The Cherry Hung with Snow [open]

[Eithne]

Eithne was easily amused. It was a fortunate trait, considering her lot in life; one that not many of her compatriots shared. As she moved through the crowds of faerie mingling between the courts, her dazzling smile lighting up at every turn, several of the other servants cast resentful glances in her direction, try as they might to hide them. How could she be so happy, when they were little more than slaves? She could because she was a Seelie Pixie who loved, above all else, beautiful things -- and these were in particularly great supply, today.

It also helped that the court members tolerated her presence and her antics more than most of her rank. She was permitted to speak to them (though she rarely did), she danced her way between tasks, she sang, she made her presence known. It was not a cry for attention, and perhaps that was why she got away with it -- her tastes were simple, her humor good. A pleasing face and sweet manner won over those few that remained staunchly superior. At least, she had run into very few courtiers that disliked her, and avoided those few like the plague.

“More wine please!” she sang, rounding a corner to the makeshift kitchens where the work behind all the festivities took place. She arranged several delicate glasses on a silver tray, and danced her way back into the party. How lovely it was! All the fae bedecked in white -- she herself wore a knee-length dress of satin and lace, which sparkled like freshly fallen snow -- and their cheerfulness, and their laughter! Eithne laughed at their joy, delighting in it all, and broke immediately into humming the melody of the song being played.

“Would you care for a drink?”

[/color] she inquired of a faerie she had not met, holding the stemware toward him gracefully.[/color][/blockquote]

[Kin/diablo]

Unlike some of the other participants, Hal hadn't gone entirely white for the festival. It seemed also that he might have underdressed, though his formal demeanor tended to make up for it -- he was in his element here, mild-mannered and unfailingly courteous, blending in only as much as he wanted to. He wore black dress pants and a pure white dress shirt -- no tie -- untucked but without a blazer to obscure his choice of color.

Early on in the celebrations, he thought he caught a glimpse of the Seelie queen -- and while he couldn't be sure whether it was her or just another face among many unfamiliar faces, he gave her wide berth. As he'd mentioned earlier to the strangers at the Exordium, he wouldn't bother with Seelie politics unless it was required of him, though now, with members of that court now milling about all around him, he thought it was probably good that he had not, at the time, provoked them unduly.

Hal was many things, but trouble was not one of them.

Similarly, he kept an eye out for the sidhe he had met in the Unseelie caverns. The last thing Hal wanted now was a repeat of their earlier encounter, especially out here with the faerie of both courts. He glanced around again, the movement casual enough not to attract any unwarranted attention, and as such, he was looking in the other direction when the servant appeared at his elbow.

"Ah," he said, and sketched a rough bow to cover up his surprise. He'd encountered two pixie garlangers recently, both from the Seelie Court, though this one seemed different somehow -- more cheerful, perhaps. "Thank you." He accepted the glass with an appreciative smile.

[Eithne]

The pixie had not meant to startle the man, and was very embarrassed when he turned, concealing his surprise, to accept the proffered glass. If she had been fairer of complexion, she would have blushed deeply. Instead her smile merely faded for the moment, and she hastened to rectify her mistake.

“I do apologize, sir! I did not mean to sneak up on you.” she cast her eyes down, blushing further at his smile, and in that glance noticed his slacks for the first time. Her face immediately brightened. “Oh, but you are wearing black!”

[/color] She laughed gaily as if this were the funniest thing she had heard all day, her voice like music and summer breezes. “You must be careful, my lord, that the Queen does not see you…she may mistake you for an Unseelie!”[/color] she said to him, in a conspiratorial whisper. Then she realized her mistake. “Oh my, are you Unseelie?”[/color] she paled, “I’m terribly sorry! I hope I have not offended you! It was only a joke!”[/color]

Eithne was running her mouth, and she knew it. She clamped her free hand over those delinquent lips, shuddering with laughter despite her embarrassment and fear. She had seen the Unseelie fae before, of course, having waited on both courts at previous festivals, but she had never dared to speak with them – especially the ones whose dark manners and strange looks had given them away, at once. It wasn’t that she judged them, exactly, but her innocent mind was quite susceptible to rumors, and these ran rampant about the darkling throng. To her, everything Seelie was sunshine and rainbows, while the Unseelie lurked in shadows. This faerie gentleman, though, was not what she imagined. Perhaps not everything she had heard was true?

