fcllengrace

[fcllengrace]

[fcllengrace]

it was the mention of ysara's cousin that forced her hand to stop. her fingers stilled in the air, the needle ghosting against the other's skin. the prominent lump in her throat bobbed and she did her best to hold the thinly-veiled emotions at bay.

"i doubt many here in the summer court," those from here and those forced to be here, "would take a liking to anyone's blood." it was vague enough, right? because in truth, ysara didn't know her cousin well enough anymore to speak for them - even if she had her assumptions.

"at least the wound isn't deep, just a quick stitch and some balm and you'll be as good as new. though i'm afraid you'll want to wait before you go venturing along the shore again," the needle slid through again, and ysara's gaze never left the other's. "it's not easy being condemned to a world that isn't your own." though most were from prythian, each court did often feel like an entirely different world from the others. "hopefully you won't have to get too used to the summer court's environment. it can sometimes be unforgiving."

she pauses at the instructions, toes ceasing their wiggling. at least she could still move them. bea was always good with instructions. well-disciplined per her army roots before joining the court.

her lips flatten. she did not like the idea of a scarred arch atop of her wings.

"i was walking on the beach," bea answers, tone annoyed. this motherforsaken court. it was a curse. the winged fae was not meant to walk, but here she was - condemned to the ground. "not much heroics in slicing your foot on a broken shell. wonder if your cousin would take any joy in a rock covered in my blood."

[fcllengrace]

brows perked up as she listened, their words exchanged, but she didn’t comment. not right away. instead her attention remained focused on the wound, carefully closing the cut. “ah, nothing to forgive. i’ve had worse introductions,” ysara chuckled quietly. “and i don’t require thanks. if anything, you're doin' me a favor by keepin' the night busy.”

with a few swift glides of the cloth in her hand, she soaked up the remaining blood before dropping the fabric into the basin beside her - the water blooming a dark, rich scarlet as it was sullied. her fingertips grazed over the stitched line, testing the seal and admiring her own work.

“you’ll be fine by morning,” a hint of pine and mint then filled the space between them as she reached for a covered jar, scooping out a dab of ointment and smoothing it over the injury. "though next time you decide to tell someone settle down, might try to move a bit quicker." a joke, of course, but hopefully they'd pick up on her playful tone.

"better yet, may want to take caution in general until this thing heals. considering it feels like almost half of prythian is staying under one court, that may be easier said than done." not every court worked well together and her anxiety had a habit of jumping to outcomes that were less than ideal.

his shoulder spasmed again. too many long years had passed since zacarías last suffered a wound like this --- a gash along his shoulder, once pouring blood now a trickle. blessed by the mother that it wasn't deep. but the sting of pain still bit, swelling discomfort and embarrassment.

and yet, he forced himself still as stone at the directions given. allowed the prick of needle, the feather-light touch. a bemused huff was his first answer, followed with, "not much hero to play at, simply asking a rowdy patron to leave as demanded. my own fault for expecting a different outcome." at least the fight was short-lived, despite the wound suffered.

his gaze finally flicked to the hands sewing skin, then to the fae's face. "thank you. for offering to help. forgive my rudeness for not saying so earlier."

[fcllengrace]

“mmm,” she mused, the thread pulling tight between her fingers, listening to his words, that same faint curve of her lips. it wasn't the pain others suffered through that made her smile, but how different each person who sat in this very chair was. "ah, you don't need introductions to get help here." she skirted around the question, giving him a quick, pointed glance, and returned to the task at hand.

"and i don't know about that," a hint of laughter then escaped. "the summer court is no easy feat, but hate you? you just gotta get used to it. granted, we do all have a bit love-hate relationship with the place." she paused, a bit of hesitation. "i'm assuming coming here wasn't exactly by choice? where ya from?" evading questions, even ones as simple as asking for her name, was ysara's speciality and was often met with her shifting the conversation on to the other.

Xavier hadn't even realized he had cut his arm on the fence when he came through it. It wasn't until he felt the blood dripping down his arm. He had been lucky to run into the healer outside the tavern. "I like everything with a side of personality." He said, but stilled nothing wanting to create to much problem.

"I don't think I caught your name before you began helping me." He said with a sigh. "Neither, trying to take a short cut to get back to the palace and missed the stray fence." He shook his head. "This court hates me." He shook his head.

