase a fresh loaf of bread. Upon her return, she had found the door kicked in, barely clinging to the last hinge. The small cottage had been destroyed: pillows ripped to reveal feathers, blankets torn and scratched, and her parents dead on the floor, the wall in which they had been executed against holding splatters of their blood.

Melina averted her gaze, lest the pain in her eyes betray her to her true emotion. The fey woman chewed on the inside of her cheek, fingers gently flexing behind her back as she attempted to keep control of the grief and rage and sadness that had been stirred up within her.

"Why would I tell you anything that would help you keep me prisoner for any longer than I would like?" She asked of him, eyes finally raising to look at him again. "Why would I care if you're more forgiving than your father? Or what he would or wouldn't take kindly to? Quite frankly, hunter, it doesn't-- wait. Father? Castle? Why on earth are you taking me to the castle? I thought you hunters had your own place to torture us innocents."

However she forgot her own question to him as he brought up Winnie, the fierce furrow to her brow slowly melting and eyes softening at the mention of the little girl.

She looked away briefly, but after a few seconds forced herself to meet his gaze again. "I wasn't doing either of those things. She had been ill... a weakness of some kind. A cough, she had shortness of breath, this redness on her skin that was... it grew from the centre of her chest and outwards... she was wasting away. Her father couldn't afford a tonic, so I gave him one for free. I'd known them for a few months before," she smiled a little at the memory of meeting Winnie, how she had shared half a strawberry tart with the girl, "That's all it was."

Pulling herself away from those memories, she blinked and the frown returned as she scoffed lightly, "No point in convincing you of that though, I suppose. Everything I did, for all those people, all the lives I'd helped... what they know now, what you've probably told them... they'll forget. They'll believe you. I'm a trickster, I'm a liar, I'm dangerous. Right?"
 
Gareth rubbed a hand along his jaw where an ache was taking hold. "You're not being tortured." Whoever was responsible for that claim, he'd really like to know. "You're working for my father. That's all."

She wasn't wrong about the villagers. Their hate would melt into indifference before they inevitably forgot the woman entirely. Commonfolk had livelihoods to worry about, livelihoods that didn't involve mystical beings in any form, especially those prone to the troublemaking and foul trickery fey were often drawn to.

This particular fey could try to trick her way out of confinement and responsibility all she liked, it mattered nothing to Gareth. He'd seen the lies first hand. He knew what to look out for.

The heavy gate in front of them creaked open after a quick bout of back-and-forth between the guard and the coachman. Then they pulled forward again, smoother now that the road was paved in fine cobblestone. The road wound through the city quite elegantly, taking them on a rather leisurely trip up the sloping hill toward the castle where the city grew denser and the road narrowing, forcing the carriage to slow.

"No point in convincing anyone of anything, I suppose," he said with a cheeky smile. "Maybe it won't be so bad. They'll move on with their lives and you won't even cross their mind. I think I'd even prefer that."

To be forgotten. Now wouldn't that be nice?

"Here we are."

The castle loomed high above them with its towering spires arranged in such a way that it resembled a crown. The courtyard beyond its heavy walls was mostly bare save for the carriages passing through. Men garbed in black armor greeted them and poked their spears through the bars of the cage, though never came close enough to harm the woman inside. These were not hunters-- this was none of their business, and so Gareth was quick to shoo them away and call in his father's hunters.

Hunters gathered on either side of the cage with iron cuffs. One worked the door open, while the other prepared to once again restrain the fey properly.


"Try not to fight them," Gareth said. "My father thinks you're valuable, meaning they won't hurt you unless you hurt them."
 




Melina

If it weren't for the fact that she was contained within a set of iron bars, and knew she was literally on the road to enslavement, Melina may have actually appreciated and been in awe of the large walls, heavy gates and the new and unfamiliar city she had been brought to. She took her attention away from the human in front of her to survey her new surroundings, eyes widening now and again, eyebrows raising at the grandeur of it all.

