#Aon-adharcach

[rowan-blood]

Morrígan Academy

An academy for hight fey close to Connacht and Lake Elatha in the Spring Court. It's located on the other side of Quartz Creek crossing Agate Bridge, opposite to the Agate Wood.

STAFF

-Elluin (fey, headmistress) -Silver (fey, Elluin's assistant) -Merith (human, elevated beantighe) -Adelard (human, professor) -Professor Dullahan (fey, professor) -Caetho (human, elevated beantighe) -Cassila

STUDENTS

-Eias (Book 1) -Magnin (Book 1)

THE LIBRARY

HOUSE DANANN: Nobility

Aon-adharcach (Unicorn Suite)

-Cylvan dé Tuatha dé Danann (Book 1, Book 2)

Other Suites

-Taran  mac Delbaith (Book 1, Book 2) -Asche (Book 2) -Kaelar (Book 2) -Eias (Book 2) -Magnin (Book 2)

Attic: Servants' Quarters

-Saffron (Book 2) -Dewdrop (Book 2) -Apple (Book 2) -Goldie (Book 2)

-Danann House's ghosts

HOUSE PALLAS: Knights

For studying military history, world history, and diplomatic politics.

-Kaelar (Book 1)

HOUSE ERCE: Government officials

For studying government, economics, social philosofy, public works, and ensuring the well being of all high fey.

HOUSE NEMAIN: Oracles and Philosophers

For studying arts, literature, philosophy, sociology and anthropology.

[perxywonderland]

“Tha an cù dubh grinn”

“An cù dubh”… it’s the black dog. Grinn is new

It means : “The black dog is cute”, “Grinn” means cute.

Nice. Tha thu grinn, unicorn (you are cute)

…Very good, but focus Ais….And aon-adharcach is for unicorn.

​it is said in Ais’ bio he likes picking up new languages, he surely asked to learn Willow’s native language.

[thesconesyard]

Yeehaw!

When the Cactus Blooms

21. An Unconventional Steed

“How did you end up here?”

Scotty looked up at Jaylah. They were working together on another of the carts. Despite being a thief, John Harrison had had some good engineering ideas and Scotty would be damned if he didn’t use them. The first cart he had fixed was the best one they had now, and he intended to make the others just as good.

“Ye know lassie, we don’t normally ask each other such pointed questions. We all got our share of blows in this life and we don’t always want to be reminded of them.”

“Oh.”

“No, no lass!” Scotty said quickly at the expression on her face. “Ye can ask me, I don’t mind. My lows weren’t the lowest here. Just take care of some of the others.”

“Ok,” Jaylah said softly.

“I ended up here because of a unicorn,” Scotty answered, turning back to the work in front of them.

“Oh. Wait- what?” Jaylah looked at him in confusion.

“Aye.” Scotty kept his eyes down, trying to keep his face blank.

“A unicorn?”

Scotty nodded.

“Montgomery Scotty…”

“Oh fine lass, I’ll tell you,” Scotty laughed. “I had a wee brother—”

“Had?” Jaylah asked as her eyes widened.

“Have, aye, sorry,” Scotty said quickly. “I don’t get to see him…” He shrugged. “We were a pair, always up to something. Finally we got in a wee bit too deep with the wrong people. We were forced to either produce an actual unicorn, or, well, no more Scott brothers.”

“What did you do?” Jaylah demanded. “Those aren’t real.”

Scotty let out a chuckle.

“We did what any pair of trouble-making brothers would do.”

“You made a fake one?”

“Oh nae lass. We did one better. We found a horse named Aon-adharcach.”

Scotty grinned at Jaylah’s blank look.

“It's unicorn in Gaelic. We rode it together through the town. Thought we were a pair of right smart ones. Fortunately the people we had wronged found it funny as well. And here I am.” Scotty smiled again at Jaylah, before turning back to his work, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can ye hand me that?” he asked, pointing at a tool, before Jaylah could ask anything else.

Scotty had finished the work on the cart with Jaylah and then had gone off on his own. He needed time to settle himself and think. Or maybe try not to think. He hadn’t thought about his brother in a long time and the memories still hurt.

He wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until the smell of something delicious wafted by. Scotty looked up from where he was sitting on the far side of the tree at the creek to see McCoy standing next to him. In the doctor’s hand was a bowl. His bottle of good whisky was in the other.

“A unicorn huh?” McCoy smiled gently as he made himself comfortable on the ground next to Scotty. He handed the bowl over and produced a spoon from his shirt pocket. “You missed dinner and you should eat.”

“Thank you love,” Scotty said quietly as he accepted the meal.

“Eat and then if you want to talk we can. Or not,” McCoy said carefully. “I won’t push.”

They sat in silence as Scotty ate, shoulders pressed together. The creek murmured in front of them and a breeze ruffled Scotty’s hair. He set the bowl and spoon aside when he was done, then leaned against McCoy’s warm body even more.

“Ye told me about yer life before, it’s fair I tell mine,” he said quietly. McCoy didn’t say anything, just joined his hand with Scotty’s.

“I lost my wee brother because of it all.”

“I’m sor—”

“He’s alive,” Scotty said quickly. “At least as far as I know. I’ve nae heard from him in years.”

“You write to him?”

Scotty shook his head. “Cannae. The people we were in with… They’d know. After the unicorn trick I made a deal to keep Robbie safe. We were lucky they’d found that humorous.”

Scotty’s head fell to his chest, and he let his memories swirl around him again.

“They wouldn't hurt Robbie and would make sure he stayed safe, on two conditions. One was he had to leave Aberdeen. It was the only home we knew, but our parents were already gone, so…”

“What was the second?” McCoy asked gently.

Scotty closed his eyes tight against the tears forming.

“I had to leave Scotland and never see him again.” It came out as a faint whisper, and Scotty felt a tear slide down his face. McCoy’s arm went around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

“I went to London, but it wasn’t enough. The urge to go back was too strong,” he continued. “So I worked until I had enough to cross the ocean. But then I would spend each evening staring at the sea. I had to go further where I wouldn’t be tempted. Here I am.”

“Oh darlin’,” McCoy breathed. “Does he know? Why you left?”

Scotty nodded.

“He didn’t want me to. But they would have hurt him, killed him if I hadn’t.”

McCoy didn’t say anything else, he just held Scotty close, and Scotty was grateful for it.

[spirit-animal-sisters-official]

Title:  The Toilet’s Obsidian Punch (黒曜石パンチのトイレ)

Title Pun/Reference:  Gosei Sentai Dairanger #32: The Ogre’s Golden Kick

Focus Character(s): Aon-adharcach of the Monoceros, Shouji of the Pegasus, Spirit Animal Sisters and Kaz Kaan

Abridged Description:  The marriage of the millennium is here… or is it? 

Monster of the Day: Akaname and Kurote

Trivia: This episode leads into the events of Spirit Animal Sisters the Movie

[rvexillology]

The original was removed, so now that it's Monday: Flags for England and Scotland in the style of Wales: The Golden Lion and An Aon-adharcach Geal

from /r/vexillology Top comment: Really neat! I just wish the three animals were drawn in the same style. Other than that: Great! :)

[sgribhisg]

LATHA NÀISEANTA AN AON-ADHARCAICH

'S e Latha Nàiseanta an Aon-Adharcaich a th' ann an-diugh. Is e an t-aon-adharcach beathach nàiseanta na h-Alba.

[It is National Unicorn Day today. The unicorn is Scotland's national animal.]

Leughaibh a bharrachd an-seo: https://bit.ly/31ZBhCq

🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime airson Aon-Adharcach leis an Fhaclair Bhig: http://bit.ly/2D904I9

🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime airson Aon-Adharcach le Learn Gaelic: http://bit.ly/2G2foHj

[fosterchild42]

Some Entries for the “Elkwood Futurity Showcase” on ES. We have so many horses we wanted to show, it was difficult to choose who to enter. 

