warbidden

[warbidden]

setting: with dusk slowly settling upon the day court, its denizens go about their lives as best as they can even as the shadow of a threat looms over them. @ofwrxth is no different as she presides over her dominion under the mother's eye, not knowing a familiar face was on his way to her. ( present: elysia )

it is known that the solar courts look most spectacular during their designated hours. and while valerian had seen most of prythian at all hours, here in the day court at eventide with its night-blooming flowers floating in the wind and the last of the sun's rays peeking through the clouds, he comes to the realisation that he hasn't in a while taken in the view of a temple as ancient as this one. tall, sand-coloured columns line the outer edges of the pantheon, each bearing carvings of gods of old and heroes of prythian—all champions of their age, legends that carry their echoes of victory to the present. beyond the portico, within its centre is the altar upon which a large crucible stands, no doubt made in the likeness of the cauldron. it houses a blazing fire, crackling its regard to the many that stand around it with their eyes closed in benediction. some even prostrate themselves before the light. if the temple is a living, breathing thing, then the flame is its beating heart.

silently, valerian strides past the people and their prayers and into the corridors leading to the living quarters and the high priestess' office. he had been here once or twice before, each time on official duty. but tonight... a niggling feeling—a debt he owes—coaxes him away from tyrian's company and into the city of the day court. perhaps debt is too stiff a word to use for what had transpired under the mountain. but gratitude... yes, gratitude is what he wishes to express to the high priestess who saved him. to an old friend who came to his aid when he least expected it.

"elysia," he says at her door. "it's me, valerian."

#elysia.valerian 002 #// letsssgooo

[warbidden]

the summer court

prythian courts: spring court | autumn court | winter court | dawn court | day court | night court

[warbidden]

setting: waves breaking across the beach sounded from below, a white noise that brought them all calm. but somewhere in the palace the sound was interrupted by the intermittent scripting of @lithikos determined to see her will be done.

heirloom roses and monarch butterflies; soft, white sand and cloudless skies. when valerian thought of izara, his memories were often laminated with childish laughter and joyous shrieks so unencumbered that those moments became synonymous with the aches of lips and cheeks that have smiled too often and too long. these days, they are accompanied by a familiar feeling of nostalgia and longing for the past, for peace.

like a fire in the wild winds, woe licked at their feet, at the hem of their garb at every turn attaching a weight to even their voice. and with every pivot valerian, wrought by duty and instinct, sought to shield the youngest daughter of the summer court from the chaos awaiting at the border of their territory—not insubordinately but rather the opposite. a subject which he was about to address.

easily, he entered her study after knocking on the wooden door once. twice. thrice. the strikes not loud enough to echo down the hallways but heavy enough to announce his purpose. "princess." the acknowledgment was terse and curiously laced with humour, the kind used when a father tells his child no. smoothly he slid the letter in his hand, wax unsealed and its contents read, on to the mahogany table across which stood the lady herself.

"enlighten me, izara, but why did you send me a request to go visit the border for yourself?" absolutely not were the words he held back.

#izara.valerian 001

[warbidden]

…what does one do with the sense of loss that tailgates their body?

Billy-Ray Belcourt, from This Wound Is a World; “The Oxford Journal”

[warbidden]

setting: spring greeted him with a green tendril, the gentle breeze uplifting it in a beckoning. come. boughs ladened with cherry blossoms hung low overhead. its perfume permeated the air—faint and subtle. but yonder stood a lady of spring in her courtyard of wild flowers and butterflies. slowly, @aureattes' eyes the colour of molten honey yet darkened by the vestiges of war turned toward him.

"thought i'd find you here."

a smile lifted the side of his mouth, knowing that his predisposition of intruding on kamelya's time of reflection has long been a habit he has yet to kick. in the ten years they had spent at war, a fraction of them he had spent with her. they had an understanding of sorts in those days. they would work silently next to each other, herding people to safety to this place or that quietly in the night or under the sun. but the times that they did speak, those moments were filled with the sorrows and sometimes the small happinesses of the day.

"i came to say that the vanguard has decided to approach the wall in two days. they will be looking for cracks and then ways to defend should the need arise."

"has it been decided if you or the high lord will be coming with us?"

