camelliafairchild-blog - Tumblr blog

[camelliafairchild-blog]

brielle → camellia.

Brielle: can't wait to see you! 😘

Camellia: Same right back to you. ☀️

[camelliafairchild-blog]

brielle → camellia.

Brielle: maybe we can meet there? around 3:30?

Brielle: i have something i gotta do really quick beforehand but i can make it by then

Camellia: That works with me. 🙋🏼

Camellia: I will wait by the entrance, and then we can venture in together? xx

[camelliafairchild-blog]

grayfox-redheart‌:

It was hard not to close his eyes as her warmth soaked into his skin, relaxing into the space they shared. He could fall asleep right there if he wanted to, but he didn’t. Not yet. Their time together seemed rarer with each passing day, their grandiose plans hovering thundercloud-like on the horizon, and he’d be damned if he was going to miss even a minute of it.

He couldn’t help but grin when he felt her lips against his skin, tucking her in close. When she’d settled in, he leaned his head against hers, her silky hair soft against his cheek’s light stubble. As she spoke, he rubbed his cheek back and forth lightly, then turned and buried his nose in her hair, letting her scent flood his senses. Though he’d smelled it countless times, it never became dull or average. Every time was as good as the first.

He could’ve said “I needed it too,” but he didn’t have to. In moments like these, it seemed they understood each other almost implicitly. The warmth of their bodies together, the press of his fingertips forming crescent moons on her upper arm as he held her close, was answer enough.

“True, it would be hubris to think that we’re the only ones of our kind.” He looked up at the sky again, watched the stars twinkle, wondered if Camellia was looking at the same ones he was. “Just imagine: each of them with their own culture, their customs, music and dance and art—” his words were quick now, tumbling from his lips with the excitement of a child. “Whole worlds waiting to be discovered, and we’ll never know anything about them. But maybe that’s a good thing.”

He frowned momentarily, then batted away the thought. There was no need to go to those dark places here; there would be plenty of time for that later.

“I think they would, and they wouldn’t. We’re so much more than kindness and cruelty. We’re greed and selfishness, but we’re also ambition and compassion and generosity. We’re all the plastic in the ocean and the smog in the sky, but we’re the ones cleaning it up, too. I have to believe they’d see that. Maybe they’d see us the way I do. Not perfect—not by a long shot—but worth fighting for.”

His gaze flitted between glimmers, imagining that far-flung shining something at humanity’s core, chased endlessly, yet always just out of reach. If he squinted hard enough, he could almost see it, a long star shooting across the sky, begging him to believe.

“To be alive is to wish, to dream. Even the flowers wish for sunlight, love it so much that they reach for it. The cat may not have the words to wish for a full belly, but it seeks one all the same.”

Everything they did was natural, second nature to them both. Their bodies moved and turned with one another’s, without words to ask for what they needed. It was instinctual, and now, more than ever, Camellia was grateful for that. When there was a great deal of complexity in the world, having a solid place to return to was of great benefit.

His fingers pressed against her skin and his face was buried in her hair, and there was no second-guessing with him. Just as had once been the case with Lark, when she had been able to call upon either one of them and escape into their worlds, in many ways more beautiful than the human world and in some cases, even more so than the feyry realm.

“We may be the only proper fey, but I doubt we are the only living beings, the only ones who have culture and history.” She grabbed his hand with her right one, stroking the space between his thumb and forefinger with her own thumb. A simple movement, but one she’d done for as long as she could remember, even back when they looked much further apart in age than they did now. 

“Maybe that is a good thing. It means that they are safer from what our world - or the human world - both, perhaps?” She pursed her lips in confusion, for a moment. “It means they can thrive, perhaps in ways we cannot. But I believe we can always find something bright.” Camellia was glad that she was able to talk about things like this with Jasper - that her views of finding brightness in the dark were not looked down upon by him in the way of some others in her Court.

After another moment, she found herself looking up at him with more than a bit of awe. “Well, more of the world could do with seeing the world in the way that you do.” She bit her lower lip and let a small blush creep over her cheeks as she buried her face into his chest. After a few moments, she looked up again at him, grinning. 