When it appeared he would not strike her, she pulled her hand from her mouth. “What’s it like?”[/color] she asked, hushed, glancing about to make sure nobody had heard her impertinence.
[/color][/blockquote]

[Kin/diablo]

Hal blinked but remained silent, letting her continue to talk without interruption. How strange, he thought absently, keeping half of his attention on her and the other half on what was happening around them, and kind of clueless. He suspected that the Seelie Court wasn't very different from his own, as some seemed to believe. The comments from the pixie he'd met earlier only strengthened his suspicions, though he doubted he'd ever be able to confirm them.

"There are many Unseelie here," Hal said, with no real change in expression, solemn except for the barest hint of good humor. "Please don't worry about it -- I do not take offense easily." Then his smile widened. "But shall I try to stay out of sight, just in case?" He hadn't seen his own king yet, but that didn't mean the infamous Cel wasn't here among the crowd.

Maybe it was about time to finally meet the man, see if all the talk did him justice.

What's what like? Hal was about to ask, before he realized what the pixie meant. "The Unseelie? Murder and intrigue," he said dryly, "the ground strewn with corpses and stained with blood." Then he recalled her conspiratorial whisper and added, "Only a joke, Miss. It's actually been quite dull since I've arrived."

[Sygon]

The Festival of Spring was an inane holiday for Sygon, he had very little use for it. The sidhe rarely ventured outside of the Unseelie caverns no matter what the weather, thus he could care very little as to what season it was. It was strange for Sygon to be so apathetic about something; he wasn’t the type for melancholy. Still, the sidhe didn’t see a point in celebrating something very few faerie ever appreciated. Sure, at one point Imbolc had meant something to the Celtic people who banked on an early spring for their survival, but when the fae were within their courts the weather there emulated an eternal spring. Sygon didn’t understand the talk of rebirth, the magic was always there.

Regardless, the behemoth was not the type to turn down a festival of any type. He enjoyed drinking and eating his fill, partaking in the merriment of the occasion. Sygon would never give credence to Imbolc’s meaning (in that way he was apathetic) but he’d never begrudge himself a chance to dance, sing and have a good time.

The crystal glass he held in his hands seemed so delicate beneath his obsidian grip. He looked down at it, shocked at how gentle he could be. The way the glass was in his hand reminded him so much of how Alicia had been within his embrace, before Cel had ruined her. The white wine sparkled in the sunlight, the slightly carbonated beverage sweeter than Sygon would have preferred but it was not the worst thing in the world. He took a sip. Despite the fact that he was essentially an Imbolc atheist he had chosen to humor tradition and thus wore all white. A white tunic, trimmed in golden brocade, the clothing was not particularly outstanding or ornate, but the difference between Sygon’s dark as night flesh and the purity of his garb was interesting, and it caused many who had never seen Sygon before to take a second glance at him.

Sygon had been standing within earshot of the woman and the man who were making conversation, a pixie from the Seelie and a nimbus from his own court, one by the name of Hal who he had met before. Though Sygon chuckled at the man’s joke, something told him the quip would unnerve the poor pixie, who already seemed to have some preconceived notion that the Unseelie was the stuff of nightmares. Not that he disagreed; he had seen the King of the Darkling Throng in action and could attest the man was fiend.

Sygon turned, stepping in just as Hal spoke of the court’s dullness. ”Dull, indeed. How have you been, Hal?” He offered them both a smile and a courteous bow. When he stood he realized he was no longer a nimbus, but a sidhe, and the last time he had seen Hal he had been the former. He wondered what the man would think. ”However, I would take dull over the gaudiness of this festival, any day. Though I’m sure King Cel could not do a festival of rebirth any kind of justice.” The latter part of his words was direct at Hal. He couldn’t imagine Cel, the Prince of Darkness and Flesh, hosting any type of party that was in honor of something so cheerful as spring. He turned his silver gaze to Eithne, his face every bit inviting. ”What is your home like? I have never been to the Seelie Court.”

[Eithne]

Eithne's jaw dropped slightly as Hal listed murder, blood and corpses among the Unseelie's finer traits. She was half unwilling to believe this was a joke, and was about to say as much, when another stranger arrived on the scene. Her face turned toward him, mouth still hanging open in astonishment, but she quickly forced it closed. Sygon, she knew immediately, was a Sidhe -- and the purest fae were often the hardest to please and easiest to offend.

