Aurora { 3 } - Blog Posts
"Now that is an understatement," Robin mentions with a snort, eyes falling away from the tower and upon Aurora. There is no denying that the magic surrounding her had changed drastically, that there is a difference on her bearing born both from that change and whatever she had faced in the Otherworld, but she can still see one of her oldest friends on her face. "Don't tell me the frost got your tongue? You are usually far wordier on these matters," she teases, before pausing. "If it is a matter of the Winter Court and not for my ears, I shall understand."
There is a pause, as Robin deliberates on Aurora's words, lips pressed together as she is considering her response. The matters of the Holt are not to be shared with outsiders, and speaking of the most unpleasant abilities the Fall provides— specifically if bolstered by the Holt's approval — should only be kept behind close doors, on a meeting with all the Chancellors so that she might not repeat herself.
"Certain cogs have been set in place, and the result is operating smoothly," she says with a simple shrug. "Any other information on that matter, is to be left to be discussing behind closed doors and in presence of the other Chancellors and the King."
"If you mean the change within me..." There were elves all over the Otherworld, all sorts. But the Lunar Elves had gone extinct, the last remnants of her ancestors swirling in song within the White Flame. Even Davhiera, elven in his own way and once fellow winter eladrin, felt different. There were many words for how she felt in her skin: proud that her ancestors had felt her worthy in any sense, thankful to be alive, curious to this newfound strength. But lonely and confused too. More conflicting emotions too odd and difficult to explain. "Strange," Aurora instead summarized.
She looked to Robin beside her. When once they were friends, even brief lovers, being more carefree juveniles felt like a lifetime ago. Fellow Chancellors couldn't be just friends, not with business and warcraft lingering over their heads at every given moment. "Autumn has come." As such, the Autumn fey would be at their strongest and essential to the fight, even more essential now because half of the mission had failed. While the tropes had brought back power, they hadn't any of the allies that they'd sorely needed to win. "How ready are we?"
wintersaurora:
❅
Aurora takes the glass, silently grateful to have something to occupy her hands and to have something to burn her throat. She takes a sip as the other speaks, hesitating only when Fen’harel was mentioned. Her eyes fell. As she took the glass away from her lips, her gaze finally returned to Robin. “Please… I’ve always counted on you to speak your mind. Everyone else is walking on eggshells around me and I-” She sighed. “I understand. But it’s very difficult to try to come back to myself when no one else is doing it.” She ground her teeth nervously, turning away, pacing very slowly. “If it’s any comfort for you, Robin, I don’t think you’re a failure of a replacement. You’ve held your Court together. You’ve managed to despite never being groomed to do it, despite perhaps the worst travesties we have endured as a people in… millennia.”
...
“If you want me to speak my mind, then you are going to have to accept my kindness and empathy, neither of which are a weakness, as brief as they are, because ignoring tragedy does not help, and you know this,” Robin says pointedly, the allusion towards her own brothers demise vague enough that most would miss. Not Aurora, though, not when they had known each other for so long and the other was aware of the reason why Robin had become involved with the hunt for the Eye in the first place. “I have managed yes, but managing is not enough when we are facing our current threats. I have to do better, be better, but I lack the training and the person who could have trained me is a traitor and no longer part of the Court. Whatever legacy there is for the Fall Chancellor is one that I have to learn without training.”
wintersaurora:
Sympathy and pity came to Aurora in droves, and if she’d had even half of the arrogant pride that she’d possessed only months before, it would have made her sick. Now she was too tired to care, too knowledgable of how easily it was to lose all of it - all of them. The last time something similar to this had happened to her, Aurora had spent so long cold and dead to then all but explode with vengeance towards Titania, spurred in that direction by Fen’harel and her own bubbling resentment and overwhelming grief. But she wouldn’t allow herself to make that mistake again. When her time to explode came, it would be in a rage directed rightfully to Ayi’ig. She could save it until then, let it fester in her chest as she went absently through the motions of surviving each day.
Robin’s appearance was reminiscent to her of Fen’harel, the other Autumn Chancellor that had come to her in concern for her well-being. How so much had changed. Aurora had been looking out at the Winter fey working on bringing down that ridiculous statue that Laer had encouraged them to put up. She’d probably have them store it in some cave. But now she turned her attention to Robin as she came up the steps and spoke. “Sure,” she replied softly. No joy but no annoyance either. It was inevitable that they spoke. “… Though I know you’re sorry for what happened and I appreciate any concern you might have, I would prefer not to dwell on my state right now. I promise you enough other people are caring.”
...
Aurora’s permission is all she needs to walk to the other’s side and set the basket delicately by her side, occupying her hands on opening the cork. The movement pulls slightly at the new scar that occupies her stomach, but not enough for her to show any sign of pain. It has been long enough that the scar is almost fully healed, long enough that it will soon enough be nothing but a reminder of humanity’s worst. A reminder that trusting humans is a foolish endeavor and to believe on her instincts rather than on her whims. A reminder that as a Chancellor, her own desires do not matter, she must destroy anyone who wants to harm her people before they can attempt to do so.
“You have no idea how much I wish I could use sarcasm the human way right now,” Robin offers flatly as she uncorks the cider and hums a melody to create two glasses, filling them up with it and offering one to Aurora. “Are we not friends? Are we not fellow Chancellors? Do I not have the right to be concerned? Or do you not consider my concern as truthful as you would want because you only see me as Fen’harel’s failure of a replacement, Aurora?” The last question is asked flatly. All she had wanted was to ensure that her friend was alright, and yes, she understands the distress Aurora has suffered is unspeakable, but she has always been confrontational and the sense of betrayal is too fresh, the thought of her weakness too heavy, for her not to default into her old instincts. She regrets the words as soon as they leave her lips, though, and she sighs, a hand raising to rub her eyes tiredly. “Apologies, everyone is on edge right now, including me, but I should not have said that.”
who? @wintersaurora
where? the winter’s mountains, outside aurora’s cabin
There is little than can be said in times of tragedy, little more that can be done when your friend has gone through the unimaginable. All she can do, when it comes down to it, is ensure Aurora knows she is not alone, despite the tepid water the Courts inhabit, now that they have been exiled from the Otherworld and have to live in a fraction of the space they had once done. Company is a helpful remedy to many an ailment, and company is something she thinks both of them might need, now more than ever. Holding a basket of spoils from the Autumn’s fields under her arm and a bottle of non-alcoholic apple cider on the other, she finds herself in front of Aurora’s cabin. Carefully, she knocks at the door, having made her presence known once she had first approached, but not wanting to cause any panic by her knock. She had enough background knowledge from the aftermath of torture, at least in the academic sense, that she has a vague idea of what the other is going through and she does not want to make her any more unsafe.
“Aurora? It’s Robin, I was wondering if you would like some company,” she offers, allowing space for the other to deny her if she wants to be alone.