“Wishing is, inherently natural. It is something that is part of all of us. Stories have been written about it, as have songs. It is something present at our very core.” A pause. “However, if you will forgive me being terribly cliché, my wishes,” most of them, “for friendship and homes have already come true.”

a place among the stars

[camelliafairchild-blog]

hyacinth-fairfield‌:

Hyacinth is well aware of the personal power that the princess possesses, and knew of the dangers of her sharing his despair and possibly turning it into a liquid form of sadness. Her tears are poison, and he figured she is doing everything she could to cage her emotions and never let the poison seep out of her. The knight believed it very admirable about her – her thoughtfulness, the way she would put thoughts of others before her own self. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking as he let himself fall into a pit of despair. This was something he’d have never thought of doing in front of her mother, the iron queen Lacha. The queen might have looked at him in disdain, might have been disappointed at such a show of weakness. He sat beside her and silently, he let the tears fall. Silence befell them in long stretches, half-comfortable, the other half simply filled with the melancholy of his heartache. In time, the river of tears ceased to flow, and he found he felt slightly better.  “Cathartic,” he spoke finally, voice low and cracking still. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Shedding tears is cathartic, I’m only sorry you are not able to do that sometimes,” Hyacinth mused. He wiped the tiny drops of tears left on his face, and turned to her. “If you don’t mind….I’ve always wanted to know,” he began, tentative, wondering if he should say anything at all, but too late to turn back now.  “How is it like? Dealing with your power?” 

Sitting with him was oddly calming, despite it being his emotions that she had just experienced. She was grateful for friendship, for everything he had given the Court for years. Since ages before she was born - and she hoped that he would live on to see her reign. Because moments like these, when they were just there, just sitting, with only a few words exchanged between the two of them, meant more than he could ever know.

“You are welcome.” She replied, tasting her lipgloss as her tongue brushed lightly over her lips at the completion of the word. She would never be disappointed in any sort of emotion that he showed - that anyone showed. They were all valid, even the crueler ones (and it was only the crueler ones that she would look upon with less favor, cruel in the delight of another’s pain - she could be ice without delighting in another’s pain, couldn’t she?).

She wrapped her arm around his, a solid reminder that she was there, that she would not go anywhere, not until she was certain he was ready to move, to go about his day. Caring was of vital importance to her, and even as she grew with Rowan’s lessons, she doubted that would (or could) ever be fully removed from her being.

“It is okay. I am glad it can be cathartic.” She looked at him. “You do not need to be sorry.” She would not ever fault someone for having an ability she did not. Besides, she could cry - but it resulted in far more terror than she wished. For both herself and anyone near her, who caught her tears on their body.

“Which one?” She said, in a half-hearted attempt at a joke. “I am assuming, based on your prior comment, that you mean personal. Not my Hand.” She brushed her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Intense. Given the breadth of subjects I have studied and words I know, I ought to have a better word, but that is the first that comes to mind. It has become easier as I have grown, but it is never easy.” Tears desperate to be shed. A flash back to the morning after Beltaine, when she’d spent the entire day in bed, her face buried in her pillow, refusing to let herself cry at the waves of memories that practically drowned her.

[camelliafairchild-blog]

She didn’t usually venture up to Central Park. Of course, she found it lovely - but it was Seelie territory, and though she appreciated the Zoo and the atmosphere of the park, venturing up too frequently would more than likely turn more than a few heads - and not in the way Camellia might have preferred to. The nearing-autumn day did not feel quite as much like autumn as Camellia wished for, there were hints of it in the air.

She heard a voice that was familiar - not incredibly so, but one that she could pick out. Kaitlin. Sean’s kinder equivalent although on the opposite side. How Camellia wished (though she knew it naïve and not wholly right) that both Kaitlin and Hazel could have belonged to the Unseelie. They, like Willow, seemed to not be the sort to hate Camellia right away, just because of where she was from. “They can be lovely.” A smile crossed her lips. “It sort of feels as though you are transported to another place - another time, even. If you allow yourself to believe it.”

when:  3rd september 2018, 18:05pm where: central park, by the lake who: open to all 

Although Kaitlin was a girl made for summer, bare-footed adventures and days without end, she had to admit, there was a certain fondness in her heart for fall, in seeing the cyclic nature of the world come to a close. It was a reminder that the world was a living, breathing entity - and that they were all alive within it. Central Park wasn’t beautiful like the Seelie realm, but it held a charm of its own…a certain mystic romance about it. After all, there had to be a reason so many romantic comedies had set themselves here. A magic without being magic? No, she thought sadly, there is only one magic - and it is beyond my touch. 

