On cold wings she's coming [Cel/Open]

[Valencia]

She sweeps in like the chiffon she is wearing, her movements indistinguishable from the silky cloth in the breeze. There is a dark sturdiness to her though that is both vulnerable and regal. As she passes the cold columns of the great hall, she runs bronzed fingertips over the jade, her long lashes closing at the sensation of heated skin on textured marble.

Two minutes and sixty footfalls into the structure and Valencia is in love with the Unseelie Court. Every glittering sparkle seems like it is it made for her and she can't help the content hum the lifts from her throat, the notes echoing in the stone space and magnifying the sound to a small chorus. Her copper skin is washed with goosebumps as the raw power of this place begins to seep into her pores. She feels saturated with it, much like being in a sticky mist that's invisible to the eye. It's glorious and there is a manic sort of glee lighting her opaque eyes the further she goes.

Splashes of brightest red clash against the jade background and she gasps in happy surprise to find herself surrounded at every turn by roses in every size and shape. They are the definition of perfection and seduction and she can't help but feel a twinge of envy, wishing to be as they are. Valencia is as beautiful as the flowers, eerie and hypnotizing in her mystique - but she is not perfect. Not yet.

Bending at the waist, she leans down to cup a larger bloom in her palm, crooning to it gently as she buries her nose in the velvety petals. A hiss replaces her song however as a syringe-like thorn catches her across the cheekbone, bringing a stripe of blood to mar her flawless skin. She lifts a finger to the wound in curiosity, filling her pad with the crimson liquid and staring at it for a long moment as if she's never seen anything like it. Then a wicked smile creeps up her lips and she looks fondly down at the flower, sitting there looking so innocent. She gifts it with the blood on her finger, the droplets melting seamlessly into the rose's color. "Aren't you precocious," she coos to the blossom, stroking it tenderly one last time before moving on to the next flower, this one looking a bit less thorny then the last. Their smell arouses her and she sighs as the heady scent, mingled with the metallic smell of blood fill her lungs.

Yes, she has found a place to belong.

[King Cel]

”I would be careful if I were you. The taste of blood can stir them into frenzy faster than you think.” The voice echoed down the tunnel, the body seemingly trailing after the sounds as he walked, the magical illumination of the faux eclipsed moon casting a larger than life shadow down the path he walked. Though Cel was their master, even he had been on the biting end of the roses before. As the King it was his job to nourish the roses and though he did so with traitors and prisoners sometimes his blood as required to keep the roses of the Unseelie Court properly fed. The hunger in the roses was insatiable.

He was dressed in his finery. A dark blue suit with a light blue shirt buttoned half way beneath it. On his wrist he wore a golden bracelet and his footsteps clicked loudly with patent leather soles of the highest quality. His hair was slicked back and his face strategically covered in stubble. His eyes burned like a brand.

He licked his lips at the sight of the nimbus, a woman he had never seen before. Cel’s affinity for the women of his court was well known, a female newcomer was likely to have audience with the King before any other members of the court, the purest of blood taking precedence in almost all cases. Though this woman wasn’t sidhe she appeared to be the closest thing to it. She was one who had yet to have her innate powers awakened, or at least that it seemed that way. The King had brought many into power before; his most recent gift had been to Sygon, one of the recently appointed Denwyrs. For a brief second he wondered if this woman would be the next to have sidhe magic bestowed upon her by the king’s grace. Then, as if it were automatic, he bowed in a customary fashion, ”Welcome to the Unseelie Court, my lady.”

[Valencia]

Her pulse quickens as the sound of his voice travels up the back of her neck and she shivers with pleasure, not able to turn fast enough to fill her gaze of him.

"I eagerly anticipate observing such a spectacle, My Lord. From a safe distance, of course," she breathes to him, her eerie eyes widening a bit as she rakes him from toe to head. He is magnificent, as much as she'd hoped he'd be and she floats down into a lovely curtsy in return to his bow. Lithely she moves, almost skipping to his side, reaching out with a copper hand in attempt to lay fingers over his wrist, the one displaying the gold bracelet. She is involuntarily drawn to it, the shining metal looking so much more regal on his limb then it ever could on another.

It's intoxicating being so close and she cannot help but lean in, needing to be near enough to feel the body heat radiating from him, needing to absorb some of this powerful, this feeling. Oh, if she feels this way around him now, she is almost frightened to think about how intense the sensation will be when she comes into power. "Lady Valencia, your servant, my King. I was so hoping to meet you sooner then later," she murmurs, staring intensely at him from beneath dark lashes as she does all.

The adrenaline rush in her system makes her bold and she looks down again at his bejeweled wrist. "This is a beautiful piece, Majesty. I very much believe faeries were made to wear precious gems and gold. We are after all a master race and the most deserving. You especially. Might I hope one day to impress you enough to earn something similarly beautiful?" she asks, her face alight with excitement. She is very much a little girl in her inquiry, innocent sounding, but with dark phoenix fire in her hungry eyes that promises of ruthless measures to gain what she desires.

[King Cel]

But such innocence is over looked by the king. He watched her with that dark gaze, the same one he beheld all with. The face he watched Valencia with the same face he takes in the sight of his blood drenched lovers and brutally mangled enemies with, every emotion the king held linked in some way to his inclinations towards flesh, blood and sex. His lips remained pursed, stoic and somewhat sour looking as she took hold of his wrist. Yet he allowed her to do so without protest or any sign of withdrawal. In fact, the king reveled in the contact for he knew exactly how she felt being a nimbus treated to the magic rippling from his perfect sidhe canvas.

She inquired about the bracelet around his wrist causing him to break his darkened mask to give way to a smile and a brief glance downward. He pulled his hand away from her touch, lifting it to stroke the side of her face with a feather’s touch. ”Perhaps.” He merely whispered as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before his touch fell away.

He licked his lips, ”You would be surprised at the amount of fae who pass through these walls without once gracing me with presence.” He said thoughtfully, an acknowledgment that upon first impression she was at least smarter than some in his eyes.

He looked her over with the scrutinizing eye he looked all females over with, his eyes noticing her curves, what features he deemed desirable and what he features he viewed as off putting. He smiled as like so any women within the Darkling court she fit at least one of the molds he deemed worthy of his chambers. Though his face betrayed those thoughts he said nothing of them, letting his blatant ogling of her speak for itself before he continued on, ”You come to seek the solace of my court in troubled times. There is ample opportunity for one to prove themselves here.”