[fcllengrace]

ysara worked by touch more than sight, fingers moving without thought, stitch by stitch. she'd long since memorized the rhythm - needle in, draw through, breathe out. it was easier to focus on that than on the quiet heaviness across from her.

not the wound, but the woman beneath it.

in ysara's eyes, asha always seemed to carry herself like she’d already outlived everything. and maybe she had. there was something about her presence... so steadfast and unbothered, like time broke against her instead of the other way around. ysara hated how safe that made her feel. hated the way her chest softened around her. even with all the walls between them, asha felt like a home she'd never been invited to and somehow, ysara couldn't find the will to leave.

"and you've only just noticed? i can't say i'm surprised, considering it's you i'm talking to," she paused, delicate eyes examining the cut - wondering if it truly was the magic of this jolt that caused it.

"though, if it is at all possible this is because of this little shift, perhaps we should get a second look?" concern colored her words and she bit the inside of her cheek. showing genuine worry and care was never easy, especially when it was someone she had come to be so found of. "who knows the kind of magic could be behind this or what it would mean to be touched by it."

"i'm serious, asha."

❝ i haven't the slightest idea how this happened. ❞ and no, asha would definitely not entertain the notion that as she aged, she lost awareness. could not anticipate perception changes nor believe herself to be further away from something harmful. blaming the deep magic, and the virile and moody shifts of the nature which both she and ysara worked with. she dared not wriggle as the other patient did. ❝ my wounds have enough personality without me to help them. how dreadful. i was minding my own business. ❞

thoughts  poured  through.  how  lailah  would  be  admonishing  her.  how  ysara  merely  teased.  the  difference  in  the  concept  of  daughters,  and  asha  never  much  wished  to  accept  those  outside  her  circle,  but  as  these  centuries  overtook  her,  she  could  not  be  alone,  could  she?  ❝ it  might  have  been  left  over  from  our  little  jolt  into  summer, ❞  allowed  she.  ❝ and  i  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice,  and  now  it  demands  us  to  pay  attention,  as  most  of  these  things  do. ❞  a  healer  was  not  the  best  patient.  indeed,  sometimes  they  often  made  the  worst.  she  did  not  much  feel  the  needle  nor  thread,  but  the  surge  of  annoyance  that  came  alongside  needing  the  help. even  through  the  ballooning  tenderness  and  pride.

[fcllengrace]

she had just slipped out of the infirmary when she felt a pull. not magic. not exactly. more like memory. something knotted in the blood and tugged now, low in her belly. the corridor was quiet, the hour late, and the only sound was her own breath...not until she heard his voice.

the light from his lantern cut a warm streak through the dark, casting shadows across his jaw. same eyes, same mouth, same everything and yet, perhaps over the years her memory of him had faded. she looked at him as if she'd never seen him before and she wondered how the child had grown to be this man.

her lips parted but no words came.

not at first.

instead, ysara looked at him. really looked. not with fear. not with shame. just… tenderness. bruised and wary, but tenderness, nonetheless. she had searched his face a thousand times in her memory, and still, nothing compared to standing here, lantern-light soft between them.

“i—well, i wasn't sure you’d want to see me,” she admitted, quietly. though how silly of her to think such. "but clearly mother," the universe, "had other plans for us." a nervous little laugh escaped her, a sound like the tinkling of a bell.

another moment of silence passed and she searched for the right thing to say. did she apologize for her absence all those years? ask him how he was? how his sisters were? did she even have the right to ask him anything at all?

"i never thought i'd actually see you again. any of you. so if i'm honest, i'm sure what to say, high lord." she wanted to taste how it felt on her tongue. calling him the high lord of the dawn court rather than his father, the ruthless ruler who was, in part, responsible for how broken their family was at times. "the title suits you, dear cousin."

CLOSED ⟳ @fcllengrace

once  his  court  had  been  settling  into  their  assigned  lodgings,  in  the  moments  between  they  finally  settled,  and  gathered  everyone,  the  shock  had  not  waned  of  seeing  his  cousin.  the  very  cousin  he's  searched  for  since  she  left,  following  her  father's  exile.  everything  surrounding  that  has  left  the  high  lord  of  dawn  trouble.  his  father  did  not  allow  him  into  this  mess  he's  made,  and  he  knew  it  was  his  father's  it  has  his  scent  all  over  it,  but  it  was  always  with  a  pang  of  regret  he'd  not  been  able  to  do  anything  then.  with  the  shock  was  also  a  bit  of  good  news,  ysara  has  been  in  summer  all  this  time.  in  truth,  saint  had  his  spies  in  every  court,  and  still  she  had  managed  to  slip  from  his  radar.

it  was  when  evening  fell  and  all  retired  to  their  rooms,  he  found  ysara  by  the  infirmary  rooms,  and  then  tailed  her  until  she  was  near  by  her  room.  "you  do  not  wish  say  hello  to  your  cousin?"  he  speaks,  alerting  her  of  his  presence,  a  lantern  in  his  hand  before  he  allows  her  to  see  his  features.  "i  am  relived  to  see  you  safe  and  found  a  home  for  yourself  here."