Wrapping her hands a little tighter around her coffee cup (pumpkin spiced latte, of course), she stared out to the boats, bobbing tourist couples, breathing wistfully. “I know it’s sort of cliche. And very overpriced. But I’ve always wanted to go there.”

[camelliafairchild-blog]

nickclas‌:

“Camellia,” Nickel said, immediately. “Make more sense in the city, it’d be weird to call you princess some places and not others. Not that it’s hard. Just a little extra complicated.” 

He cast a glance out at Tara. There were still people milling about. There were relatively few fires nearby. Those he could hear were surrounded by room-tone silence. You could feel it, though. There was a shiver in the room, the minute when people started to talk.

“Better if I don’t,” Nickel said, making the final call. “I know, I know … you’re right, people talk. People expect me to go with other people to places. But what’s really strange is just walking around Tara, quietly talking. That looks weird on me, the way running off’ll look weird on you, right? Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Just as I call you Nick in the city. It would be a bit odd to call you Nickel, no matter how much that is your given name.” She scrunched up her nose. “Camellia is fine in any and all cases. It is well-established that I am the princess, most all are aware of that, it feels a bit redundant to say it always.” After a small pause, Camellia added, “Besides, if those of our Court wish to not respect me, forcing them to call me Princess will not win over that respect.”

She looked up at him. She was still unsure if she could call him a friend (though more than part of her wished to), but she appreciated his perspective, appreciated his understanding. “That’s true.” She said, finally. Readjusted her clothing, took another glance out at Tara to see if anyone was especially keen on watching what the two of them were ip to.

“Of course. Of course I would look out, there is no need to thank me.” It is my job in many ways, is it not? To look out for my Court’s well-being, though I would do it regardless. “Do you have any other fun plans for the evening? Here or back in the human world?”

[camelliafairchild-blog]

iambecomcdeath‌:

Rowan didn’t know what she expected. Or what she wanted, either, for that matter. She didn’t want pity and she wasn’t given any, but the emotions for which Camellia was notoriously known weren’t pouring out of her, either. Rowan sat there, hands snaking through her own hair, burying her face away from the younger fey, almost repulsed by how much she’d shared. She pulled away. She’d given up so much of herself and while she knew that Camellia experienced those same emotions she herself felt, she still felt a million miles away.

For once, this wasn’t about Camellia. It wasn’t about trying to make her a stronger person, a better person, a better ruler. It was about Rowan and for once in her life she wanted someone to move the hair out of her face and commiserate. To give back to her, after all the sacrifices and giving she’d done, the duties she’d always fulfill, the promises she’d always keep. She’d given until she was this empty. No one poured anything into her any more. Only Caora was that to Rowan and she was long gone. There was no one left to understand her in the same way. No one left to be proud of her. No one left who knew how to comfort her. To say something to make it all okay enough to go on for another day. 

And somehow all of those feelings made everything worse.

“I—I—this was a mistake.” Rowan should have given Camellia something back, some thank you for trying, but she could barely get words out. Her whole life was flashing in front of her and she just had to trust that somehow the magic would take care of itself without her. Camellia’s firmness was a good thing in a ruler and she felt the smallest tug of awareness of the change, but it was dwarfed by the monumental aching chasm inside of her own chest. “You mention this to no one.” She tried to get up to go, but her feet weren’t yet cooperating beneath her.

She couldn’t help but feel every single emotion wash over her - and it was a lot. Because when specifically asked to take on emotions, she usually let her guard down further, let herself become immersed in the emotions much like (in a horribly clichéd way, she thought) being immersed in water. Though there were times when she would certainly prefer the latter to the former.