#kamelya.valerian 001 #// finally here!! #// sorry for the wait! <3

[warbidden]

knowing that the sword in his hand wouldn't help the female, valerian grabs another nearby spear and propels it at the descending peregryn under her. his throw is strong enough to pierce through armour and sinew, letting blood spill like carnelian overflowing. and immediately, he spares no time in reaching towards his scabbards at his sides. in one fell swoop valerian lets fly two daggers, each embedding itself into their remaining foes.

his chest is heaving as he approaches the high priestess, finally noticing her garb. he dusts the debris from her face as he says, "yes, and that was a very dumb thing you did," not quite extending the same buffer as her sarcasm. "those two," he jerks his head to the peregryns with daggers in their chests as he extends his hand to pull her up, "had their arrows trained on you." when he hears the lilt on his name, it is as if he unwittingly plucks out a memory, one of solstice across rolling hills of verdant green. laughter and drinks were shared—how it now feels like a lifetime ago.

"elysia." the syllables escape him as if he has been holding in a prayer he hadn't known he was saying. closer this time he looks at her, taking in the unfurled curls that spill like onyx in the dim firelight in the mountain. "i did not know you'd be here but i'm glad at least now i know you're still breathing."

they should be going. now does not seem like the best of times to be catching up with an old friend.

"we should move."

Seconds slink past like years, ambling and long as Elysia holds onto the peregryn. She’s unable to gain enough purchase with one hand to feel comfortable releasing her other in an attempt to stab them. So she holds on in an attempt to delay them. To distract them. To give someone else an opportunity to strike them down. Even as they claw at her, frantically flapping their wings and trying to free themselves of her, Elysia holds on. She just needs to provide a window – an opportunity for someone to take aim. And someone does. She doesn’t see the warrior below draw the spear or release it, but she felt the way it pierced the armor of the peregryn, the point protruding out their back, barely skimming her side as she holds on. And then she’s falling as the soldier drops out of the air like a shot bird.

It happens too fast for her to think before releasing her grip several feet from the ground, landing, for the second time in this battle, on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs. Even that is a better fate than what awaited her when the peregryn crashes onto a pile of debris, bones shattering with he sudden impact. It takes the High Priestess a moment to feel like she can inhale again. Lungs scream as she gasps for air like she’s been holding her breath, rolling onto her side, pushing aside the glancing sting that lingers as she coughs. 

She doesn’t notice the hand that’s proffered to her until she opens her eyes a moment later and glances up into a vaguely familiar face. Relief almost turns into a scowl when she realizes that he must’ve been the one to shoot down the peregryn. That is what she’d wanted someone to do, isn’t it? Admittedly, she hadn’t thought much beyond that, or to the fact that, clinging to their back, if they went down, so did she. Still, she accepts the hand for a moment, clambering to her feet with a slight wince. “Thank you. Your aim was quite precise.” Said with a hint of sarcasm (had she been holding on an inch or so more to the left, she might not be having this conversation) as she glances around her for her sai blades. She must’ve dropped them in the fall. “Valerian, no? Land Commander of the Summer Court?” Elysia recognizes him as such now that he was in proximity and recalls making his acquaintance at a solstice party many years ago now. 

#elysia.valerian 001

[warbidden]

wnterstcrms:

.

Paths had crossed with many fae since the beginning of his meager existence whether Tristan had been aware of it or not. They had been in the crowd where a fast fingered father dips hands into pockets as the child that once was performed playing an instrument and dancing to entertain those that gathered in this square or that in the villages they wandered. A juvenile’s gaze would not know how to place them, the iron tang of magic was too akin to the thick sickly smell of blood and even grown Fae could play tricks that could boggle and shatter a humans perception of the world and their own selves let alone know to remember their faces. Still, even with a life experience such as his own, even with magic glamoring half the world to hide its truths and dangers in a similar cover - he would know the figure of a fae he fought beside before, of a man who helped others between borders escaping the worst and had assisted even Tristan’s family.

“I can, too well” Tristan stated, a glimmer of recognition flashing through his eyes at the nod of a head. Extending his arm briefly he showed the sword, tossed to him by another summer court fae and a woman who ought to be called queen, raising it in acknowledgement of Valerian’s statement. “Not many of them fight. They will need all the assistance that can be mustered. Good to see you alive” The former warrior called, glancing over the larger figure  "I can be of some use, what is left for a former warrior but to drag out the beasts and fight them back?“

.

