Thegoodfellow - The Goodfellow

wadecalhoun​:

          “Bit of a gut punch,” he offers Robin a sour expression for if she’s too paint him as a complete evildoer, the Archer is not about to exhaust himself fighting against such imagery. He’d thrived off of fear and anger, it led him to this pivotal moment of their friendship where now they were mere strangers once more, torn apart by violence spurred by hatred and confusion. “You must think I’m doin’ way more than working for them. I don’t have any clearance into those labs,” it’s a half-whisper considering she’s jumping right in when they’re on the line for coffee, but he’ll settle for duking it out with her as he waited.

“You know, that does it make me feel a bit better for trusting you for so long,” she muses thoughtfully as she settles by his side to wait for the line to move. It is almost amusing to hear him struggle to half-whisper, not realizing that she had thrown a privacy spell around the two as soon as she had stepped closer. Robin wasn’t careless, for fuck’s sake. She knew the meaning of subtlety, but she also was petty and vindictive, and worrying Wade just a little bit was far too amusing for her right now. “The fact that you do have morals, I mean. Makes it easier to believe you are just incapable to withstanding peer pressure, and not willingly malicious,” she comments carelessly before rising a brow. “The labs are not the only suspect thing of the whole organization and you know it.”

"So you have met often," Robin confirms, a spark of delight on her carefully light tone as she bumps her shoulder against Farenduil. As much as she truly does enjoy gossiping, her attempt to tease the former fey lays more on her desire to bring a smile or a blush upon his cheeks, anything to distract him from the reality in which his mother sacrificed herself for the common good. What Titania had done is commendable, but Robin worries that with Farenduil's already set tendency for melancholy, the grief would not leave him. He might be human now, but he grew up as a fey, and she is sure the long lasting melancholy he is used to would kill him in his fragile shell. "But you have not ventured outside? That cannot do. We must do some recon and find good outing spots, then. The Saturnalia market, for example, sounds fantastic."

"I didn't know that, actually." It's very casual, almost too casual, because he knows what she's getting at and it's something he hasn't really put too much thought towards. Just because he'd made peace with Titania passing didn't mean it didn't hurt, but with all of that swept away, confined to the house, he was left with....Life is quite strange. Though he is touched that many have made a point to keep him in their lives, even if Robin is grilling him on the elephant in the room. "We usually just have coffee at my place. I still haven't gotten out much."

floratitus​:

The security that surrounded Mercuralia was only the beginning of the police state they were about to become submerged in, Flora desired public safety for those innocents to not fear that they would be plucked off the streets and hauled away into a van. She remembered her time serving as a Marshal on the Senate and somewhere along the lines, it had been determined that it was the Eye who had been kidnapping supernaturals only to have it brushed underneath the rug again. She wouldn’t forget the body that she found floating down the Tiber river with bites from its own vampiric kind littering its body, it had been killed by the Leech but the Leech had been under the control of the Eye at the time. “I will do what I can to help you, he’s chosen his side and I won’t allow any more Lycans to suffer at the hands of the Eye.”

...

“Splendid. I will work on this misdirection on my part too, but please do be subtle. Wade might not be the sharpest tool in the box but he is not an idiot either.” At least not most of the time, and she cannot risk such a fruitful connection into the Eye to be alerted that he is being used. The hunter had made his bed and then believed a mere apology would be enough to brush it all aside when he would never forgive the creature that had destroyed his family. “He has to believe that he has been forgiven, so that he doesn’t suspect anything we do. For that, if you currently have a good relationship with him, you might need to maintain it. Can you do that? Can you lie to him?”

wardercloud​:

Drinking. That had been their safe haven for as long as it had been since Theneras was lost to them. They couldn’t find it in themself to do anything else. If Cloud chose to let all of those emotions funnel through, then the floodgates would open and it would be more than just that leaving their system. The summer fey had been nursing a bottle of…something to their chest when they heard Robin’s voice. They had been standing there watching the way things moved around them. There was a sword of flames within their hand that they had not put away. Cloud had always been on the defensive. They had always been in a state of readiness their entire life. It was there more now than ever before. Even as the fall chancellor came upon them, they almost held it out towards her, but they resisted the urge. “I’m fine.” That was what they kept telling themself. They were fine. It had become so ingrained in their head that even saying it was not a lie. Anyone could tell that it wasn’t the case, but they could believe Cloud’s words. “I haven’t had it worse than anyone else. I won’t make this about me.” Their eyes hadn’t met hers yet until they stopped speaking. Even seeing her face caused them to drink from the bottle in their grasp.

...