[braindeacl]

Splinter | Solomon & Eilidh

SETTING: The woods. TIMING: Current, early morning. PARTIES: @shroomsbysolomon & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh means to put an end to Solomon’s trail of death, permanently, but ideologies get in the way.  WARNINGS: Drug use

Anger had driven him from his home. Rage had fueled the destruction he’d left in his wake all those miles from here. But it was fear that brought him back; heavy in his gait and thick in his throat. It was fear that coaxed him toward the coast, that sent sharp aches through his body and violent shivers up his spine. He’d been gone too long. What might have happened in his absence? No, no, he couldn’t rationalize it that way, he—

How was he to reconcile this?

It had taken several centuries to forget the first time, and he wasn’t sure how many more centuries he had to spare.

Lumbering through familiar forests, a sense of calm began to worm its way into his anxious mind. Perhaps he had strayed too far—this was his home, after all. His roots were here, in more ways than one. His thoughts drifted to soft lips, the snarling curl of a scar amidst a warm smile… sunlight streaming in through the window, all golden and peaceful.  For a moment, blissful memory overtook the hate that had inspired his trip out west, cleansing his conscience of all the horrible things he’d done to those people—

As with all things, it was not meant to last. A sound snapped Solomon from his reverie, golden eyes darting to his left, where they fell upon a most peculiar figure in the distance. A beat of silence passed between them: the human-shaped silhouette, half hidden by foliage, stood small before the towering fae, all bark and thorns and lichen and antlers. 

An uncharacteristic vocalization bloomed in the leshy’s throat, deep and growling. He recognized this one. He’d seen them out in his woods before, coming upon the bodies of the unfortunate souls he’d turned into hedge hounds… as well as the ones that the vines had refused to make hosts out of. Even after the first failed attempt, Solomon had persisted, not having any better explanation for his own existence and hoping that perhaps one would work out.

“What do you want?” he snarled, his ancient, unnatural voice pouring forth from the skull that adorned his head. 

It started as an attempt to find answers. Searching for potential leads on the gateways that kept sprouting about White Crest. But the trail led nowhere. Might as well have fun heading back. Eilidh took to the forests, exploring what they had to offer. When Eilidh came upon the first body, she was a mixture of disturbed and intrigued. Just as the corpse was a mixture of flesh and plant. It had been hard to distinguish at first, the protruding vines blending in with the surrounding vegetation. But something felt off. On closer inspection, she noted the way the vines curled and twisted into a familiar shape. A human shape. Unlike most of the hedges she’d see in town, which were forced into poses by the cut of a blade, what lay before lacked any sort of obvious manipulation. This was simply how it grew to be. Out in the middle of the woods. Interesting. Further inspection confirmed a suspicion. Someone had been snipped of their true form, forced by powerful magic into this construction. Part of her wondered if this had been the fate of all the hedges she had seen moving about town. But unlike those, this was still. More plant than creature. Is this how all the hedges will end? One side winning out? 

What started as a fascinating oddity became a repeated occurrence. Again and again. Sometimes it was like the forest floor was made of those bodies, for they looked one and the same. In perfect tandem. The harmony was almost beautiful. But the amount was becoming concerning. Whoever was the cause clearly had no plans on slowing down. How long until the forest was only corpses? She began to take the inspection seriously. Time was taken to observe the area, face obscured so she may not be observed as well. A plan began to formulate. She suspected fae, perhaps a nymph. An angry one. Her iron dagger was close at hand. 

Over time, she noticed a pattern. Realization brought forth a path in her mind; a path that hopefully led her to the source. Following that trail of death, it brought her to the being before her. Massive in form. Something powerful. Maybe even ancient. She had seen such a sight before, lingering near the bodies, but for her was from a safe distance. Only a vague idea of what she would face. That luxury was lost as the being placed their sights on her, and she was able to fully behold what she had gotten herself into. Her hand immediately went to grab at the syringe of Bliss nestled near her chest. No more close calls, it was time to do this right. James was saying something, probably an attempt to stop her. She couldn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear. Fuck the consequences. Temptation gnawed at her hands and throat as she gripped the needle. The cravings willed it.  

She stabbed it into her neck.