Water always made sense, and emotions did not.

Part of her almost wavered as Rowan’s emotions surrounded her, filled her every being. But she had to be strong - and even if Rowan wanted some level of sympathy, Camellia was not most certain on how to go about with it - because Rowan was complicated, and a hug or even a squeezing of their hands might cause a more extreme reaction than she wished. So she stood there, not moving, not scared away by all the emotions the other was experiencing. 

“It was not.” She replied, looking at her. Had it been anybody else, she would have wrapped her arms around them, but with Rowan, she still avoided it. “This stays between us, you have my word.” Rowan seemed unable to move, and Camellia shook her head. “Do not leave yet.” She adjusted herself, staying near the other. “You will be valued, regardless. We will get back what the world has chosen to take from the Courts.” A pause, a breath. “We must.” 

Leap of Faith

[camelliafairchild-blog]

brielle → camellia.

Brielle: you know i'm always down for a bite to eat!

Brielle: do you wanna head to the aquarium together or meet there?

Camellia: Which would you prefer? I would be happy to go with you, but we can also meet there, should that be easier for you to manage. xx

[camelliafairchild-blog]

iambecomcdeath‌:

I will not allow harm to come to the Court, she said. Rowan couldn’t help it: she laughed out loud. It was curt and it was callous, but someone had to help this once and future Queen, should she live to claim her birthright. Oh, Caora, if only you could see me now: teaching your little sister all the backbone you had along with your graces, Rowan thought, making fun of herself in her head. She was far from the best person to be doing this. The downtrodden look that eventually would claim Camellia’s face—whether that be now, or later—when talking to Rowan would eventually emerge. She was a series of difficulties; that’s what she was. “Sweetheart, you’d best learn more than one definition of harm,” Rowan said after her bark of laughter. “There is a difference between good intentions and right actions.”

Rowan raised a brow when Camellia mentioned the Tithe. “No, that’s not what I’d been thinking, but that, too. You will have to decide which of us dies. What makes us worthy of a death to the Horde. You cannot not do that. Just as you can’t not enforce rules. The rules keep all of us safe—all of us—even if it is at the expense of a few who chafe against them.” Rowan exhaled sharply and tried to think of a way to phrase it better. “Okay, you fear for your life, as your sister did. There is no way you have not. But—that’s a lesson itself, a lesson all royals have to learn because it is part of your blood. It is who you are. You are a sacral princess. A—conduit, like me. All power, in order to not be corrupted, requires responsibility, death, and sacrifice. You have to learn your own death, your own risk, to ever understand the mantle of power.” She searched Camellia’s face for understanding.

Was that the switch? Ro wondered, having never entertained it before. Is that what made an heir worthy of receiving their ruling Hand: their understanding of this concept? She didn’t know. She only knew that it was true: that to rule justly, you had to know you could die. That your very survival to the crown was a risk with a reward, not a promise, not an entitlement. That in order to pass such judgements, choose such deaths, in others required that you understand the gravity of the gift of your own life. “I trust your mother with my life; I am sure she will teach you well. As for me, I’m an advisor you inherit whether I will it or no, should I live to see your reign.” Beyond that, Rowan couldn’t promise much at this point. This slip of a girl who’d barely seen the world wanting to assume an iron crown already almost missed the mark: Rowan ached for the days she never saw, where she could be free to enjoy, before her mantle.

When Camellia sucked in her lower lip, Rowan hitched up a corner of her mouth into a half-grimace. “Listen, there’s a difference between causing fear and creating it. No one is asking you to be a monster like me. You don’t have to create fear. But as a ruler, you will cause it. It is inevitable and trying to escape it will only weaken you to those who would take advantage.” Rowan paused for a long while. “I think this is the longest I’ve ever gone without cursing. It’s—wild, honestly.” It was also the longest time she’d strung as many words together, but something in her wanted to help save this girl from herself and help her become a shadow of the woman her sister had been. A different person, but with some of those echoes, some of what Rowan had ached to see on the throne. 