[fcllengrace]

the sun had barely even kissed the sky yet, but ysara was already there. the mare shifting beneath her, eager too tread on, but all the fae could do was sit and stare into the distance. she couldn't sleep, her thoughts had run wild. she knew she should've been worrisome over the king, the shift to the summer court, the state of prythian as a whole, and yet the only thing to plague her mind was the reunion with her blood. a family she barely even knew now.

it was only when the sound of hooves in the distance drifted through her high tipped ears, had ysara managed to come down from the cloud of her thoughts. a faint smile tugged at her lips, her eyes following the familiar figure of alina. she watched her and the white horse as they trotted toward her.

moments passed before she even found the will to respond to the high lady, though the creases in her forehead and the somber expression in her gaze was all the indication alina needed. “i’m not evading,” she added after the pause, soft and barely certain. . “just… postponing.”

another beat and her eyes finally met the other's.

“a few more mornings won’t kill them.” the smirk that grew matched the faint pep in her tone, but by now alina probably knew the healer better than she let on. "besides, i fear you'd miss me far too much if i were to split my attention elsewhere. my absence would disrupt your natural state of things too much." the teasing tone draped over her words like silk. a pretty little distraction, just enough to pull the veil back over what she didn’t want to name. not yet.

CLOSED ⟳ @fcllengrace

having  nearly  every  fae  in  the  summer  court  was  nowhere  near  ideal,  alina  finds  some  comfort  in  continuing  her  routine  of  riding  at  dawn.  she  had  missed  in  the  capital,  as  well  as  in  the  dusk  court,  nothing  truly  prevents  her  from  doing  so  there  but  it  was  not  summer.  it  was  not  her  mounts,  nor  her  favored  white  mount.  the  moment  they  landed  in  summer,  alina  had  to  simply  gather  hear  bearings,  account  for  her  family,  and  her  fae,  uncover  the  state  of  her  court  as  its  high  lady  was  absent  for  nearly  ten  months.  although  she  has  kept  her  trusted  and  incompetent  staff  in  charge,  a  court  could  not  go  this  long  without  it's  ruler.  she  finds  that  nothing  is  out  of  sorts  much  to  her  relief,  save  for  the  shock  she  offers  her  fae  at  her  abrupt  return.  her  staff  appeared  relieved,  and  she's  curious  when  she  catches  ysara,  the  dawn  healer  that  had  sought  refuge  in  her  court,  appearing  out  of  sorts.  it  was  a  natural  response  from  her,  as  it  was  for  summer  fae,  alina's  staff  are  as  stunned  to  find  not  six  courts  but  seven  courts  along  with  the  capital  in  tow.

she  waits  a  few  days  to  settle  in,  before  alina  resumes  her  sunrise  ritual.  she  knows  she's  to  find  ysara  there,  the  healer  soon  joining  her  in  this  activity.  initially,  she  hadn't  wanted  any  company,  this  was  something  the  high  lady  did  on  her  own,  to  clear  her  mind  before  going  about  her  day  and  her  duties,  only  to  then  overtime  grow  accustomed  to  ysara's  presence.  the  young  lady  is  there  when  alina  makes  her  way, sat atop her white horse,  to  their  usual  path  of  riding,  knowing  very  well  the  other  was  waiting  for  the  high  lady  to  appear.  "how  long  do  you  plan  to  evade  your  family?"  the  question  poised  in  a  low  murmur.

[fcllengrace]

location ; above a tavern in a merchant / city square

setting ; it's late at night, but the streets are still alive and ysara is patching up your character after getting hurt ( how , why , level of severity is completely utp! )

status ; open to all!

a faint stain of red coated her fingertips while the smell of crushed lavender and yarrow drowned out the metallic scent of blood.

“you’ll need to hold still,” she spoke practically, but the faint curve of her lips suggested she was rather enjoying this. her hands were steady and sure as she worked, deftly sewing up the tender area. “unless you like your wounds with a little personality,” she added, one brow lifting. “then by all means, wiggle away.” her gentle touch was covered by thin gloves that she wore at almost all times. too afraid of the skin-on-skin contact.

a beat passed. quiet but not awkward, before she spoke again: “so what happened? let the summer court wine take the wheel? or were you playing hero?"

