The Cherry Hung with Snow [open]

[Cantrell]

"My name is Marcus Cantrell, Seeker of the Unseelie Court," the human garlanger replied after a slight hesitation. Greetings in this world were so much different compared to that on Earth, but he managed to remember how it was done. At least he hoped he remembered correctly. "And who might you be?" He didn't take any offense for not receiving a formal greeting. Things were much simpler that way, and humans liked things simple. Besides, she appeared to have had a bit too much to drink. Such things could be expected though, especially during the festival season.

He looked longingly in the Pixie's direction. Indeed, she was a pleasant sight to the human's eyes, but it was not her that his gaze was fixated on; rather, it was the object she was holding. It had been a long time since he had tasted fine drink, and the sloshing of the faintly golden liquid inside the clear glass drove his desires even more. But the Pixie appeared to be enjoying herself very much. He would feel bad if he took that away from her. It might even be dangerous for himself to try to interfere with her and her drink. She was a female after all, and that trait combined with drink was something Cantrell learned not to mess with a long, long time ago.

Of course, Marcus could have gotten a drink himself but his legs felt suddenly stiff and he had no desire to rise from his seat. He was being lazy. Or maybe it was self restraint? Most likely a little bit of both. He let off a short sigh and ran his hand over his short beard. He would need to shave soon. It was beginning to feel a little bit uncomfortable. But that was something he could take care of later.

[Adele]

Adele's laughter tinkled softly at the sidhe's compliment. "How very nice of you to say," she returned with a bright smile, fumbling for her past skill with words and manners. What was appropriate these days? Something told her that with the new monarch, things were not necessarily relaxed. On your toes.

Shyly, she regarded the pixie servant, "I'm Adele, yes." It was impossible to resist chuckling gently at the fellow garlanger's behavior, and it nearly roped her in to the appeal of a full glass or two of alcohol. Little pixies like themselves didn't exactly hold the poison too well -- but Adele took a generous sip from the glass Sygon had handed to her. It had been some time -- another custom she had simply let slip through her fingers -- but it was still not overwhelming. Her cheeks may have flushed, but she held it fine enough.

"The Queen knows how to treat her guests," Adele said airily, making it evident that in her eyes, although the pixie was a servant, she was a guest of the festival just the same.

[Sygon]

It was hard for the pure blooded fae to feel the full effects of alcohol, and thus no matter how many drinks Sygon threw back he doubted he’d ever be truly drunk. The drunkest Sygon had ever been was very similar to how he felt down, warmth rose into his face and his cheeks tingled coaxing a perpetual smile from the night washed brute. The perpetual smile only turned into a jovial fit of laughter with Eithne’s speech, her hiccups would’ve been a very blunt indication that she was not the type to drink, but Sygon didn’t notice, the alcohol in his system made him immune to such subtleties. Still the sidhe did not sway, hiccup or show any outward signs of drunkenness. Aside from his visibly happy countenance (which could be due to his company or the party-like atmosphere) he seemed perfectly sober.

Eithne’s gaze was so wide eyed so bright that Sygon couldn’t help but do a double take as she looked towards him. It was strange, no matter how old a pixie was they always seemed so youthful. Perhaps that was what suited them so perfectly for human fairytales. Rarely one saw the likes of Sygon in a children’s book. Despite his thoughts, Sygon did not allow his gaze to linger on Eithne in any way that could be construed as anything but playful, and he gave her a squeeze around the waist with his free hand, ”We all are, my lady!” And he threw back the rest of his drink.

He eyed up Marcus, his arm still around the pixie’s waist as he gestured with his empty glass towards the human garlanger. ”The name is Sygon and this is..." His eyes flickered towards the woman in his embrace, cocking his head he note before looking back to Marcus, "Seems you haven't given me your name. Either way, have a drink with us; help me show these Seelie women how to have a good time.” Sygon’s gaze then moved towards the grand stand, the sight of the Red Queen sitting a foot above rest of the crowd held his attention for a moment. His arm fell away from Eithne and he placed his hands on his hips, and despite his height, craning his neck for a brief moment to get a better look at the infamous Fae of Reticent Fury.