She looked up, over her captors head as the hill sloped up to reveal the castle, lips parting slightly at the sight of it. She awkwardly pushed herself up onto her knees, still careful to not touch anything and cautious to keep her balance with her hands still bound behind her back.

However the beauty of the architecture was ruined once they entered the courtyard and Melina found her gaze settling on the black-garbed, steel-wielding men that greeted them on the other side. Instinctively, Melina forced herself to her feet and attempted to take a step back, only for a bar of iron to sear across the palm of her right hand. The young fey woman cried out, jolting forward again and twisting her head in an attempt to see the wound that now burned hotly on her skin. Quickly she closed the palm, wincing at the pain it caused and squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that had formed rapidly due to it.

Blinking the tears away once she had composed herself, Melina was troubled to find that during the time she took to calm herself, spears had been poked through toward her. She turned and twisted to see just where the weapons stopped, eyes wide once more but this time in fear rather than appreciation. She didn't see the human, who had been with her on the journey, gesture for the guards to go away nor did she see him wave in the hunters. Her relief at the lack of spears was short lived as her eyes settled on the iron cuffs.

Melina took another step back, this time careful not to burn herself, as her eyes lingered on the restraints. At the human's words, her body began to tremble slightly out of a mixture of fear and anger.

"They'll hurt me the moment those cuffs are on my wrists." She retorted, backing herself cautiously into one of the corners of the cage despite the open door at the other end. There were a lot of hunters, and the enchanted binds on her wrists would keep her from using her magic. The gate that allowed them access was once more shut.

There was nowhere for her to go.

"You know that. You said so yourself. If-- If I'm so valuable, your father would know better." She wondered who his father was. It felt like it was a ridiculous possibility that she had been speaking to the Prince of Pendolir for the entire coach journey, so was his father the Head of the Hunters? "Those-- those'll burn me. And undoubtedly in the-- conditions you'll keep me in, they will become infected. What am I to do then? Simply die? Great lot of value I will be if-- if-- if I'm dead in the ground."
 
Gareth took her words into consideration, glancing between the cuffs and the fey woman now back into a corner. There was no reason to... damage her any further than she'd already been, he realized. He stepped forward to stop the hunters.

"Steel, not iron," he said, pushing the hunter's hand down.

The hunter paused. "Of course, ser. Hold."

A new pair of cuffs was brought forward, engraved shallowly with the same runes. They clasped them on over her forearms and pulled her, rather gently, out of the carriage. They must have been ordered to; his father was getting desperate, and causing undue injury wouldn't serve in the long run if he wanted results.

"And her," he glanced at the fey, "accommodations?"

"She'll be wanting for space, but it's nice and private. More or less."

"My father's been going through them quickly."

With a shrug, the hunter and his companions guided the fey woman toward a gated doorway leading down into a dark, open room. A central pillar was ringed with dim candles, casting shadows across the stone and leaving the cells lining the walls in darkness. Most were empty save for a few on the right, but it was difficult to tell who now resided there.

On the left, only the cell on the far left, against the wall, was occupied, containing an elvish man with one arm dangling through the bars, a manic grin on his face.

"Oooh, is she the new one? Pretty thing. She talks, yeah?" The elf pressed his face against the bars. "Gets so quiet around here, I was gettin' lonely!"

"Don't you go harassing her, elf," one of the hunters growled, striking the bars with the side of his spear.

"So grumpy."

Gareth wisely ignored them. True fey could be troublemakers, certainly, but none were quite so gifted as the elves. This one, Luin if he remembered correctly, was as arrogant as he was loud, not nearly as charming as most of his kin, and completely devoid of fear. He did his job, though. They asked of him and he delivered without a fight and without question. Whether he cared about his imprisonment at all was a question Gareth knew he would never get answered.