“Good day, my lord,” she murmured politely, a quick curtsy made in attempt to appear socially aware. But instead of eyeing the floor like the usual slave, she openly stared at him as he spoke, admiring his beauty and grace. In appearance, the Sidhe was much more what she imagined the Unseelie to be, but in attitude he was even further from her prejudices than Hal. Bewilderment and curiosity bloomed on her face as she glanced between them, absorbing their interaction. She nearly jumped when the dark Fae turned his attention on her.

“Oh, you don't like the party, my Lord? But it is so beautiful!”

[/color] she said sadly, genuinely hurt that Imbolc did not appear to suit Sygon's tastes. Her wings fluttered gently; her version of a nervous tic. Light cascaded around her in refracted blues. “The Seelie court is much like this -- warm and bright, filled with music, pretty things,”[/color] she beamed, presuming this would sound very appealing to both gentlemen, “Our Queen prefers that everything and everyone look their absolute best, to honor the court. But perhaps that is not so different from yours, judging by the two of you!”[/color] Her smile reappeared immediately, glad to be delivering compliments which suited both her training and her demeanor. They were easy on the eyes -- she did not exaggerate when she said so -- but a higher-ranking fae might have been more conservative than she about who she complimented and when.

[/color][/blockquote]

Yep. No muse at all.

[Kin/diablo]

Hal kept his gaze trained on the pixie. The way her mouth dropped open made it clear that she didn't completely believe his assurances, though any onlookers would notice that he did nothing to disabuse her of this notion. Instead, he transferred his attention to Sygon, listening to the man's words without quite turning to him.

"I'm doing well," Hal replied, though he sounded less than enthusiastic about whole thing. "And the festival has been...exciting." He glanced over to Sygon and -- didn't freeze, not exactly, but he stared for a moment too long before looking away again, refocusing on the wine that swirled in his glass.

"King Cel. The festival -- yes," he said, distracted, his words continuing on autopilot even as he tried to pinpoint whatever it was that had managed to catch his attention. "Perhaps next year. Your queen has done wonderfully, Miss." Something didn't seem quite right. He puzzled over this, let the image of the man in front of him seep into his consciousness, this sidhe who--

--who had not been a sidhe when they had met, Hal realized with a sudden awareness, and then it all clicked into place. He wondered what to say about it, if he should say anything at all. After a moment, he said, finally, "Staying out of trouble, Sygon?"

[Sygon]

Sygon offered up a smirk at the pixie’s exclamation. The sidhe should have known better to comment on the décor of the Imbolc festival, though it had been decorated according to the queen’s tastes it had been the pixie servants who had done most of the work. It was not surprising Eithne thought the world of the festival with all the pureness, the white drapery and tulles that hung from the tents, the nearly white flames that flickered atop equally white candles. It was all too pure, all too phony. But Sygon wouldn’t comment on the festival any more, it would be in bad tastes, especially around the garlanger.

Pretty things, he thought, and he wondered if the girl had heard of the reputation that the Seelie Queen was attached to. Oh yes, the Red Queen was a very pretty thing indeed, but she was thought of as one of the fiercest warriors in all of Alanor. Something told Sygon the Red Queen didn’t get her Goblin Blade title by doing pretty things to her enemies. In fact, he imagined she did things more akin to what his own ruler had done to him just days ago. Once more, Sygon kept silent, choosing to nod and smile brightly at her remarks.

”It sounds lovely, he said warmly as he took another sip from his glass, giving Hal a look over the brim when she delivered the compliment to the two men.

Sygon immediately noticed Hal’s reaction when the man laid eyes upon him. What would he have done if Hal had been the sidhe and he the nimbus? He would have been jealous, he imagined. Perhaps he would have been happy for Hal, he even thought. In fact, Sygon wasn’t sure how he’d feel, he wasn’t sure what he would say, and he deduced the nimbus was probably feeling something similar to that. To Hal’s question he simply nodded, ”As best I can, trouble often finds me.”

A pixie carrying a tray of drinks fluttered by and Sygon took the opportunity to move the conversation away from him. He raised a hand to stop the pixie and was surprised at how quickly she responded to his gesture. He took two glasses from her, the top of the stems sliding between his fingers. He extended the hand that held the glasses towards his two counterparts. ”A toast…” He glanced at Eithne, ”To a lovely festival and even lovelier company. Here, take one.” And he urged Eithne to take one of the glasses.