Her eyes grew wide at Rowan’s laughter, and some part of her felt an intense sting. Yet perhaps it was not done cruelly - Camellia and long held the suspicion that Rowan was not nearly as cruel as she liked to make others think. Camellia was aware that that could easily have just been her desperate wish for everyone to have some light in them (because light could exist in darkness, that was not at all a solely Seelie trait). She tucked a wet strand of hair behind an ear and looked up at Rowan. “I am aware. I still do not wish to ever do any sort of harm to our Court.” A true wish, despite Jasper’s current plans. She did not want to do harm, she just wanted to see her day as Queen, to see what beauty and strength she herself could bring to the Court.

“I am aware, and I promise you,” she set her eyes straight on Rowan, “I will enforce rules.” She would - she was soft, but even ice could be soft in some ways - welcoming in the cold, letting light shine through only as it chose. Selective with the light it brought it, selective with how it remained sharp. Camellia believed that with her whole heart, just as she knew that she would do rules just as she saw fit. She was not keen on letting anyone take advantage of her softness (an ironic thing, if she were more aware of Peridot’s plans). She would prove anybody who had ever doubted her wrong.

She could be both her mother’s daughter and her grandmother’s granddaughter - taking the best parts that she could from each of them, and turning all of that into her own.

I will not die. I will not die. Words that had become more like a mantra as the years passed, and words that were always there, in the back of her mind. But she did not respond as such, respond like a petulant child she knew many of the Court thought her to still be, even as she was nearing her first half century. Just a year and a half away. She gave a nod to Rowan’s words. “I know Caora accepted her duty with bravery, and it is honorable that she did so. It is tradition, and it is expected should the Court need it, but I do hope we do not need it once again.” She paused. “At least I am blessed to believe that my mother would not throw away a Sacrifice just because.”

Another nod. “She does her very best to teach me. It is something I am deeply appreciative of, and though I had a few favored teachers, she was always my dearest. Is still, now that I no longer have proper tutors.” A glance away for a moment. “Rowan, I should very much hope you live to see my reign.” I should very much like to come into my reign within the next decade, if possible, but I will take another half century. I do not believe I am in as much of a rush as Jasper and Peridot are. Just so long as I do one day become Queen, I will be happy. Especially if it is before I am terribly old.

You are not a monster. She wanted to say, but still remained silent. “It is wild.” She wanted to laugh. Instead, she pressed her fingers into her ribs, through her raincoat. “I suppose, though I long to be adored, I would rather cause fear than disgust. Not that those are the only to options available to me, but should I ever have to choose, it would be fear over disgust each time.”

[camelliafairchild-blog]

brielle → camellia.

Brielle: hmmm i don't know

Brielle: something fun!! aquarium?

Brielle: i watched a shark documentary last night, i need to tell the sharks i love them!

Camellia: I do love any excuse to be closer to water.

Camellia: I would not mind telling some of the animals that I love them. Would you like to get a bite to eat afterwards?

[camelliafairchild-blog]

whyvette‌:

“Oh!” Yvette said. She winced, instinctively, but Camellia had stated it so factually that Yvette realized it was meant to be kind, a sort of camaraderie, perhaps. She wondered if there was the same sort of … she didn’t want to use the word venom, but that was what came to mind. There was still poison in her parents’ mouths when they talked about each other. She believed she knew, down to the day, when it had first been introduced to their family. “I’m sorry. I mean–well, family is complicated, that’s what I mean.”

She refocused. “It was Grandma’s doing, mostly–my mom’s mother–she’s genuinely the kind of person who loves planning parties, and she has all my aunts and my mother to help her … when Grandpa was alive, he was apparently the sort of person who had a lot of acquaintances and clients and every year he’d have a winter party, with dancing and food. So Grandma got her practice in. A bunch of kids and their parents was like nothing to her. She–oh, I totally forgot about this–she actually called ahead and somehow got lunches set aside for us.”

Yvette smiled, her eyes going distant as they trained on the past. She shook her head slightly, trying to break loose from memory. “A lot less of that now–she’s older–and we’re all busy, or in school, or with kids of our own–not me, but my cousins for sure–I don’t know what the final count on great-grandchildren is for her. I’m obviously–I’m school. And I do love my topic.”  