“Ah, shit,” she sighs, allowing herself to fall down to the ground, crossing her legs and patting the sand next to her in an invitation to sit down. Cloud wasn’t lying, they could not lie, and yet, there is no denying that everything is not as it appears. With a hum, she summons a bottle of feywine from her own reserves and opens the cork, bringing the bottle to her lips and taking a long sip, trying to think on how to approach the conversation. Perhaps it’s true, that Cloud hasn’t had it worse than anyone else, but emotions won’t care about that. Not when their wardee had done as much as Theneras had did and they had lost them, not when their duty had been to protect Theneras and they had failed, in the worst way imaginable. “And if I ask you to? You are my friend and I want to hear how you have been coping, if you want to talk,” she admits quietly. “And if not, can I keep you company? I am anything but fine, and I could use it.”

chancellorxlaer​:

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

....

There is a weight that comes with being the survivor of a tragedy, to bear witness to your world falling apart from the seams even as you attempt to keep it together. Robin is too far to stop the Drow Queen, too far to do anything but watch as the Court’s suffer yet another blow, one she does not know how they will recover from. Titania, their home, Fen’harel, Aurora and now Meryasek? It has been blow after blow, no break in between. It’s been a long arduous year, a year full of grief and loss, and they seem to keep losing no matter what they attempt. It is far too much grief, far too much misery, bottled and kept inside for too long for her to be able to keep a hold of it any longer. The vessel on her chest, the one where she keeps all her worries and grief and empathy, shatters under the pressure of seeing the corpse of yet another friend, of another loved one, before her. The first crack had appeared in Halloween, deepened further by Wade’s betrayal, but this, for Hyrsam to ensure that his King’s funeral would also becomes Meryasek’s? Over and over again, she had considered peace, had considered unity between species as a solution to their current conflicts.

No more.

The world had turned their back to the fey, it’s only fair they do the same. Anger bypasses grief, her song joining Laer’s in order to keep the pretense of an united front before their people and their enemies alike. Flames gather around them, the fire preventing anyone but the chancellor’s from reaching their fallen King. As she steps closer, Robin allows herself a brief moment to grieve for who they had lost, to grieve for her friend, gone where they could not follow after doing his all to protect their people. He had risen beyond any of the expectations placed on him, and his death was yet another injustice struck against the fey.

Alas, death takes kings and paupers alike.

Eyes snapping open, Robin let’s out a whistle, high and sharp, and sends her own changeling to reinforce the borders as a precaution. Zahrya will do his duty, but any help will be a kindness for the Spring Chancellor.

“Do not stand around, we cannot afford to remain frozen,” Robin snaps out, voice sharp and cutting through the grief beginning to overwhelm the court. “Gather the children, ensure they are kept safe, place the death together and notify next of kin. Now.”

Eyes going back to Zahrya, she bites her lip and tentatively places her hand upon his shoulder in comfort. There had been a tension between the two since that conversation near the pond, but there cannot be infighting if they want to survive, weakened as they are. “Not now Zahrya,” she offers, voice soft yet kind. “We will have our time for grieve later, but now? Now we must ensure that Meryasek’s work does not go to waste.”

zahryaofspring​:

who?: any bitches (eladrin or whatever) still alive i can’t keep track anymore where?: their hellhole (the forest) right on top of that corpse I’m done

✿*° ‘° ･

He was there, he was right there screaming for his King, but he was helpless. Too tired to move or act fast enough, it was his heartache that twisted the trees to strike on his behalf. But even they were too slow, spearing wispy shadows instead of his greatest foes. He caught his King’s body before it could hit the ground, shakily singing every song of Spring he could think of. He smashed a blood fruit into the cavernous hole of his chest, pumped ichor straight from his flowers until they withered, and wailed his useless tunes in every key he knew. Nothing worked, his King was gone, and once again he was powerless to make anything better.

“Do something! He can’t be gone. Why didn’t you … do something! Worthless cowards. Fools and cowards I hate you! I need him. We need him…” He directs his words at the fractured remnants of the eladrin race, all those who bore witness as he feels and wavers between all five stages of grief at once. Eventually, all he can do is sob, his thunderous pain reverberating throughout the forest while the Black Wind’s cruel laughter reverberates in his skull.

-

In an effort to preserve what remained of the King’s dignity, Laer sung a song while the rest of the kingdom looked on. Lifted the body away from Zahrya as it was bandaged and glamoured so the ichor that still spilled from Mery’s body would not stain through. “Get up, Zahrya.” Laer said as curtly as he could manage. Loss defined them at every turn. Their Queen, their home, and now the heir that had risen so sharply in such a short amount of time. 

“Sometimes it feels like the Gods are laughing at us,” Laer whispered, though through a warm breeze his voice was carried across the company and the crowd. Some of their greatest defenders were gone while the city had been thrown into hedonistic, debaucherous turmoil. Laer felt grief, hatred, and anguish wrapped into one as his patience for this realm ended entirely. The mortals and the drow, these long standing feuds that had chipped away at them relentlessly. “King Meryasek is dead,” the chancellor announced as he roughly hauled Zahrya to his feet, “but your chancellorship remains, reinforce the boundaries, expel any intruders.” He looked towards the bandaged body of the King he’d watched rise from toddler to manhood, the bright and inquisitive mind that had held so much promise. 