Only enough for one hit remained. Her lucky charm. Pressing down, the contents filled her, worming its way through her body. Too soon to fully take over, she waited. Staring. Something sent a shiver down her spine as she fully studied her target. Ancient knowledge banged in her head, wanting to be realized. Details previously lost came into focus: head replaced with skull, towering like a tree, horns outstretched like branches. Horns like branches. Horns. Familiarity caused her to gasp. This didn’t seem right; part of her was skeptical. But before that side could win, the other part willed her to proclaim, voice in awe, “Adharcach aon… Carson a tha thu…” 

Staring the stranger down, Solomon could tell by the tone of her voice that she was overwhelmed by his appearance—not an uncommon reaction, truth be told, but something was different about it, this time. Something that reminded him of the way the humans used to react to seeing him many hundreds of years ago… shortly before they would begin to treat him like one of their gods. 

He didn’t know the language that she spoke, but it sounded old, like the one he’d been taught growing up. Taking a step toward her, the leshy growled out a warning, though it was in the tongue of long-dead vikings. “Get out of my forest,” he commanded, “and do not return.” Not caring if she understood the language, he took another threatening step toward her. His long digits splayed out in a way that made them seem ready to attack, antlers angling down toward her. 

“You are not welcome here,” he added in English, just for good measure. 

Eilidh’s thoughts were still swimming in a pool of questions. Why had The Horned One taken on this form? Should she offer him something? Was this even real? An illusion? Did she get hit with something again and was seeing things? The being that stood before her was exactly as she had imagined him all these years, these centuries. The Horned God. She’d never thought she’d see him like this. Usually he could only be felt—in the leaves, the bark, the grass below—his presence permeating everywhere, everything. Her body was electrified at the sight. 

She did not understand him. And he did not seem to understand her, which casted a heavy shadow of doubt above them all. But the way he spoke brought upon a memory she had thought was long lost. Momentarily transported back centuries ago, she recalled a man. A vampire. His voice carried the same rhythm, the same flow and pitch. The same forgotten song. Even then, in the encounter so long ago, it was understood what he spoke was old and long gone. How much older it has grown since. Whoever stood before her was very ancient, or was very good at pretending to be. 

His image, who he appeared to be, was still causing confliction, contradictions, in her mind. Awe? Confusion? Anger? She wasn’t even sure whether to move, leave, or remain frozen. But in her pause, the drug was able to finally make its nest. It stole all those questions. Quieted her mind for a moment. Until the anger, no longer having competitors, was able to move to the forefront. Her body felt electrified for a different reason. Power.

Glamour activated, it was like her form suddenly struggled to retain its shape. It shifted and lurched this way and that. Fighting to be free from this humanoid container. Nothing about her looked the same for long. “ToUGh shIt.” Even her voice fought against her. “I’vE seeN wHat you’VE doNe, FUcker.” Her iron dagger was drawn, preparing for an attack. Fast clicking emanated from her. Teeth chattering. Too fast to be human. Then she was on the move. Not directly at the other being, but in the general vicinity. Here, then there, back again. Maneuvering through the trees as if she had ran through the area many times. 

That spark of anger ignited, and it was fueled by something Solomon did not fully comprehend. There was a voice in his head that demanded sacrifice, that demanded he protect it, no matter the cost. He was compelled by something unseen, a phantom that haunted him—draped over him like a blanket made of shadow. It was warm, though, that wispy embrace… inviting. Solomon was beginning to lose himself in it. The heat bloomed and rose in his chest, the flame licked higher and burned brighter until it was white-hot, blinding him to reality.

All he knew was that he had to defend. 

Golden orbs tucked away in black pits struggled to keep up with the rapid, erratic movements of his enemy, his large head jerking this way and that as he took a wary step back.

“I did what had to be done!” he bellowed, heart racing as she drew near. With a furious stomp, the leshy dug his trunk-like feet into the earth as roots erupted from them, racing through the soil in all directions, trying to create a protective circle around him. They lashed out of the ground wherever the stranger flicked into existence, reaching with the intent to strangle, but never quite quick enough. The glint of metal in his attacker’s hand sent a shiver of fear up his spine: he might have had very little understanding of what he was, but as a fae, he had discovered at a young age that iron was something he did not want to be injured with.

