Northstar Vale the wish i whispered when it all began – (dmn?)

8th January wowow

Melitse had informed her of the heated @Cupid;
and though she cannot recall percisely when he had told her so, the faltering fairylight strode with ... step through the rumored climes that the cherub so inhibitated. Without sleep and with a siren's skirmish, ridden and made ragdoll by the potency of magicked power ever-brimming  –  Undómiel is withering, welted hunchspine and hide hedged with the dishevelment that comes with a dwindling, faded fury not at all suited for its hosting, haggard vessel.

Still  —  there is enough intent in her step; enough an enquiring trill as she draws herself o'er the rises to where she believes him to most recently be:  “Aksva?”

cameo, assuming andy doesn't kill her in this thread.

the temptress stood just out of sight, watching andraste's approach. she called for an aksva, a title not yet heard by the siren. each step taken by the undómiel was matched, made with precision so as to not be heard. 

kalika would watch from her hiding place, studying the leader's techniques in handling whatever situation was at hand.

Nighttime did little to rest his racing thoughts. No sleep came, tense muscles did not uncoil. Cupid was awake, pacing around, battling with the little voice in his head. There is no baby. Nothing, nothing..

Aksva? this along with the wisp’s footfalls bring him back to reality, violently so. He whips around to her, wide eyed, bedraggled. Not the blissful Cupid he was only days before.

Uh, yeah, hey what's up. The words came out in a jumbled mess. It wasn't like Cupid took notice. Hell he barely took notice of the leader, not to mention this unfamiliar attitude.

whats sleep idk her but i gope rhis post is in englidh if not olease dont sebd me to mtbkrsdfs

Perhaps she might be tempered, this hour, if only because the mad-caged creature within her sees the dishevelement of her Aksva and the cauldron of her gaze is melted hesitancy. Perhaps she might not seize the base of his skull and cant wildling hips through winterbit airs as if meaning to claim the very clouds, herself. She is fraying, she supposes, and must come out with it before she weakens further:  "I have been told of your ... time spent from ze Court."  Made herself sit; to soften before the cherub and await with expectant eyes, however eased they might be at the sight of seeing him safe  (if not well.)

To the horrors afester within him  —  "I am ears, if you wish to recite for me, Cupid."

Have you? A breath hitches in his throat and he can speak no more. It was already bad enough he'd been thinking about the little trip all last night and throughout the day, now he was urged to speak about it? Even if he wanted to he doubted he could bring himself to do so.

No. The dismissal is quick and sharp, almost subconscious. It took him a moment to realize the edge in his tone and he tried to brush it off with a little laugh. It was nothing. Really. Just— just a trip.

How to else to breach the subject that had come with Melkor's enlightenment? The fée was not at all sure what she must feel in this moment; could not take quill to parchment and scribble down all that she coukd not keep up with that listed within the vessel of her. And, then  — the evidence of it all was in the ambrosial pique that wafted her way. Pink nostrils flared, at the fragrance, the fear found therein. She could not possibly reprimand her own Aksva ... and perhaps she might seem weakling, to offer that which she did to one who had acted out so willfully:

"I will allow you to stay within our realm, Cupid,"  musing quiet,  "for as long a time as you need to adjust."

Adjust? He chuckled, this time more quiet than the last, more unsure. I'm all good here. Couldn't she see that? Sure he was in a sort of delusional state and it showed too. Heavy lids, quiet speech, low hanging shoulders. But there was still a glimpse of his usual self within the disheveled heap right? It probably wasn't, but Cupid couldn't see that.

I like this place. A comment, no, a lie to himself. It was the only thing that could possibly keep him from overthinking her statement. It wasn't doing a very good job. His eyes went to a barren spot on the ground to Andraste. What do you mean by adjust?

It was compassion, not chagrin, she supposes, that knits the scarification of Undómiel's brow; there is the very real possibility that Cupid  (from the behavior which her tundrian had defined as best as he could to her)  still was amidst the accursed captivation of denial; of disbelief, and knew not how to conduct himself before her. Perhaps it did not matter whether or not she were Undómiel or Aiano, even  –  and so sought to remedy this situation in one of the few ways she could glean how.

The fée does not address this; not directly, at least, but does deign to approach him in such a manner; moving with a steadied step and, when near enough (and if Aksva would allow her, of course) would reach for the taller of the pair and tuck her scarred snout with some quiet thing settled into her bearing. Whether he wishes to press closer to her is choice. In the meantime, gentled:  “As with everything in life, we are never truly prepared. This ... uncertainty you face, I know it. Not all of it, for I was not born with ze soul of sun-energy, of male, and yet ...”  sighing for his sake,  “ze Court is here for you, if you would have us, Cupid. For you, for ...”

No answer came, not in that moment at least. She does something completely unexpected: draws towards him and offers comfort in the form of an embrace. Cupid froze for a moment, truly shocked by the gesture. No one but his mother has ever shown him such affection. And god, that was so so long ago. And he never thought he'd feel such warmth again. Yet here he was, on a mountain he did not belong on with a woman he barely knew. She did not need to do this, but she did anyways. And for a  moment Cupid's mind was clear. For that, he was grateful and he melted in that solace.

That moment was fleeting, like every good thing from the week, in his life. His heart raced as he was reminded of the things we wished to forget and things he didn't even think about until now. First the baby, now his body. Dear god, he couldn't take it.

Is there... His voice trailed off. He wanted to say something to calm his nerves, but he could not think of anything to steer the topic away from the future. What if I don't have a.. kid..? There was a glimmer of hope in his voice. He leaned back, looking at his leader like a child would look at a mother. Is it possible?