“You can, indeed,” Valerian said as he extended an arm out to clasp over the other’s. It was a good thing, he reminded himself, that there were still some who could withstand the forces of Hybern. And surely, this was the work of Hybern. Valerian has no real sense of how his cousin’s court came into play in all of this but Dawn... Malakai will need to answer for this in time. With a tight smile, he reigned his thoughts in and focused on the task at hand. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Tristan. One would think you’d have stayed behind in Autumn to make merry, not come here.” But he supposed Tristan would probably have wanted first row seats to witness history being made. Whatever the fact is, he was here now and Valerian was glad for it. He placed a reassuring hand on the former warrior’s shoulder and said with half grin, “So sorry that the Cauldron decided that your retirement was to be cut short. Unfortunately, we’ll need your talents in our arsenal once again. We—”

For a moment Valerian’s lips parted to continue but in a flash it turned into a snarl as a slither of nagas launched an incursion. A surprise attack. They were waiting—just biding their time. No wonder the corridor was littered with bodies. "Kill them." Was all he said to Tristan.

#tristan.valerian 001

[warbidden]

LAN MANDRAGORAN in THE WHEEL OF TIME | 1.04 “The Dragon Reborn”

#// visuals on valerian because yes

[warbidden]

the beat of feathered wings when coupled with the clang of metal bears an uncanny echo. valerian had separated from from seren and leander not too long ago and has now found himself half spent against a group of peregryn. his breath is laboured but not so much that he could do nothing against the hostile party. he had tried to reason with them earlier, if only to catch a moment's rest, but his attempt at diplomacy fell on deaf ears in the interim. and rightly so. valerian did not possess the gift of a silver tongue. in fact, what he did say to them sounded much more like a threat.

though now, with a sword in hand and a spear in the other, valerian is beginning to regret even opening his mouth. it should have been strike first, talk later.

but he is not unfamiliar with fights like this. valerian and his company were at the forefront where the war was thickest. he had spent hours on the battleground plowing through enemies like a scythe through a field, hot blood and gore raining down on him like drops of rubies and then weighing on him as he left a trail of bodies in his wake. but here, in close quarters and under the mountain, it feels different. the air is fetid and almost suffocating even as they maneuver into an open chamber. with a clever spin and a twist of his spear, valerian manages to slice open the chest of a peregryn and push the remaining four back a reasonable breadth.

then just as he is about to lunge, the commotion above him pulls their attentions but valerian is nothing if not quick as an adder as he takes advantage of the distraction and throws his spear through two of his winged kin.

still, as he wonders what or who has come to his aid, he adjusts his grip on his sword and readies himself for the oncoming attack.

+ VALERIAN 

Time washes over her like waves to the shore. The High Priestess is well aware how fast everything is moving around her but can’t help but feel the moments slow down as she’s confronted by all manner of beast and dark fae. There’s an urgency to find her high lord, to assist him in any way she can, even as she continues to feel the absence of her magic. Of the Mother. Her connection to the Cauldron seemingly absent, like a ghost limb haunting her every movement. But she persists. She is a high priestess of Prythian, of the Day Court, and even without her anchors, Elysia is not someone to be underestimated in a fight. There’s something feral about her when violence becomes the only answer, something so primal it scares her. She becomes that young girl again, clawing for life and willing herself to live no matter the cost. There’s no thought, just gut-wrenching intuition.

Even now, she doesn’t think, breathing labored with exhaustion and face caked with her own blood and that of enemies. She’s given up a dagger to Catrin, ushering the Cauldron born high fae to safety and now she finds herself, still clutching her sai blades and on a balcony overlooking the throne room immersed in chaos below. She’d fought a dark fae up the stairs and pants for breath as she wipes sweat-beaded brows. Eyes track the few familiar faces she can make out from her vantage point, and spots one whom she vaguely recognizes combating several opponents at once. 

Though reason would say that he can handle himself, evident by swift and brutal movement, her keen eyes catch the peregryn swiftly approaching from above, blade ready to ambush while the Summer Court commander is occupied. Elysia doesn’t think twice. Centuries of instinct kick into overdrive as she leaps from her purchase on the balcony, crashing and grappling onto the Dawn Court’s aerial soldier mid-flight. If anything, the only thought she has is that she hopes it buys him more time as she struggles to keep purchase on their back amidst wings and armor as the traitor attempts to shake her off. She’s unable to stab with her blades, but they can’t reach her around back with theirs.  Can they shake her? Can she hold on? It becomes a battle of wills. @warbidden

#elysia.valerian 001

[warbidden]

.