“This does not concern you!” the leshy tried again, focusing his attempts to get a handle on her to hold her still.

As Eilidh’s feet struck down, the ground below awoke. Roots shot out, cracking the soil, like nightcrawlers returning from a winter’s nap—wriggling, writhing, grasping—with only one goal. Stop her. But they only touched her shadow. Their attempts grew more powerful, more desperate, the closer she came to where the being stood, hidden behind a barricade. Coward. The sight alone would’ve culled any lingering wonder as to who the being was. This was no god. This could be killed.

This could be a meal.

Her teeth snapped in anticipation. Hard click of canines that wanted to bury into the other’s head. The thought was distracting enough to allow a root to knock on her heel. Almost enough to lose balance. Almost. Onward it went, the eternal game of cat and mouse—but who was which? In the repetition of actions, her mind wandered to the previous words. What had to be done. When humans uttered that phrase, a weak attempt at justification, it made her want to rip their throats. And they ironically would want to do the same to those who simply did what had to be done in order to survive, gore and all. Was the latter true in this case? Ever the curious soul, even with a tampered mind, she barked out. “FeEl FRee to eXplAIn yoUrseLf bEforeee I eAT yOu.” The chase continued, continued, continued; her energy seemingly never ending, the roots seemingly ever growing. Her patience, however, had a limit. Erratic feet found a singular goal, and she grew closer. When the roots became frantic, instead of retreating, allowing the stalemate to carry on, she pressed onward. Switching to the defense, her blade was in motion, aiming a slash at any root that dared to come near. 

That rage was returning as Solomon failed again and again to catch her, to stop her—it was burning white hot in his skull, bleeding out to his chest and stomach, smothering him. He felt something catch, but just as quickly as it had made contact, it was gone. The leshy let out an infuriated wail that made the branches of the trees around them shiver in response, and doubled down on his efforts. Only now… now something was hurting him. Cutting into his roots, burning like the anger that was making him lightheaded. 

Fear escalated to panic, threatening to overtake him until finally—there! Got her.

“The humans,” he moaned, the root that had managed to catch his attacker’s foot snaking around her ankle and working up her leg, “they hurt us. They come into my woods and cut them down—” The barrier fell away as Solomon emerged to face whoever this person was, his lithe body trembling with emotion. “—they kill the creatures I call my family, they burn our home to the ground!” One root had become many, each grasping at her and trying to hold her in place, recoiling in pain with each slash of her weapon. And yet Solomon still lamented, the anguish laced in his tone only fueled by her attempts to break free. “I must take back what they have claimed, I must show them—listen!—I must show them that they are not the center of all creation! Can you not understand that?” 

Eilidh continued to slash—the resulting wails only fueling her frenzy. But it was her against an army; she could only hold them off for so long. The distinction between ground and root was lost. All below writhed: reaching, reaching, reaching. She would not back down. Until something forced her to. Attention could only be divided so many ways; a hand can only be in so many places. One of the roots darted out from such a place. Ensnared its prey. To the ground, she fell.

Is he… monologuing? She did technically ask for this. Nevertheless, she preoccupied herself with repeatedly stabbing the root snaked around her leg. More quickly followed. One replaced the battered root that had been encircling her shin. Others gripped her attacking arms, trying to slow her movements into less offensive blows. She bit into the barked flesh, ripping off pieces with her canines. Their hold diminished until her hand was free to send another flurry of stab, stab, stab, stab. Discarded bark littered the forest floor, revealing wooden innards. Weakened by her ambush, or discouraged by her hostility, the roots peeled away by the will of her hands. Freedom at last. She rolled, and when feet struck ground, she returned to a sprint. Intent on continuing the chase, waiting for the next opportunity to arise.