”She’s beautiful.” He said as he turned back to the group, choosing to ignore Adele’s words as he had not considered her any less of a guest than he at this place.

[Eithne]

“How wonderful to meet you, sir!” Eithne found that she was quite unable to stop saying that word. Her vocabulary was not very extensive, and it seemed the only adjective suitable to the ambiance and occasion. She laughed, seeing the Human’s stare for what it was, and reached for another glass (from the tray she had brought, herself) just as the Sidhe swept her into a playful embrace. She gave a delighted little shriek of laughter, and extended the vintage toward Cantrell. “My name is Eithne, Lord,”

[/color] her voice was honeysuckle and jasmine, colored by her joy. “Oh Lady Adele, I am so happy for you! Perhaps I should not say so, but oh! How lovely,”[/color] she exclaimed, her rapture likely seeming utterly nonsensical to all present save the other Pixie. Eithne could not consider herself a guest, and did not catch the insinuation that she might be one, but it made her inexpressibly delighted that one of her kind had risen to such heights.

Sygon’s hand slipped from the girl’s waist, and she felt a strange coolness spread over her from where his grasp had supported her moments ago. It was not the touch of flesh upon flesh, and so she was spared from most of the Sidhe’s dizzying effects, but Eithne had so little physical contact with other faerie, she could not help but be susceptible. She was not that kind of servant, after all – or hadn’t been, in the past – and so her proximity to the pure-blooded fae went to her head nearly as much as the drink. She tried not to watch him as he craned, forcing her eyes to focus shyly on Cantrell, then Adele (it was easier), but her glance kept shifting back to the dark prince, inextricably. Maybe, in the youth of his power, he did not yet realize what effect he could have on lesser blood. It wasn’t that she desired him, exactly…but that his presence demanded acknowledgment and submission.

“She is the loveliest of all the Fae,”[/color] Eithne sighed in response, clutching her glass with both hands. Lovely and disconcerting, truly, but the pixie girl did not comment on that. She always avoided looking at the Queen directly, so as to escape the dangerous, hypnotic gravity she seemed to exude. “But beauty is the way of the Seelie court – what could their Queen be, but beautiful?”[/color] she smiled brightly, naively, her wings fluttering a little arythmically from intoxication. A very faint voice warned her that the break should probably be over, that she should take up her tray and continue her rounds. But the voice was quite outmatched by the ringing laughter in her heart.

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[Cantrell]

How delightful. The pixie knew what Cantrell wanted and hastily handed a fresh glass to him. Cantrell retrieved it with one hand, which was rather foolish of him. His desire for the softly golden liquid got the better of him for a moment, and he nearly allowed it to slip from his hands as he took hold of it. The human managed to bring his other hand up to the glass to keep it from falling right before the precious liquid spilled out of it.

"What a relief," he muttered quietly to himself. "A disappointed too. Haven't even tasted a sip, and it already seems like I've had a drink too many." Sighing softly, Cantrell sloshed the contents around and watched as a barrage of bubbles escaped from the glass into the air. This would be the only drink he'd have for right now. Who knew what would happen later if the human didn't reserve himself?

Looking down towards his newly acquired treasure, he gently raised the glass to his lips and took a slow sip, savoring the flavor. The richness took him by surprise, as it was unlike anything he had on earth. But then again, there were a lot of things in this world that were unlike earth. Before he knew it, the glass was empty. Unsure of what to do with the empty glass, he looked down at the ground and thought for a moment.

"Great indeed is the beauty of the Queen and that of the Seelie court." Cantrell said to no one in particular. "It is said that the first humans also originated from a place of great beauty. Sadly, they were cast out of their homes and gave up immortality when they decided to deceive and blame one another. Not too long later, the first murder was committed between blood brothers." By now, he had a partial idea of what to do with the empty glass. He would use trickery to make it seem to have disappeared. "Ever since then, all humans have been cursed by deceitfulness, jealousy, and mortality."

Cantrell allowed the cup to slip carelessly from his hands in plain view of everyone else there, but there was not the sound of breaking glass nor the sound of an object hitting the ground. Rather, the glass appeared upside down on an empty tray. "Most humans fall prey to the sins of their ancestors. Others master them and use it to their advantage." He relaxed in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. He was actually enjoying himself in the company of others for once.