Another fey life taken, another drow for Ayi’ig’s army. He looked away from the body because he couldn’t stare at it any longer. 

“Count the dead, we bury them within the week.” The chancellors would convene and retribution would be swift. 

yaviefey​:

-

“You can ask.” Yavie offered, for the first time since their conversation had started he offered a smile that was light, but brief. Their experiences obviously weren’t universal and though they came from the same season it was easier to count their fewer similarities than their vast differences. “But he’s a criminal, someone I should probably avoid anyways.” He took a sip from his drink, would that it was so easy to simply get the man out of his head. “I don’t think people would approve.”

...

“In that case, who is the fool that has captured your affections?” Her curiosity wins, once given permission, and she can’t get herself to take back the question because truly, she wants to know. Even more after Yavie continues speaking, the curiosity coursing through her veins as she speaks, head tilting in consideration as she tries to think on possible men that match that description. “A criminal? Surely, there must be something worthy on this man if you fell in love with him, even if it was only with the idea of him.”

vincenzodives​:

It had not been long since he had met his unfortunate demise. The night had been burned into his brain and it playing like a movie on the back of his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. There was still nothing that gave him any inkling as to who it could have been. All he could truly remember was the lycan’s teeth digging into his flesh. It took two seconds for him to realize that he was going to die. Less than that to realize he was going to die while he was high. It was disappointing, but not at all surprising. Vincenzo could only think about how his mother would have felt. How he had proven her right to stay away from this place. But then August had brought him back. Being around people was already a chore. Now it was even more of that. It seemed like their magic was calling to him. Yet, he had absolutely none of his own. He hated it. What was he to do when he had lived most of his life with magic and now he was without it? There was so much going through his head, he couldn’t even focus on the gelato in front of him. He had gotten it, but it didn’t even look appealing to him. 

There was a small commotion that he barely got to look up to see before he had a presence in front of him. The magic was strong, but all he could think about was how much he wanted it. And he wasn’t sure if that was meant as a witch or as a ghoul. The face that was behind the magic was definitely a pleasant sight to see though. Vinny didn’t have many friends, but he was lucky to have the ones that he did. August most of all who had actually cared enough about him to bring him back. When was the last time he had seen Robin though. It seemed like forever, but he was sure it hadn’t been that long. Time was something of a strange concept to him now though. He was dead. Why would it matter what fucking day it was? The spoon dropped back into the gelato in front of him as he scanned her face. It was…good to see certain people. Yet, he still didn’t know what to say to her. 

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to help.” His eyes darted to any prying eyes and anyone’s ears perking up. This was nobody’s business but his own and whoever he decided to tell. Once he deemed the air clear for him to speak, he looked back at her, his eyes meeting hers. “I died.”

...

A thousand and one thoughts flit through her head at the whispered confession, the words hitting her harder than she had expected. Friends and lovers alike, she had known of his mortality, had expected to have to mourn him in a century like she had done with so many of those she had gifted with her heart and her trust. It’s still a blow to know it happened sooner than she had hoped, a blow to know he had died and come back and she hadn’t known. That he had been alone, on his first days as a ghoul and she had not helped. And make no mistake, she now knows he is a ghoul. Knows it for there is only one thing he can be if he has been brought back. There is a hundred and one questions hanging over them, but at the end, Robin is kind. She is not going to push when it is clearly not what he needs. She wants to know the truth, wants to know who brought him back, what he wants to do, if he had been buried once again to regain his humanity. She wants to know, but won’t ask, not now, not when the reality of his early demise so clearly weights upon him.

Robin doesn’t care about his new status as a Terror, does not fear it.

It’s Vinny.

A soft sigh leaves her as she sits on the chair across Vinny and settles her gelato on the table before them. There is a weight to his confession, something she can’t take away no matter how much she would wish for it. There is usually no coming back, once a mortal dies, no changing what has happened. He had been given a second chance, but with it, much had been lost. There is no words she can use, no empty platitudes that could be said. Carefully, gently, she reaches across the table, hands falling upon his shoulders and squeezing briefly, before they slide up to cradle his cheeks, thumbs brushing them reassuringly as she leans forward to rest her forehead against his in an attempt to provide comfort.

“I am here, whatever you need me, I am here.”

TATI GABRIELLE for Elite Daily

who? @wintersaurora where? moon gate, Audulë  notes: doing the randomize top songs thing and got super villain by stileto, silent child and kandyle page

"I think we are overdue some mimosas and sweets," she says as she offers the Lunar Chancellor her arm to escort her out of the Fey Forest and towards A Grazie a Brunch. She had contacted the dark elf in charge and managed to reserve them the perfect table for some gossip and snooping. Perhaps if she poked the other enough, she would admit about her apparent taste for members of the Dusk Court, current and past alike.