"You'll be on the other end," Gareth said to the fey, unlocking the door to the small cell. A relatively empty enclosure greeted them, with little more than a cot, a bucket, and a table. "Just until we find a better place to keep you. My father... he'll want to keep you close." He stepped aside so the hunter could guide her in. "A few nights, that's all. Any longer and Luin gets jealous."

"I quite like my lonely little row!" the elf confirmed with a manic cackle. "Don't you worry, girl. I can do all the talking if you'd like."
 




Melina

The fey woman knew there was no point in fighting the hunters that pulled her, albeit gently, from the cage in the carriage and escorted her into the castle. Her mind was running rampant, eyes darting around and stomach tightening at the darkness that began to shroud them as they walked. She was never one for the dark, or the damp, for that matter, and it now seemed she would be exposed to both of those things for as long as the humans kept her alive. She knew she ought to not peer too deeply into the other cells, knowing she probably wouldn't like what she saw there, but it didn't matter, since the shadows kept whoever occupied them well hidden anyway.

The hand that burned against the iron continued to throb, and she wondered just how long it would take for the injury to become infected in the quarters she now found herself in. It would be a curious race, Melina thought, to see what would kill her first - the infection or the humans. But then again she supposed it would always be the humans since she doubted they would allow her the necessary ingredients to create a poultice for the burn.

"Elf?" She then repeated, slightly in disbelief as she turned her head awkwardly in an attempt to look over her shoulder to the creature in question as she was escorted into her own cell, blinking a few times.

It had been a long while since anyone had seen magical or mythical creatures, even those themselves who fell in to that category. Melina rarely saw her own kind, let alone those of other species. So to hear they had an elf behind bars here... it was rather bewildering.

Her eyes briefly washed over the abysmal living conditions she was now faced with before she turned back to the hunter who had been with her for the entire journey. "Who is your father?" She finally asked, still unable to figure it out, "And why would he want to keep any of us close? I'd thought we'd be sent straight out to do your fighting for you."

Melina then paused before bouncing her hands up and down behind her back, "Will you finally take these off me? Or at least let me have them in front of me - sleeping'll be a pain in the neck otherwise." She asked next, ignoring the loud elf with a muscle jumping in her jaw: if that creature was going to remain as obnoxious as he was currently... it was surely going to be a long night.
 
"My father?" Gareth pointed straight up. "He's several floors up. The most highly respected man in the kingdom. Or, that's what I'm told."

He waved the hunters forward. One of them released the cuffs, then shut the cell door immediately after. The cuffs hissed when they were tucked away, much to Luin's apparent delight. Gareth heard his stifled giggles from across the room. The elf was slowly losing his sanity, and would surely perish within the next few years. Most did.

Gareth shook his head. "No, you're not here to fight a war. You have... other attributes my father is interested in."

A skilled healer was desperately needed. She didn't look like she could stand up in a fight, anyway. They had better beasts for the job, ones with more... aggressive characteristics. Fey hardly made for good soldiers, and she least of all.

"He'll be visiting you soon," he said, testing the cell door with a tug. "Whenever he finishes up his current business. Cooperation is your best bet at getting a good deal out of this, trust me. Father's good at making deals."

"I'll set up a watch schedule, sir."

Gareth gave the hunter a curt nod. "Anyways... Meals are delivered at sunrise and sunset. You're valuable, keep that in mind. We're not here to kill you or send you to war."

Not when his mother was in such dire need. Some of their people in the villages to the north were faring poorly as well, but not to the same wasting sickness as his mother. Either way, a fey was a valuable asset where the cursed elf was not. The rest of their menagerie were well suited to the war effort and while the discoveries were a stroke of luck, none of them quite fit their immediate needs. But a fey, a healer at that, was the most valuable of all. No doubt a nicer enclosure would be put together to keep her close.

He backed away toward the entrance as the elf cackled obnoxiously, the wavering candlelight painting eerie shadows on the walls. Did they have nightmares, these creatures? Could they feel the same fear humanity did?