Leander’s heart is a wardrum in his chest, pounding in a steady, forceful beat with each moment that passes. From the moment the mortal queen’s body hits the ground, time warps. It feels like he’s been fighting back all manner of dark creatures for an age, but also for mere minutes. He’s in search of his family and friends when a Naga nearly sinks its teeth into him were it not for an annoying familiar face. “Valerian,” he replies with a scornful smile, nodding at Seren beside returning his gaze to the Summer Court captain. “How astute. You know, it actually was my idea to unleash all manner of hell,” said as he moves to the left of an approaching naga, “while my entire court is still here.” Lee dodges an attack, both his blades crossed in a momentary shield as he snarks. “You’ve caught me out,” he rolls his eyes, drawing up his sword as another naga lunges towards them. “On your right!” The General calls a warning to Seren. @xstarforged​

#leander.valerian 001 #seren.valerian 001

[warbidden]

setting: the blanket of fear and despair that settled over them all was almost tangible. it carried the smell of iron in the air and the cold touch of a compatriot's lifeless hands. eyes were devoid of hope, until valerian met @wnterstcrms' ( present: tristan hao )

Upon discovering a small group of mortals huddled in a shoddily hidden alcove, Valerian and two of his guards instructs them to quietly make their way up the winding stairways nearby, away from the chaos of the throne room. It has been hours since the nullifying effects of faebane held his powers in a hangman's noose and the consequence of it was catching up.

Whether he liked it or not, Valerian was in a weakened state, as were all the other members of the courts. The onset of the insurgence will prove to be not their biggest obstacle yet—it would be the aftermath. He feared that their unknown enemy was regrouping and readying for another wave of attack which would only further sunder the courts in their vulnerable states.

"How many of you know how to fight?" The commander asked, his voice hushed but assertive. "Those of you who do, find a weapon." They were spoilt for choice as the group rounded a passageway littered with fae and mortal corpses. Footsteps sounded just beyond an entryway only for Valerian to breathe a short sigh of relief to find that they belonged to a familiar face. Tristan Hao.

#tristan.valerian 001 #// bs-ing my way through to safety lol

[warbidden]

setting : nothing, save for the glimmer of stars and waxing moon in the sky illuminates the blood stricken earth as two faes, both from ancient and powerful houses, start to come to grips over a mortal woman, @epithvts.

Bodies begun to pile as soon as the light in the throne room seemed to all but vanish. It was a dastardly trick—Valerian could not believe his eyes as he witnessed peregryns turning on their kin. Without hesitation, he held back the onslaught, calling out instructions to his men to bring down whatever foul beasts emerged and whoever stood in their way. They had to get their High Lord and Ladies of Summer away safely.

In the pandemonium, Valerian caught the panic-stricken look on a defenseless mortal woman who'd tripped over an unconscious nymph. A peregryn stood over her—Caius. Valerian had known him, befriended him but duty demanded he put his personal reservations aside and do what what best for the Prythian. Begrudgingly, he slashed the back of his friend, effectively cutting through a feathered wing before Caius could further harm the red-head.

"Why are you doing this?" Valerian roared at the peregryn, yet only received a crazed charge in return.

In one smooth motion, the Summer Commander managed to overpower and disarm the injured peregryn. Realising the mortal human was still watching them, Valerian yelled at her. "Find your wits, girl! Do you know how to get out of here?"

#cerys.valerian 001 #// please do not match! 😅

[warbidden]

setting: amid the sudden chaos, the air turned fetid. monsters unmasked their red mouths like lacerated animals liberated of their collars of high fae skins. they howled and screamed while swiftly, they befell tragedy on man and faerie. in the carmine fury of a sea of warbringers were valerian and @xstarforged falling into the steps of the death waltz they were so used to. in the moment, they would discover the designs of the mother willed them as tentatively allies with @ofwrxth as their blades drew against each tide of resistance in synced, fluid motions.

"First to flay the naga buys the other a deer mount for their wall." The quip fell naturally out his mouth. Had it not been Seren at his back, the banter would be the last thing on his mind. But because it had been Seren, there was no need for Valerian to specify who would likely be awarded the atrocious piece. Still, no matter how much he tried center himself, apprehension slipped into his syllables as he said to her, "How the fuck did we miss this?"

A loud screech of pain demanded the commander's attention as he turned just in time to see two more nagas moving to flank the General of the Winter Court. While Valerian knew better than to come between a Lord and his kill, he also knew there was strength in numbers. With precision, he threw his sword up, effectively shielding other fae from the naga's attack. Easily, the three of them fell into formation.

"Leander," the acknowledgment was terse seeing as to how relations with the Winter court were...complex. "I truly hope this was not your doing."

#leander.valerian 001 #seren.valerian 001 #// let me know if something doesn't work! <3

[warbidden]

"Oh but death has a face, and it's everyone you've ever loved." - LHZ, An excerpt from This Anatomy of Melancholy

[warbidden]

I know how furiously your heart is beating.