[Adele]

Their Queen, Adele noted. Her fellow pixie did not recognize herself as part of the Court -- although she was, even as a Court's servant, she still was. It saddened Adele's heart, but what could be done? She felt guilty over her Conri rank. She did not understand it, and it had never been something she desired or dreamed of, as this pixie must have, one way or another. It was not entirely fair. For once in her life, Adele suddenly did wish she had more power, more control, to keep such wistful creatures as Eithne content.

"It's unfortunate. Many of the races' tales seem to go down a dark path these days," she spoke softly, distantly. Some faraway part of her wanted to cry, but she nudged it down and smiled serenely at Marcus. Adele felt that a topic change was in order, even though she had an inkling that it only perturbed her because of Eithne's situation. She found it difficult to move away from, her empathy too great for her own good.

So she swiped another glass, sipped assertively, and stared across the festival and its crowds.

[Sygon]

Perhaps Sygon was not aware of his magnetism when it came to the lesser fae, or perhaps he enjoyed the attention his new powers garnered. Either way, the dark skinned philosaphe did not take any precautions when interacting with the garlangers before him. He drank, danced and interacted with them as he would any faerie. Some would consider it reckless, others (sidhe) would consider him careless but Sygon considered it modest. He had been a nimbus once and he had coexisted alongside garlangers in a way that very nearly resembled total respect for them, he didn’t think such a practice should change now, even after he came into power.

The sidhe noticed Eithne’s avoidant gaze when the topic of the Queen came up. Her words came forth, a sad sound made even sadder by the lyrics she sung. ”Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” He held two fingers out, tilting her chin upwards so that her gaze could meet his, ”And I do not agree that she is the loveliest of all fae.”[/b]

It seemed the conversation had changed for the worse and Sygon listened to the dialogue between the other two with a disappointed look. This was supposed to be a party and initially the conversation had been light, but instead it had taken a dismal turn. He turned, squaring his body up to face the other two. ”Yes and many races have concocted such fairytales as well. It doesn’t mean we should dwell on them.” [/color]

[Skylla]

With the coming of night comes the pounding of drums who direct a procession of faerie dressed in flowing white robes and cowls. Horns sound a triumphant call as each member of the procession surrounds a large pyre. One by one each fae takes their torch to the pyre until the tower of lumber is a blazing inferno.

The Imbolc bonfire symbolizes the melting away of winter and the warmth associated with the spring. The light of life can be seen for the first time since the past summer in burning pyre embers. The whole festival is bathed in warmth and a powerful brightness.

[Eithne]

Oh, cruelty! Could the sidhe know how he tortured the simple pixie girl? His touch – direct this time, where before she had the armor of fabric to protect her – was like a potent drug, and Eithne’s eyes shone as she obeyed the unspoken command to meet her captor’s gaze. She bit her lip when he spoke, a crease in her forhead giving her an appearance of worry, or perhaps muted desperation. She blushed fiercely, but with her coloring it only appeared as a faint bloom of rose across her cheeks. He couldn’t be speaking of her! She was a garlanger, and while pretty for a garlanger, was certainly not the prettiest pixie around! Adele, for one, far outshone her, and she was standing right there! But perhaps there was something unattractive about a pixie transcending the caste that was her birthright…the thought troubled Eithne briefly, before she turned her eyes away, and caught the human’s sleight of hand.

“What is this magic?” she demanded, delighted, her smile reappearing while her voice wavered slightly with her swiftly beating heart. Her giggle was colored with nervousness, the flush remaining on her cheeks. “It seems you have learned some tricks yourself, my lord! Did you see the glass?”

[/color] She directed the second question at Adele, but immediately turned to Sygon with a look that seemed to beg his approval. Truly, Eithne was beside herself, and making a valiant effort to contain her feelings. It was just too much happiness, too much pleasure! To think, when she had dressed that morning, she was dressing to cavort with nimbus and Sidhe!