“It is okay. Of course, given how young I am, some of me still wishes that they will mend their feelings and marry, but I also know that that can be perhaps far too naïve a wish for me to have.” Camellia wrinkled her nose. It was weird - very much so - to be discussing her parents’ relationship, or lack thereof, with anybody, much less a human. But perhaps that was why it was easier - because Yvette had no ties to her world, and so Camellia could just be, without any outside expectations or attempts at judgement.

“That all sounds lovely.” She let a small smile cross her lips. “Genuinely, truly. My family is so small, I have no siblings. No cousins I am close with, either.” She glanced up at Yvette. “But I am lucky to have some friends who are as good as family, which has to count for something, right?”

She let out a light laugh at Yvette’s continued comments. “Well, such is what can happen with growing up. Or at least so I have heard.” She looked at the other. “I am so glad you are loving your topic. Masters level, right? Or am I mistaken?” Another pause, a moment to gather some of her thoughts. “I would love to hear more about your studies sometime, if you want to share.”

[camelliafairchild-blog]

brielle → camellia.

Brielle: i saw a bed of white daisies this morning and thought of you! i miss you girly

Brielle: we need to catch up again soon. i offered to work a few extra days this week which is why i've been a little flaky

Brielle: but i'm free this afternoon after 2?

Camellia: Thank you, that made me smile. Miss you too. xx

Camellia: So long as you are working more on your own terms, I applaud you for doing so. I know I can get very busy at times, myself.

Camellia: I can certainly find myself free, too. What would you like to do?

[camelliafairchild-blog]

She was taking a brief break from her front-of-house hostess duties, instead making her way back toward the bar. In hopes that perhaps she could charm Hyacinth, Jasper, or Nickel into conversation with her. She understood very well that they had jobs to do, but she was their princess after all, which had to mean something.

Instead, she’d found a man by the bar - one who didn’t look familiar, and at his question, she flashed her very best hostess smile and gave a shrug. “If it is to your preference, you are welcome to it, but alcohol is a depressive, I believe. So it might make you tired. Or it might make you awake. You will not know unless you try. But, regardless, we do have a brilliant selection here.” She moved closer to him, looking up at him and adjusting her dress. “I cannot make one for you, as I am only hostess, but I am happy to chat with you until one of our bartenders is able to come over and help.”

where: the rookery when: september who: open

It had been a bloody long day for Knox. Hours had been spent in front of his computer screens compartmentalising both new and old information into their appropriate folders and sections. He was begging to think his eyes were going square after staring at them all day. So, he figured that he would kill two birds with one stone. Enjoying a decent liquor whilst scoping out his new location of interest. The Rookery. Knox’d heard among the grapevine of these so-called elixirs. They sounded far too feyry for just a regular street drug. Besides, Knox had deduced that he’d well and truly outlived his welcome at the casino. 

“Uhhh, scotch on the rocks.” His tone was light and almost intrigued, fingers thrumming against the bartop as his gaze worked its way around his immediate surroundings. He continued then, talking to no one in particular but it was offered to anyone in earshot. “Scotch helps you feel less exhausted, right?

[camelliafairchild-blog]

grayfox-redheart‌:

Jasper’s head turned as soon as he heard the door open. It was Camellia, of course, her grin nearly as bright as his own. As she approached, he scooched to one side of the lounge chair, unbalancing it and nearly falling off in the process. Righting himself with a laugh, he patted the unoccupied half of the chair and waited for her to sit before he balanced himself on its other edge.

“Well, it’s a theory I’m happy to test,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. With her warmth beside him, he already felt more relaxed, the worries of the day melting away as her heat leaked in. She had that effect on him. Maybe they had too much history between them to be anything other than understanding, or maybe it was because they knew eachother almost better than themselves. Perhaps it was something else entirely.

Jasper didn’t think about it too much. He didn’t believe in jinxes, but he did believe in self-fulfilling prophecies, and questioning something without a reason to sounded like the beginning of one.

The last time they’d been up here was for a volley of Perseids, huddled together under a blanket, watching meteors streak across the sky. He hoped they’d get a repeat show; knew they wouldn’t. But in the sparsely-clouded sky tonight, he knew there was plenty of wonder to be found.