"Few days, maybe less. Just wait."

With that, he was on his way up toward the castle, while two of the hunters stayed behind, their blank masks locked on the fey woman to await the night. He'd be back in the morning.

"In for a long, long night, fairy girl," Luin said, slinking back toward the darkness of his cell.
 




Melina

So he was the Prince.

But what Melina couldn't understand was why the Prince of Pendilor was running around with hunters and getting involved with the search and capture of mythological and magical creatures and beings. Surely he had better things to do, more important things. Like learning how to run and control a kingdom. How did his father not keep him close by as the heir to the throne? Was there no concern for if he was killed during one of his little adventures?

Once the cuffs were removed, Melina rubbed tentatively at her wrists but decided to keep her air magic contained. What would she even be able to do down in the castle dungeons where the air was still and stagnant? Besides, she wouldn't want them to get any ideas about sending her out onto the battlefield, even if what he said was true and they wanted to keep her closer to home, she would never trust a human. Especially not one that turned out to be the Prince.

"I'll believe that when I see it." She kept her eyes on him, distrust and disdain clear within her eyes as he began to move away, "As for waiting, what else am I going to do?" She called after him, moving to the corner of her cell but not daring to touch the iron bars. The injury she caused herself flaring in memory of what happened earlier.

Her eyes snapped to the elf, nose wrinkling at the creature as she held the injured hand to her chest while the other reached up to tuck hair behind pointed ears. No point in hiding that feature anymore.

"Shut it, elf. Lest I decide to choke the air out of you." She muttered, although she didn't mean the threat. Well, actually, that depended on how annoying he got.

Turning her back on him, Melina settled herself onto the cot with a heaved sigh. Her eyes stared upwards, injured hand cradled to her chest with the good one as she allowed her mind to wander. Eventually her eyes closed, and she wondered just how long she could sleep for before even that got boring.
 
Luin's voice hardened. "Do it. I don't think you can, can you? Choke me, burn me, tear me to pieces. Whatever I am in the end, it must be better than what I am now."

"Shut it," one guard snapped, slamming the back of his gauntlet into the bars. The two of them dimmed the candles so that only the fading sunlight shining through the doorway lit the chamber. Then they took up positions by the wall and waited, trading jokes between each other until the prison grew dark and cold. Even Luin, rattling something against the cage, eventually quieted down completely.

-

Gareth liked to keep to a meticulously crafted schedule. The first half of his day was rushed, as he'd eaten very little since the fey was brought in, excitement keeping him well and thoroughly distracted from his other duties. At noon, he visited his mother as scheduled, paid a visit to the stables to apologize to the horse he'd abandoned in the village, sent the hunters north to scope out the scattered settlements, and near the end of the day, when the sun was still fairly high in the sky and casting thin rays of light across the courtyard, he was pulled aside by his father.

"You said she was a healer," his father said. His hand was heavy on Gareth's shoulder. "Take me to her."

"Are you not going to wait a day, as originally intended?"

The man sighed. "No. However, the war effort is going well enough that I have some time to myself." In a rare moment of weakness, the man looked away, eyes locked on the distant window high above them. "Your mother hasn't woken since you left her this afternoon. Take me to the fey, let me see her for myself. Then I will decide if she is as valuable as you claim."

Gareth dipped his head. "Yes, father. This way."

His father was a tall man, towering over even Gareth when in public. Here, he wore fine blue robes with golden filigree stitched into the cuffs and over the forearms. A collar of brown fur was draped over his shoulders. Even without the jeweled crown of his station, his father had a royal air about him, something Gareth had never quite mastered. His strides were longer but more controlled, his head held high and his expression disinterested.

And Gareth, slim and slippery and so unlike the raw strength of his father, was, perhaps, a bit of a disappointment. His father never said such a thing, but there was always reason to suspect.

The guard closed the gate behind them and they began their descent into the dungeon. The candles were lit again, and the two guardsmen placed here greeted them with curt bows.