Wallace Stevens, Collected Poems; from 'Gray Room'

#// i mean... val @ veila

[warbidden]

"i'd like to see you try." both truth and taunt lace the words equally. what would it take for either one of them to give up first? only time would tell. step for step, they've matched each other thus far and neither one of them seemed willing to veer off pace, always needing to one up the other. if the tone of the rest of their stay under the mountain is to be set, it would not be by this female.

but for the first time in her presence, valerian feels amusement bubbling. a deep rumbling sounds from the back of his throat and if she only turned around, she'd see the sides of his mouth lifted into—no, he wouldn't call it a smile. perhaps a smirk or a grin, yes. it's inconceivable that any of her comments should make him smile or laugh but here he stands, unable to rid himself of the slight shake of his shoulders until he clears his throat. "okay, fine. you would be the authority on that subject." temperance enters now, but mirth still dances in the light in his eyes as he turns away to put some distance between them.

it's been no kept secret, his family's migration. his parents had brought along with them a few followers, those who would not stomach standing by as the world got eaten raw. "only you would think that of dawn." because only the dawn court could turn neutrality into a profitable industry with a strong lobbying arm. their healers were needed everywhere. "but i don't know why we can't be civil. do i need to take it upon myself to teach you how to ask nicely?"

the night following the battle where she realized who he was to her had been a torment. her skin had turned sweat slicked, sheets rumpled from how much she'd tossed and turned, begging her mind to forget the way his gaze had burned into hers and marked her like a brand. she supposed he may as well have considering what had snapped into place that day, and the scent he'd left on her that anyone could recognize if they only knew the both of them. it was things like that that left veila truly resenting some of their fae instincts. she could do without some of the looks tossed her way as if she were some simpering fool with no choice in the matter.

her chin raises slightly as he turns to face her, icy blue hues locking on him as her head tilts back just so. "would you rather i make you?" she's knocked down men for far less, and she's certain she could come up with some sort of alibi or excuse as to why she'd started a fight despite the rule they're all bound to. despite that, she knows that she could never go through with it. not when it's him . "it's the autumn court that's full of snakes, not winter. i do not hiss." her face is blessedly still unphased when she steps past him, fingers trailing along the spines until she finds the one she'd been looking for. "if you wanted niceties, perhaps you should have stayed in the dawn court. or just stop popping up in the places i need to be."

#veila.valerian 001

[warbidden]

Even with the quiet discussion surrounding him, Valerian could still make out the faint murmurs coming from around the corner. His officers were on edge and understandably so. While they were among friendly company, they were also essentially trapped under the mountain with their enemies for no telling how long. Even if the war had ended a month ago, peace was still a tentative notion riding on the back of thousands of years of quarrels and disputes among the courts if not outright animosity. Old wounds run deep and wounds that were open over and over again, even more so.

There was no need for Valerian to signal his men to halt their debate since they were a tight unit and already attuned to each other's silent cues. But as they rounded the corner, a faint tug lifted his lips as one of them had let out a sigh of relief at the sight of a seemingly harmless fae. Recognition flashed across Valerian's face. He'd seen her before, tending to the sick and wounded—swear that she had even tended to him too at some point.

"Hello. Are yo-" he started but as he looked around, he saw no one else. "Who were you talking to?"

open starter !

location: the halls under the mountain ( just clove stealing a whole plant )

“How do you grow here sweet plant, all alone in the dark? They ought to bring you sunlight sweet, growing thing - especially if the other healers here expect to treat any cuts or bruises with you any time soon. The healing ability comes from how strong you grow and if you are weak little herb, how will you perform small miracles? The cooks must have stripped you down for some roast, sweet rosemary. Do forgive me for taking away from you too but the few leaves i take will help with a special drink. One for the nerves I know many will need” Clove spoke lovingly to the potted herb they had obsconded with from the vast kitchens. Delicate fingers traced the soft leaves knowing it was likely the high fae would keep it, taking it with them back home to put it in their garden where it would be adequately appreciated. Clove would replace its pot with rich soil and it would drink up the sun and know what it was to breath in the dawn court. While the gentle glide of finger tips touched the herb, Clove paused. Setting down the potted herb, the one perhaps the kitchens missed Clove bowed their head hearing approaching footsteps moving to the wall hoping it would not be so obvious that they were rescuing this plant or that they intended to make a rosemary tea to calm the nerves of a handful of fae. 

#clove.valerian 001