[fcllengrace]

for a second she watched without moving.

the flow of rosalyn's skirt, the way her curls caught the light as they dangling in front of her eyes - there was a strange comfort in it. the smallest of nodes, to prove to ysara that this was - she was real.

a faint smile tugged at the irony of rosa asking the other if they were real, when ysara was questioning the same herself. too many years had passed, but the familiarity of her voice never faded from memory.

"rosalyn?" her voice came too quiet at first, but the sound of her boots against the stone brought the attention toward her. "i can—" she paused, her gaze shifting between her cousin and the other, before a gloved hand reached forward, and rested on her forearm.

since the shift, ysara had been hesitant to bridge the distance that formed from her own self-exile. it didn't feel real to have her own flesh and blood in the same place as her, but now that they were here she couldn't just act like there wasn't history there. legacy, really. they were family and that meant something.

"let me show you the way." a gentle grip tugged the other toward her, an eagerness she was perhaps using as a way to prove herself, "summer court can be a bit of a maze, i can see why you got turned around." this had been her home for some time now, and while she hadn't spent much time in the exact area, it wasn't completely foreign to her. "we'll take the scenic route, too." a chuckle followed, warmth flowing to her cheeks.

open starter location: in the halls of the summer court, a few days after the arrival of everyone in the court

rosalyn had never liked unfamiliar places. not because she feared them—no, fear was too tangible, too grounded for what unsettled her. it was the in-betweenness of it all. the way walls blurred together when she wasn’t paying attention, how corridors stretched too long or bent too sharply when her mind wandered elsewhere. and now, here she was, untethered in the summer court, the salt-heavy air and golden light pressing against her senses like a too-warm embrace.

she had meant to follow the directions she had written out for herself after arriving. had even traced the path in ink over and over again in one of her journals. but now, standing in a hallway that felt like it had shifted when she wasn’t looking, rosa realized she had no idea where she was.

her skirts whispered against the polished floors as she turned in a slow, uncertain circle. no one had given her much notice so far—just another visitor drifting through the grand halls, a pale slip of a thing against the sun-kissed vibrancy of the court. but she could not keep wandering forever.

rosa exhaled, brushing a stray curl from her face, then spotted a figure just ahead. without hesitation, she crossed the space between them, light-footed and unbothered by the quick oddity of her own approach.

“pardon me.” she said, her voice lilting with its usual, airy cadence. “i seem to have misplaced myself. you wouldn’t happen to know where they’ve tucked away the dawn court chambers, would you?”

she tilted her head, gaze flickering over them like she was reading something only she could see. lingering a moment too long“or are you lost as well....or not here at all...do tell me if you arent real now, won’t you? i’d hate to be talking to nothing at all.”

[fcllengrace]

with a tug at her bottom lip, ysara sucked in a breath. her eyes followed in the direction of the others, those demanding more from the musician.

"if you need to—" she paused, her focus back on purnelle now, a soft smile to ease any worries. "don't let me keep you from them, you're clearly wanted." though what kind of message would that send? they snap their fingers and purnelle comes running? not a chance, ysara thought.

throwing back another gulp of her drink, the fae spoke again, "i was just venting, that's all. not even venting. more like anxious rambling." she shrugged, tapping her clawed fingers against the glass in a rhythmic pattern. "i don't know, i'm probably overthinking," as she often did, "it's just strange having everyone here." everyone as in her family. here. at the summer court. "it's a bit nerve wracking, not gonna lie. feels as though i'm working alongside a bunch of strangers."

"oh, hush! don't you see me chattin' here?" the musician laughs, drink sloshing in a pointed threat in their direction. "let me clear my pipes and i'll get back to the singing. queue up your requests."

it's just a short break in between her set, a moment to catch-up with the regulars and shop-vendors, make a new friend, meet an old friend who'd been vanished months ago. she liked arrival stories best - hearing how they landed, where they landed. she wanted to know everything, filtering out which bits would make a good story. because purnelle was a storyteller at heart.

with a wide, open gaze, she prompts - "you were saying?"

open for @ofcourtfablesarchive ; the midnight market, the summer court.

capping at five!

[fcllengrace]

𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 ; 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐦𝐞

‘ sarah sofie boussnina, cis woman, she/her, 29 / 290 , high fae, daemati ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems YSARA GALATHENEA has been teleported to the summer court, the LADY COUSIN / HEALER from THE DAWN COURT is said to be UNNERVINGLY INTUITIVE and is said to describe themselves with THE SCARS ACROSS THE BACK OF HER MIND, BEING BOTH THE ARCHER AND THE PREY, FRACTURED MORNING LIGHT TANGLED IN HER HAIR, KINDNESS WRAPPED IN IRON and with all of this in mind their REPRESSIVE nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.