"Down there. Hard to say for sure if she's even awake. Fey do as they please, as you well know."

"Do they, now?" The king approached the cage a good distance away, hands folded behind his back. "She is hardly as impressive as you implied..."
 
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Melina

Melina was sat on the edge of the cot when the doors to the dungeon opened. She didn't bother looking up, however, suspecting it was just another poor creature being dragged down into the dark, stagnant air that lingered within the cells. Her fingers quietly traced over a childhood scar on her left hand while her eyes stared straight ahead.

It had been a restless few hours for the fey woman, who wasn't entirely sure what would happen to her now. The hunter who had brought her in had said his father would want to look her over, like some sort of horse, she felt. Check the hooves and the teeth. See if she was of any worth. The thought was bitter and left a sour taste on her tongue. The nerve of these humans was astounding.

It annoyed her further that she was still in the same muddied dress from the morning. She would have given anything to change from the muslin that had now become stiff with the wet dirt that had now dried. She only had to hope that any kind of animal manure wasn't an added element. It hadn't started to stink yet, in the warm air of the dungeons, so she was optimistic that it was only mud. However, it was still a frustration for her, especially with some of it still dried on the one side of her face, making the skin tight and itchy. Some cool blonde strands had also found themselves stained by it, but there wasn't much she could to rectify the situation.

She had kept quiet since the elf had left her alone and the guards demanded their silence. Besides, who was there to talk to? She wasn't sure what other creatures were in the cells and she doubted they would even want to strike up a conversation.

As voices neared, and she heard the word 'fey', Melina blinked herself out of her thoughts and lifted her head. Although fingers still grazed over the scar on her hand.

Eyes blinked again at the sight of the broad, well-dressed older man, accompanied by the hunter from before. While no jewel or crown adorned him, it was easy for Melina to recognise the King of Pendilor. Her gaze darted between the two men, slowly pushing herself to her feet and taking a few steps to stand near the edge of the cell.

"If I knew I was here to impress I would have worn one of my better dresses." Melina responded, already bristling at the fact she was being spoken about as if she wasn't there. She didn't offer a curtsy as she knew was probably expected. But this man wasn't her King, and with what he was doing, he didn't deserve her respect.

"Perhaps I find you as equally unimpressive."
 
The king was unmoved, but Gareth began to fidget nervously. His father's temper was well known as a cold, quiet thing, a frigid anger no one saw coming but was just as deadly as any sword. And as Gareth watched his father's face, he caught the faintest twitch of a brow and the tensing of his jaw, indicating just what kind of anger was simmering under the man's skin.

"And far too bold," the king said dismissively. "But she'll do. You did well in bringing her to me-- well done."

Gareth beamed. He stood a little straighter under the praise.

"I'll have the servants prepare a room. Guard rotations will need to be adjusted." He looked at Gareth pointedly. "I assume you can handle that?"

"I can."

"Good. As for our friend here..." He ran a hand through his finely combed beard, coming closer to the bars. "You're being given a prestigious position few humans would ever turn down. Be thankful we didn't throw you to the war effort, as so many of your kin have been."

Gareth stepped in quickly. "I'm sure she does, father. If we're--"

The king held up a hand. "You understand what will befall you should you try anything, don't you?"

"Father, she--"

"Of what happens to creatures like yourself when they disobey?"

It dawned on Gareth then that his father wasn't making threats to keep her in line, but for their own safety and the safety of his mother. His mother, who was ailing now and closer to death than she's ever been. Gareth hadn't seen his father this desperate, though the man hid it well behind his titles and regal air.

But Gareth always knew.

"First a room," the man said at last. "Then we'll see if she meets expectations."

Gareth lowered his gaze as his father turned on his heel without another word, his personal guard waiting just outside. When he was gone, Gareth turned to the fey, expression carefully neutral.

"I'd take care what you say around him. My father can sometimes be... harsh."
 
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