But with her predicament solved, his words started worming into her brain. Just as the roots had done to her body. Encircling. Ensnaring. Contorting her to a new position, a new viewpoint. What he said struck a chord with her. It did make sense. If Bliss had been stripped from within, she might have even felt sympathy. Or she might have discarded his words as bullshit. She wasn’t sure. The drug wiggled its way through her mind all the same, dancing with his words. James saw the look on her face; tried to remind her about something. Something she couldn’t bring herself to care about now. “Ya gOt A poINt.” She readily admitted, musing out loud. Sprint turned into a brisk jog as her legs lost some of their fire. “So tHOse bODiees ouT thErE. THat’s tHeem?” 

Seeing her break free, Solomon fell into retreat. She was by far the toughest thing he’d encountered in quite some time, and he had apparently grown weak with such easy domination of his foes. Roots slithered back toward him, reforming into his body as he took a few steps back, waiting to see if she would come running at him again.

She did, and he continued to move back, lashing out again and again with the extensions of himself, paralytic thorns whizzing through the air as he tried to put her down a second time.

It wasn’t until he noticed the change in her body language and how her pace had slowed that he too allowed a moment of respite, grasping at a tree trunk as he passed it by, worn down from the constant effort of defending himself. 

“Some of them,” he answered with a growl, pushing off of the tree to keep moving away from her, though it was certainly less energetic at this point. “Others are retaliation… for the centuries of destruction.” The wounds she had left him with were sapping his strength, and after a few more steps, the leshy dropped to one knee and leaned forward, a shudder running down his spine. “Please,” he groaned, “please, don’t… I have to care for this place.”

The tides were turning in Eilidh’s favor, and the cravings enjoyed that very much. Seeing him relent under the weight of his injuries, his actions. The excitement tingled down her arm, her fingers, shaking against the handle of her blade. But she did have standards. It seemed his soul was not as ripe for the picking as she hoped. Virtue could be found in his actions, at least from her type of sensibilities. Disappointing. She had been so close to finishing. He was practically on his knees, waiting to be eaten! She could still continue, just for sustenance instead of satisfying that side of her nature. But as he brought up the need to protect, to provide for the surrounding habitat, Eilidh remembered his own nature. Killing him would remove this forest its guardian. 

She looked to James, her source of moral direction when in this state. He was cautiously eyeing the being, anger clear on his face, but the wink of sympathy in his eyes betrayed him. She recognized it easily, an expression he wore frequently. Always such a gentle soul. But his fleeting moment of empathy sealed the being’s fate. If Eilidh had watched longer, the two would have locked eyes. He would have motioned for her to carry on, frustration and anger and sadness at the other’s cruelty urging his damning hands. He would have sentenced his death. But instead, Eilidh looked away. Considered his importance to the flow of this environment. Considered further still the unreadiness of his soul. Perhaps in another time, another place, it would become much riper. Richer. Delicious. 

“KeEP tHaat shIt ConTained to thOSe wHo HUrt tHiis PLace, or I’lL fiiiND yoU AGain.” Though some of her wished he would go against her words. Ripen his soul. Give her something to truly feast on. With that she started to leave. Footfalls as silent as James’ protest might as well have been, falling on deaf ears. 

[12milfga-blog]

Faigheann soith te fuck - tá siad i gcónaí chun é tar éis an tsaoil

Tá leibhéal eile adharc ann nuair a shroicheann mná a 30í. Cad is féidir a bheith ina chúis áfach? Bhuel easpa gnéis; éiríonn a gcuid fear gnóthach le sceideal daingean san oifig agus tar éis gach dul in aois agus strus tógann sé dola ar a gcuid liathróidí. Mar sin, ag an am seo éiríonn mná faigheann soith te fuck. Ar ndóigh ardaíonn a n-éileamh endorphin go leibhéal éigin eile agus ní dhéanfadh fuck dope simplí. Bíonn a gcuid claontaí ag an mbuaicphointe le linn na tréimhse seo, ach bíonn claonadh ag fir codladh roimh 9 PM ag an aois sin, ní mór do mhná bancáil a dhéanamh ar fhapping. Is léir gur mian leo cineál éigin saoirse agus tá a fhios againn go léir go bhfuil mná i gcoitinne adharcach mar fhuck.