GENERAL DETAILS.

FULL NAME: ysara ( ee · sah · rah ) galathenea NICKNAME(S): ysa NAME MEANING: her mother used to tell her it meant 'gift', which ysa once believed, until she realized that her mom was just being extra AGE:  29 / 290 DATE OF BIRTH:  august 6th, 1996 PLACE OF BIRTH: dawn court CURRENT LOCATION: summer court GENDER: cis woman PRONOUNS: she/her SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: lives in a small upper-floor apartment in the summer court capital

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: sarah sofie boussnina HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: deep brown, loose / natural waves COMPLEXION: olive / tan EYE COLOR: brown TATTOOS: tba but she has many! CLOTHING STYLE: minimalist silks in muted tones such as cream, bone, shadow blue. functional with open backs and draped sleeves. always always always barefoot indoors. cloaks and hoods for when she wants to vanish. loves her healing belts and moonstone rings DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tba SIGNATURE SCENT:  rosewater, lavender and crushed herbs

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: tenderhearted, devoted, intuitive, resourceful NEGATIVE TRAITS: repressive, stubborn, bitter, callous LIKES: quiet mornings, the moon she never got to experience growing up, long hot showers, the feeling of someone breathing in the bed beside her DISLIKES: being touched unexpectedly, noble arrogance, court politics, when people call her “gifted,” the smell of lilac FEARS: hurting someone she loves. being used. becoming what her parents said she was destined to be. the idea that she enjoys what she's capable of, even for a second HABITS: rubbing her thumb over her bottom lip when deep in thought PERSONALITY TYPE: INFJ MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral good, with chaotic good in her PRIMARY VICE: guilt...she loves to let it eat away at her PRIMARY VIRTUE: forgiveness (but for others, never herself lol)

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: veyla caelith. she was cold, calculating, adored in public, feared in private. obsessed with legacy and purity of magic. the kind of woman who called her daughter “useful" and the true puppeteer behind ysara’s training FATHER: orien galathenea. not nearly as cunning and wise as his wife, but a dutiful husband who never showed his love to his daughter because his wife taught him it was a sign of weakness BEST FRIEND: open! pls i love besties! EXES: open SIBLING(S): potentially open! can be discussed! EXTENDED FAMILY: high lord saint, high priestess persephone, lady rosalyn, lady eriyln, lord eros PET(S): a three legged fox she rescued years ago. he comes and goes as he pleases, but deep down she knows his home is with her

BACKSTORY.

ysara galathenea was once a prized possession of her parent's nobility. refined, graceful, gifted as her mother would say. but beneath the surface, her parents trained her like a weapon, twisting her daemati gift into something sharp and brutal, using her skills to manipulate others where they saw fit. she grew up with a healers heart and through touch, she truly believed she was doing just that. despite the hate and arrogance that flowed through her parents veins, ysara was gentle and wanted to use her daemati abilities to ease pain among other things. until one night, she was forced by her parents (who she once worshiped tbh) to slip into the mind of someone she had grown to love, and attempted to forever manipulate it to her parent's advantage… but with the lack of the moon to power her abilities, the attempt failed, wounding not just them but herself. when the ordeal became a public scandal, it was labeled a heinous betrayal by the family - a violation of what the court stood for. that moment changed everything. life in the dawn court was over for her. because of their acts against their own people, veyla and orien were exiled from the dawn court. as for ysara? the guilt ate at her and she vanished on her own accord soon after. for years, the court and others assumed she was dead. but in truth, she was hiding. she was haunted, ashamed that she let her parents influence dictate her actions. she jumped from court to court, before settling for a quiet, healing life in the summer court. now, decades later, ysara has been living quietly among the summer court and when the shift occurred, she was reunited with the dawn court, who was under a new ruler, her cousin saint. her skills as a healer are what have giving her a second chance to now serve as the dawn court's healer. she says she won’t touch minds anymore. not even her own. but with prythian under attack, who knows how long she can hold out before her gifts may be needed in one way or another.

[fcllengrace]

I don’t know where I’m going. Where I came from is disappearing. I am unwelcome. My beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory.

Warsan Shire, from Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head; “Home”

[fcllengrace]

𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 ; 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐦𝐞

𝙵𝙲𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴 ⸻ dependent multi-muse blog for ofcourtfables. adored by lucy.

ysara galathenea. 29/290. high fae. daemati. healer for the dawn court.