“You ever think there’s anyone up there?” he asked, stealing a glance at her. She smelled of dewy grass and fresh-cut flowers, a summer breeze in the early morning. “Looking up at us, a little blue dot in the sky. Watching us. Wishing on us. Doubting our existence—or celebrating it.” He sighed. “Wonder what they wish for.”

She melted into him, just as she always did. As was entirely natural for the two of them. Snuggling her body against his chest, she cast a glance up at him. One of her other homes. Because home could be a person, sometimes even more so than it could be a place. They’d both known one another for such an incredibly long time - and despite all that, there were still aspects of herself that she kept from him. Perhaps it was unjust, given how much he gave to her - how much he showed her - but it was the way that she naturally was. Hiding certain facets of herself from practically everybody.

But right now was not the time to focus on that. She briefly pushed against his thigh with her foot, smiling at him as she did so. She could be young around him - even though he was rebelling on her behalf, rebelling so that she would be Queen, she felt as though she didn’t have to show that she’d be a good Queen around him. Not in the way she did around most everyone else. Because he knew - he’d known that she would make a brilliant Queen practically ever since they’d met, back when she’d been a tiny fey, young and looking up to him with admiration -

and that admiration had turned into a wonderful and brilliant friendship, one she was eternally grateful for.

They would be there for one another, forever and perhaps beyond that. Even though her body practically ached to have her second home, her other half, with them too, having Jasper was good. A solid place for when her mind wouldn’t stop racing around.

Her fingers found his hair and she brushed a few strands aside, before placing a careful and chaste kiss against his chin. “Thank you for the invite. I think this is very much just what I needed.” She looked up at the sky, thinking about his question. “I do not see what there would not be. There is so much of our world left unexplored, left to discover new beings, so I believe that other beings existing on other worlds to be perfectly plausible.” A small pause. “I wonder if they would find us kind, or if they would turn away because of what humankind has done to this world.” She bit her lip. “I do not mean to seem a pessimist, not at all, but I cannot help but wonder. I wonder, too, if wishes for them mean the same that they do on this world. Or if a wish for them is something entirely different.”

a place among the stars

[camelliafairchild-blog]

forcstfire‌:

Forest had to wonder what Camellia was busy with. Being the princess of the Unseelie court she had her mother probably keeping a close eye over her, but she had no real…power, so to speak. She wasn’t the leader of the Unseelie, she was likely not expected to take on any trying jobs. She seemed just to be there, someone for the Unseelie to appreciate and the Seelie to sneer at, but just another pretty face in the sea of fey. Busy. He wondered if she even ever experienced what it was like to really be busy. 

He had to chuckle at her notion that the fare food could be considered ‘delicacies.’ “I’ve had it all before.” Most of it was something children went crazy for - the sugar rushes and greasy carbs. He did have a slight sweet tooth, but not quite to the extent of buying a bag of cotton candy these days. 

At her question about Nadia he almost wanted to tell her no, she couldn’t ask. It wasn’t any of her business. But he just sighed instead, combing a hand through his hair, “She – I don’t really know what she knows, honestly.”

“All of it?” She pursed her lips for a while, before she let her curiosity subside at least a bit. It made sense - he had been human up until just a few years ago, so it made sense that he’d tried all sorts of fair food. She’d been able to go to fairs - for all that some might assume, Lacha hadn’t just kept her hidden away - but so often, any of the foods did not hold great appeal to her.

“But she is human, right? I do not know what I would do if I had a human sibling. I am well aware that it is impossible for me, but...” she gave a small shrug. She had a human grandparent - or had had one, at least - because they were dead now. They had to be, given the way that humans aged.

“It must be hard.” She paused, weighing her words, which felt heavy against her tongue. “Having to keep this from her. Assuming you do, and given that you do not know how much she knows, I think that might be a fair assumption on my part.” She would have giggled, were it anybody else, but that felt cruel in this moment. Do you want her to join you, to be able to be more like you - like all of us? “At least - for what it is worth, you still are able to see her, sometimes?” She looked up at him quizzically. “Or is that not good? I can see that it might also not be good.” She bit the end of her tongue for a moment. “Feel free to not answer.”