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Tuilleadh - https://www.12milf.com/ga

[rowan-blood]

Locations in alphabetical order (WIP)

A

Agate Bridge Agate Wood Alfidel Alvénya Amber Valley Aon-adharcach Suite Attic of Danann House Avren

B

Beantighe Village

C

Chapel of Proserpina Connacht Connacht's Book Shop Cottage Carlow Cottage Dublin Cottage Galway Cottage Monaghan Cottage Wicklow Cript of the Kyteler School of Arid Magic

D

-

E

-

F

Fall Court

G

Grand Library of Avren

H

Hesper House Athena House Danann House Erce House Freyja House Hermes House Nemain House Pallas

I

-

J

-

K

Kaelar’s Family Home

L

Lake Corsecca Lake Elatha Library of the Kyteler School of Arid Magic Library of Mairwen Academy of the Opulent Arts Library of Morrígan Academy Luvon's Winery

M

Mairwen Academy of the Opulent Arts Morrígan Academy

N

Nymphs' Pond Naoill's Home

O

Obsidien Valley

P

 -

Q

Quartz Creek

R

Ruins of the Kyteler School of Arid Magic

S

Spring Court Summer Court

T

-

U

-

V

-

W

Winter Court

X

-

Y

-

Z

-

[convincingcardboard]

Fearsome Ancient Unicorn Mask Aon-adharcach (unicorn) design based on prehistoric shapes. The unicorn is a ferocious creature. Fearless and terrible. Though it may be made passive by the presence of the pure of heart. It is the national animal of Alba (Scotland). This mask was used at the Glasgow Panopticon's Mad Hatter's Tea Party in 2017. https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/548538338/fearsome-ancient-unicorn-mask

[rowan-blood]

Tags (WIP)

A

Aesthetics Agate Wood Agate Bridge Amber Valley Amethyst Anysta mac Delbaith Aon-adharcach Apple Arid Arid magic user Artwork Aryadna dé Tuatha dé Danann Ashen Asche Avren Author Author's artwork

B

Baba Yaga Basket Beannigue Beantighe Beantighe Village Berry Blade Book 1 Book 2 Book 3 Branch Breeze Briar Broderman ó Caoimháin

C

Caetho Master Cairns Cash Candle Cassila Chandry Changeling Chapel of Proserpina Character Characters Chloem Clarkaus (Glyndwr) Cloth Clymeus Mac Dela Conchobar Connla Connacht Connor mac Nessa Copper dé Bricriu Cottage Carlow Cottage Dublin Cottage Galway Cottage Monaghan Cottage Wicklow Cricket Cript Cylvan dé Tuatha dé Danann

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Danu Day Court Deirdre of the Sorrows Deirdre Derdriu Deirdru of the Sorrows Dewdrop Professor Dullaham

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Eias Lam King Elanyl Elluin mac Darbhy Ériu

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Fall Court Fanart Feather Feda Fern Room Fey Fiachra Fírche Fleece Flower Sprites Foundling

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Goldie Ghosts of Danann House Ghosts of Human Students Glyndwr (Clarkaus)

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Hearth Hector Henmother Herald of the Witch's Mark High Fey Hollow HOTWM House Athena House Danann House Erce House Freyja House Hermes House Nemain House Pallas Human

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Icarus Ira Iron Witch

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Kaelar ó Caoimháin Kelpie Kyteler School

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Lake Corsecca Lake Elatha Leaf Lettuce Letty Library Locations Lord of Silver Ashes LOSA Luvon Mag Shamhradháin

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Maeve dé Bhaldraithe Magic Magnin Malric Memory Threads Marks Merith Morrígan Academy Myths

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Naisi Naoill dé Fianna Naoise Néah Nem Niamh Night Court Nimue Nora Everhart Nymphs' Pond

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Obsidien Valley Ogham Oisín Opulent Opulence

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Pepper Pin Pimbry Scott Pixie Pixies Pocket POTS Prince Cylvan Prince of the Sorrows Proserpina's Silver Queen Proserpina 

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Quartz Creek Quiet

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Rainbow Pixies Ribbon Reference Rowan Blood Rowan Trees Rowan Witch Royal Family Ryder Kyteler