The bonfire was lit, and Eithne sighed happily as she gazed at its climbing flames, her bronze skin shimmering with a sheen of glitter in the warm light. She could not see her own wings, but if she could she would have been pleased – they gleamed like glass shot through with veins of silver and obsidian black, catching and reflecting the bon fire’s glow. Perhaps she was beautiful, in her way. “Oh, I am so happy Spring has come,”[/color] she murmured, mostly to herself. The words had hardly escaped her lips, when an arrow suddenly struck her from above.

Eithne's eyes widened a bit, though her reaction was slightly delayed by virtue of drink and surprise. She could feel eyes on her -- smile wavering, she glanced down to see the arrow's point jutting out a few inches below her right collarbone, blood already seeping into the bodice of her dress. The back of the arrow protruded from her shoulder, though this was beyond her sight. Her head swam. “I don't...understand,” she coughed, struggling to breathe with one lung very likely collapsed. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor.[/color]
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EDIT on 3/4/11 to reflect attack -- edits are in black.

[Cantrell]

That sounds. That twanging sound was all too familiar. He had heard it many times. But what was it? The human suddenly remembered as the his of razor sharp arrow heads sliced through the air as they descended, looking for their next victim. His reflexes kicked in instantly and a rush of adrenaline swept into his bloodstream. "Take cover!" the human shouted out with a rather commanding voice. It was something he had said many times before. This would just have to be another one of those times.

He kicked up the table that was in front of him, knocked off all the contents, and listened as several arrows tore through fabric and impaled themselves into the hardened furniture wood. The thud of metal sticking to the table was strangely satisfying. That was probably because he was mortal, and those arrows were more than enough to kill him several times over. It were times like these that Cantrell wished he was immortal like the others. But then again, being thrown into a trance like several other unfortunate faerie would be just awful.

"Looks like this day for celebrating new life will result in a bloodbath. The irony." He chuckled to himself, even though it was not an appropriate moment for laughs. Thankfully, he had his gurkha concealed under his robes. It was good to be armed, especially at times like these. Once the human pulled his nerves together, he went to check and see if any others around him had been injured.

[Adele]

Adele spun violently away from the group, diving underneath a table, nearly catching a swing on one of the legs. Merise buzzed after her, frantic, seeming to shout at her with the quick beating of his little wings. What in the world is happening... Like everything else, it had been decades since Adele had witnessed any fighting, let alone at such a large scale. She no longer carried weapons with her, as she once had; she could hardly recall where she even stored all her various knives.

After gaining safety, she realized she was concerned over the human -- until she saw him take out his weapon and stride by, checking everyone.

What can I do? I feel so... helpless. Powerless. In many situations -- in the past, of course -- Adele had always managed a sense of superiority, had repeatedly felt just how in control she was, even if no one else was aware. She was used to this, accustomed to knowing how to handle herself, knowing all her options and the ability with which to pick and choose them. Lately, everything was on its head; she acted so freely after having abandoned life almost all together. She had planned, previously, to simply live out eternity in a tiny corner by herself... She now knew how silly that was -- but it put her at a loss. Who was she, these days? Where was she?

A wave of incredible insecurity washed over her, sending shivers across her limbs. The sick, pitted feeling in her stomach knotted, and she thought she might throw up. This, too, was relatively unfamiliar.

And this was not the time for it.

With a determined grunt, she burst from underneath the table -- Merise flitting after her -- and began ripping arrows from their nestled places. As she gathered up more and more, gripping handfuls of the things, she zipped by the creatures. Using them like poor, small daggers, she jabbed and stabbed with them, attempting to nestle them into thighs, sides, arms, whatever -- it was something.

She was something.

[Sygon]

Adrenaline flooded him and the world slowed. He practically saw the ribbon of blood spurt from Eithne’s chest as the arrow struck her. He could hear her words but could only reach for her as she fell, sliding his right hand around her shoulders and his left behind her waist. He felt her, all but deadweight in his arms as his initial shock subsided and the situation around him became apparent. The festival was under attack. He lowered himself and Eithne down, pulling her behind the table that Cantrell had overturned.