[camelliafairchild-blog]

herownwildwhisper‌:

“… Guitar,” Ivy said, the answer almost a little hesitant: it was a remnant of who she had been, once, something that kept her close to her family.. her human one. Sometimes, she would sing, but only ever in the privacy of her own home – it made her feel vulnerable, tongue tracing words she’d learned decades ago, the memories ringing out clear as day.

“Been playing since I was a kid.” Purposefully vague: she didn’t feel quite comfortable speaking of her time as a human with any of the fey. She let the subtle discomfort fade for a smile, turning the conversation back on Camellia.

“Who taught you?”

“Brilliant.” She said in response, watching Ivy as the other spoke.

“Would you ever play for me? You are free to say no, I promise, but I should love to hear your music.” She grinned at Ivy. It was a true curiosity - even beyond whatever desire she had to find out more about Ivy’s life as a human, she wanted to know the Ivy who stood before her now. Who’d won Fidchell the year before she was born, and who, despite it all, had wanted to remain part of the world of the fey. It was a brilliant and fascinating thing, and the fact that she played music was all the better. “Has Elise ever played for you?” She asked, curious again.”

“Myself. Plus a good couple dozen songbooks, and one tutor, briefly.” She brushed her fingers against her nose. “My mother had me privately tutored, and I have often been advanced for my age,” the words spoken were not meant as a brag, simply a truthful statement, “so I often found myself with time to spare, and I have never particularly enjoyed remaining idle.” She laughed, softly. “So I taught myself piano, and a few other languages - besides English and Irish, that is - amongst other things.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

[camelliafairchild-blog]

willcwfairbank‌:

They had always been the fey with the answers. Intelligence allowed them to scope beyond the realm of mortals. Logic and facts dripped from their tongue. Experience, heartbreak and age had made them wise, a maternal figure to take fledglings under her wing. And what answers they did not have they found - a querying eye rooting for an explanation, for the truth. But tonight, in the face of Camellia’s question, they initially found themselves drawing a blank. The loss of glamour was…unprecedented? Certainly not anything someone would have predicted. And to both courts? At the same time?

Were they being played with? Were forces beyond their nature, perhaps Gods, toying with them?

For the loss from one court was more easily explained away. In their mind, that court was hers. The Seelie’s, with their constant problems and waning magic…it seemed almost like a natural progression of events, that they should lose control over it. Actions had consequences. As did inaction. But the Unseelie court…although Willow had heard rumours of trouble (nothing more than mere suspicions, a fire that hadn’t been start by a seelie)…on the face of it, they seemed perfect. Like how ice was. For a moment, Willow thought about asking, but ruled against it. Young she may be, but Camellia was still a princess - and knew better than to divulge any of her courts secrets. Instead, Willow sighed.“Nothing good.” That answer wasn’t good enough. “I suppose, in the most general of terms, the loss of magic…of any magic…would suggest that the courts - and perhaps the fey - are in dire straits.” 

What was happening? She had no idea, and that thought made her feel queasy, almost. The over-present sweetness of the cotton candy still thick on her tongue.

She didn’t let her breath catch. Because dire straights were absolutely not anything remotely good. Because when dire straights edged toward being a little too dire, that lead to royalty thinking of sacrifice. Which was not going to happen. Not now, and not ever. Not if Camellia even had one word to say about it. “Yeah - yes.” She said, giving a nod. “That would seem to be the most logical belief about it all.” A hand pressed against her tattoo, she didn’t even give thought to the scar - besides, it was edging on being almost forty years old, now - it was mostly faded, just leaving a pale line against her already pale skin. “You are older than I am.” A simple fact, but one laced with respect - Willow was one of the Seelie Camellia could not help but have respect for. They commanded it without directly claiming so. They were less flashy than others in their Court, and they were kind to her, even though she was heir to their opposing Court. “If you do not understand this, it must be something knew - something untold. Do you think someone caused this, or would it more likely be something?” She looked up at Willow.