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Saffron Salma Saoirse Silk Silver Sionnach Splinter Spring Court Spring Witch Sunbeam Sybil

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Tags Taran Taran  mac Delbaith The Fox and the Dryad TFATD Thread King Tross

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Verity Holt Vine Virtue Holt

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Wax Wikipedia Wild Fey Winter Court Wip Wolf The Wolf The Wolf King

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Yama

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[rowan-blood]

Cylvan (WIP contains Spoilers)

He/Him

Alternative names: Dragon-head (called by Saffron, Book 1 Chapter 1) Connor mac Nessa (called by Saffron, Book 1 Chapter 5) My Raven, Pretty raven (called by Saffron) My fairy Prince (called by Saffron)

Full name: Cylvan dé Tuatha dé Danann

True name: Sybil

Kind: High Fey

Age: ~125 years (source) (Book 1)

Birthday: 30th of April (source)

Magic: Opulent

Sídhe Ability: Wind-Air

Level: High

Ocupation: Prince of Alfidel Student

Status: Alive

Location : Avren, Spring Court (Book 3) Mairwen Academy, Spring Court (Book 3) Aon-adharcach, House Danann, Morrígan Academy, Spring Court (Book 1, Book 2) Mairwen Academy, Spring Court (before Book 1) Winter Court (born)

Born: Winter Court, Alfidel

Family: King Ailir (father) Naoill (mother) Tross (parent) Asche (sibling) Fírche (sibling) Néah (sister) Nem (sibling) King Elanyl (grandfather) Aryadna dé Tuatha dé Danann (great-grandmother)

Relationships: Saffron (lover: Book 1 - Book 2, fiancé: Book 3) Glass (friend: before Book 1) Taran mac Delbaith (childhood friend: before Book 1, enemy: Book 1 - Book 2, ex-fiancé: Book 3)

Affiliation: Alfidel's Royal Family Humans

Family crest: Barn owl encircled by fern stems and thorns.

Jewelry: Amethyst pendant with silver chain and sun (Book 2) Silver Cuff Bracelet given by Taran (to confine Cylvan to Dannan House, Book 1) Gold nipple piercings

Description: Long wavy black hair Black carved horns Pale Black sharp nails Amethyst eyes Beauty mark under right eye Pointed ears Broad Shouldered At least a head taller than Saffron (not including his horns) Well endowed Scary at first Kind once he warms up to you Resourceful Smart Top of his class at Morrígan Third best of his class at Mairwen Messy Moody Broody

Likes: Saffron Playing the violin Myths Theology Old magic

Dislikes: People touching his things

Allergies: Apples

TAGGED CYLVAN

art by @morlevart (full size on twitter)

[sgribhisg]

LATHA NÀISEANTA AN AON-ADHARCAICH

'S e Latha Nàiseanta an Aon-Adharcaich a th' ann an-diugh. Is e an t-aon-adharcach beathach nàiseanta na h-Alba.

[It is National Unicorn Day today. The unicorn is Scotland's national animal.]

🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime airson Aon-Adharcach leis an Fhaclair Bhig: http://bit.ly/2D904I9 🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime airson Aon-Adharcach le Learn Gaelic: http://bit.ly/2G2foHj

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[sgribhisg]

LATHA NÀISEANTA AN AON-ADHARCAICH 'S e Latha Nàiseanta an Aon-Adharcaich a th' ann an-diugh.  Is e an t-aon-adharcach beathach nàiseanta na h-Alba. [It is National Unicorn Day today.  The unicorn is Scotland's national animal.] Fuaim airson Aon-Adharcach leis an Fhaclair Bheag: http://bit.ly/2D904I9 Fuaim airson Aon-Adharcach le Learn Gaelic: http://bit.ly/2G2foHj

[sgribhisg]

AON-ADHARCACH

[Unicorn]

Fireann IPA: ɯːn ɤ.əRgəx 🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime leis an Fhaclair Bhig: http://bit.ly/2D904I9 🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime le Learn Gaelic: http://bit.ly/2G2foHj

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