[Eithne]

The loaded exchange between Hal and Sygon was, of course, completely lost on Eithne. Subconsciously she had stored their names, in order to address them more formally in the future, but the significance of the Sidhe’s trouble-making (or trouble-attracting, as the case might have been) went directly over her head. In her defense, she was rather short – lots of things were able to go over her head that might have struck someone larger in the face.

It was fortunate that Sygon kept his thoughts on the phoniness of the festival to himself. If he had voiced them, Eithne would have very likely died from a heart attack, as she would have done if he had commented on Queen Annette’s behavior on the battlefield. The pixie did not like to think about such distasteful things, and so she remained staunchly ignorant to their existence. What was the use thinking about them, when they had nothing to do with her? She did not speculate that the Sidhe meant anything by his comment than what he said – that it sounded lovely – because that was all she could imagine, and she was not subtle enough to derive subtext. She beamed at him, sure that her description had impressed, and fluttered.

At the invitation to a toast, however, Eithne found herself somewhat at a loss. “Oh! I…” she glanced between the drink and her own tray, “But…”

[/color] half her lower lip slipped between her teeth, her eyes wide with surprise and indecision, “I don’t know if…”[/color] and then she caved. Placing the tray she held very gently on the nearest table, and sincerely hoping none of the other Pixies took offense that she was taking a break, she delicately plucked the glass from Sygon’s fingers, and smiled shyly. “I suppose…if you insist? Thank you, Prince Sygon.”[/color] She raised the glass, glancing at Hal fearfully, excitedly, and took a dainty sip.
[/color][/blockquote]

[Adele]

Recent events had pulled the worm from under its rock and Adele was unable to resist temptation. She hadn’t attended a festival in nearly fifteen years, and in the past she hadn’t been a seeker of the court. Even now, she was baffled by the title, no matter how small it may have been.

Limited to many old rags that she tended and mended herself, Adele had scrounged up a dusty white dress done up in lace with a corset torso. It was low-cut in the back to allow room for her wings, tight and snug until it reached her thighs and curled out in light ripples. Her shoes were soft flat things that tied up her ankles, not too different from ballet shoes. The toes and sides were dotted with low-grade opals, matching the opal necklace that hung into the curve of the corset v-neck. The rest of her was left to its own devices, as she often did; hair hanging plainly, face bare, wings without extra decoration.

Shy but lacking any anxiety or strained nerves, Adele glided through the crowds, hovering by servers to observe the food and drink at hand. Merise flitted after her skittishly until he buzzed around a small group by a table. They were being served by a pixie, Adele noted, although they were also toasting with another. A man carved from coal seemed to be initiating this and the non-serving pixie appeared taken aback. The other in their group seemed rather—

Familiar, she thought. Uncertain of her actions – was she certain of anything these days? – she tip-toed closer, bowing her head to the dark sidhe once she approached them. Before turning to Hal, she nodded at her fellow pixie briefly.

“We crossed paths in Exordium,” she said, voice like crushed seashells, “but this time our reasons for being so far from home are evident enough. May I join you all?” She directed this last question to the sidhe with another small dip of her head.

[Cantrell]

The human stood nearby the other faerie and had hims arms crossed. Drink was a weak point for him. Once he started, he found it hard to stop, so in an attempt to not make a fool of himself, he decided to not drink at all. But it was so tempting. Nevertheless, he had to put mind over body. Cantrell thought about himself and how he was dressed compared to the others. A plain white robe was placed over his regular clothes and he wore a white shemagh to protect his neck from the slight chill that constantly nipped at his neck. His face was exposed though so that he would at least be recognizable.

Upon examining the people gathered around, he recognized Hal but did not know any of the others. He looked over at Hal and immediately noticed the black dress pants. A grin came across Cantrell's face and he couldn't help but to look back at the ground and let out a chuckle. "I could expect someone like him to come dressed like that," he muttered to himself. The grin left him and his face returned to a neutral tone so he looked back up at the others. The human had no fun in just watching them anymore, so he decided to interact with them.

[Kin/diablo]

Holding Sygon's gaze for a long moment before breaking eye contact, Hal wondered if the other faerie meant anything in particular by his reply. Still, he let the question drop, as anyone with any common sense would do in polite company, where both court monarchs were presumably present. "A toast," he agreed, and lifted his glass before taking a sip. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw another pixie's approach -- not a servant this time, as far as he could tell, but hers was a face that lingered somewhere in recent memory.