Sygon eyed Marcus with and irritated look. No matter how many times the sidhe had found himself embraced in combat he would never get used to it, he would never feel comfortable enough in battle to make jokes or even quip about it, especially when someone close to him had been injured. He looked down at the pixie, who he knew would recover from such injuries but at the same time feared for her well being. However, Sygon was not so totally wrapped up in the injured Eithne that he was unaware of his surroundings.

A dark face appeared over the table, a tall creature, one who had attacked Imbolc. Sygon sprang at the beast an outstretched hand taking hold of his face as he activated his hand of power. An emerald flame erupted to life and it was buried into the creature’s face. The beast reeled back and Sygon kicked the creature to the ground.

He crouched, noting that in the momentary fray the being had managed to slash his arm with a blade. Glancing back at Cantrell he said, ”Take care of Eithne, I’ll help the other pixie.”

He drew his bastard sword and moved after Adele. His one hand aflame with magic and the other brandishing the deadly weapon.

[Eithne]

The Sidhe's arms were warm and welcoming -- she felt a rush of peacefulness flow through her as he caught and lowered her, a dimness spreading through her field of vision that could have been the horde of dark beings, or a product of shock. She leaned her head against Sygon's chest, breathing him in, temporarily unaware of the chaos and pain. Her blood was flowing freely, despite the arrow's plug, and likely spattering the pristine white of Sygon's clothes. She hiccupped. Someone was speaking, but Eithne couldn't place the words. Then she was lying against the table, all alone (or so it felt), and the radiating pain returned. Her hand drifted up to her chest, fingers gently tracing the arrowhead's edge. She shivered from cold.

“Take it out,” she requested softly, her eyes beginning to fill with tears that she didn't comprehend. “Will you take it out, please?”

[/color] She fixed her tremulous gaze on Cantrell with effort, trying very hard to remain present in this ordeal. What was happening? “I think I will stop bleeding once the arrow is out.”[/color] She continued. Arrow? What arrow? What was going on?

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[Cantrell]

Cantrell looked over at the wounded Pixie. The wound was only a minor flesh wound. He could tell by looking that no arteries nor organs were hit. It was a "clean" wound. None of the dark red that came from arteries squirted out with each beat of the heart. Instead, the blood appeared to be a bright red. He thought about what he should do. Eithne seemed conscious, but that might not last too long. Bleeding wasn't too bad either. These arrows were razor sharp, so they'd most likely wouldn't do any serious damage unless they hit something important. This one seemed to just pierce through the shoulder. Nerve damage and pain would be minor inconveniences.

"Well, I'll get this arrow out soon enough. Just think happy thoughts, or try to remember a good dream." The human said calmly. Keeping her calm would be his major concern for now. "This will all be over soon." Grasping the shaft of the arrow firmly. he used his gurkha to cut it off as close to the entry would as possible. Then, he pinched the arrowhead and slid it effortlessly out of her body. This did cause more blood to flow from the wound. Also, air would fill the cavity, making it harder to breath.

Then again, she was immortal so Cantrell wouldn't know how exactly things would work out. Either way, the bleeding had to be stopped and the wound had to be covered. He tore a long strip of fabric off of his white cloak and tightly wrapped the cloth over her wound to stop the bleeding. "Just hang in there a bit longer. Everything is going to be alright. Nothing you need to worry about."

[Adele]

She did not see the scramble behind her as she slipped through the crowds of creatures, swiping an arrow into a calf here, diving one into a side there. Wings abuzz, she zig-zagged through them, wrenching more arrows free for ammo when she wasn't stabbing with them. When the opportunity arose, she shoved arrows through already open, bleeding wounds -- ones that, sometimes, she had originally caused.

Adele nearly mistook Sygon for some great lord of these creatures -- the image of his dark, shining skin paired with his glowing hand, the other wielding his giant sword (it was probably bigger than her, she thought). Her heart hiccuped before she fully recognized him.

"Do you have some sort of plan?" She called to him, feeling bold and electric. With a great burst of wing power, she propelled herself towards him. "This is all I have," she told him hurriedly, exposing her bloodied hands, cradling all her found arrows. "I do not like to buckle down," she heard herself say, wondering where that even came from.

And then she gave her wings a jolt, just barely managing to dodge a triple shot of arrows. One had grazed her upper arm, but she did not take any note of it.