"Yes, little Seelie faerie," Hal said, "I remember you." He raised his eyebrows. "And your friend, also." He could have done any number of things at this point -- it occurred to him that the pixie's companion from earlier might not have escaped unharmed, and he had half a mind to ask, if only to see the pixie's reaction. Before he could speak, however, something caught his eye, and he tracked the movement from across the tent with a slight frown. "Excuse me," he said abruptly, and detached himself from the group without further explanation.

[Sygon]

”I do insist but there’s no need to thank me.” And he gave the pixie girl a playful nudge as the three of them toasted to good companionship. The Unseelie men, a nimbus and a sidhe, giving attention to a Seelie pixie, something Sygon was sure did not happen often. Despite the fact that the garlangers didn’t have the greatest political prowess in the Unseelie court, he had heard rumors that the garlangers had it even worse off in the Seelie. At least in the Unseelie garlangers were valued for their exotic beauty, one of the few things Sygon agreed with his king on.

The arrival of the next pixie pulled his attention for Eithne for a rare moment. He met Adele with a charming smile, the same type he had offered to Eithne. ”You may, but I’m afraid you’ve missed the toast. It seems we were ahead of ourselves though, to toast to lovely company only for the company to get even lovelier. He reached down and plucked a glass off the tray Eithne had and offered it to Adele.

It was odd, Sygon had never been an authority, he had always been respected, yes, but now that he was a sidhe he noted the way people treated him. Adele had approached and looked to him as if he were the deciding factor as to whether or not she would be allowed to enter the conversation. Sygon saw no difference between himself and Hal, yet she opened conversation with the nimbus freely. It was interesting, but it made no difference to the behemoth. He was simply Sygon.

When Hal departed he gave him a slight bow. Where some might be offended at his departure without a proper goodbye, Sygon didn’t mind. The group was becoming a little large and instead of being a small conversation, they were starting to attract some attention. Not that the sidhe minded, he stood alongside two beautiful pixies but the pixies were not the only ones attracting his attention. He saw a man glance at Hal and mutter something, then take a brief look at the group. ”You alright over there? Why don’t you speak up, I’m sure the conversation over here is much better than talking to yourself.” He took a swig from the glass, the silver strand of his eyebrow arched as he watched.

[Cantrell]

Cantrell glanced at the Unseelie who had just spoken out to him. The one called Sygon. A Sidhe? Maybe. Cantrell wasn't too sure though. The other was certainly a much higher rank than him. A prince, if Cantrell heard correctly. "He seems friendly enough." the human thought to himself. Slowly, he walked over to the group. There was no need to be in a hurry.

When he arrived, he took a seat and crossed his arms. He didn't know what to talk about. Most likely what he could do is make up something that is believable and tell it to the unsuspecting Seelie. Somewhat fake horror stories about bloodshed and cruelty began form in his mind. Maybe he could talk about how war was on earth. The weapons there infinitely more powerful than any he had seen in this world. Maybe later. For now, he was content with listening to the conversation.

[Eithne]

Eithne never drank. As she stood there grasping the stemware full of champagne (or something else, equally sparkly), which seemed quite large in her tiny hands, she could not help but sip frequently to occupy herself. She did not know, or had forgotten, how very quickly the liquor would go to her head...but for the next forty seconds or so she was sober as a funeral, her eyes dancing over each member of the group.

“You are called Adele, aren't you?” she asked when the other pixie stepped into their midst. Eithne thought she had seen her before, though perhaps not in quite some time. It had been rumored that she was now a seeker to the court, and the brown-skinned girl felt a swell of pride that one of her own would be considered for such a thing. She, of course, would forever be a servant. She lacked the dignity and ambition to wish for anything greater. As Hal replied to the other pixie's comment and departed, Eithne merely nodded and drank, quite used to higher faerie walking away without explanation. Why would he explain anything? It was none of her business.

“And what is your name, sir?”

[/color] she inquired of Cantrell, the human, as he approached, feeling a little brazen as she did not offer the garlanger any formality. He was a courtier, albeit a lower one, and probably deserved more deference than she provided, but by now the bubbles were going to her head. She hiccuped. “OH! Ex-CUSE me!”[/color] she cried, and dissolved into a fit of laughter. She pointed at the glass as she giggled. “This is wonderful! I don't think I've ever had something so...wonderful!”[/color] She gazed up (a long way up -- she had to crane her head) at Sygon rapturously. “Oh, I'm so wonderfully happy!”[/color] [/color][/blockquote]