milliways_bar | (no subject)

Once upon a midnight dreary, as the whispering of something O so eerie, comes a rapping, comes a flapping, from the front door. An unwholesome green glow the wood does limn, though without even a crack does the noise come in, growing louder, growing prouder, across the floor.

With a sudden feathered flap, and a thundering clap, a raven is seen unfurling into a queen (whose usual vices for leather and silk, have been transformed into a commoner's ilk).

"Oh no, my dear. We can do much better."

With a barely repressed sneer she picks at the skirt; a little more leather could never hurt. And so, with a snap, and a swirl of black smoke, the ribbons and velvet are replaced with a cloak; deep as night, black as thought, with a form-fitting dress underneath, as one ought.

She sits, one heeled boot on a rung; and with eyes crying mischief, she looks for some fun.

[OoC: Couldn't resist the opportunity to have the Evil Queen around for some mischief. Want an evil witch to mess with your pups? Regina has no qualms doing so, any and all effects completely temporary of course. I am reachable on AIM as LordoLorien for any questions. Let it be noted that Regina won't mess with your pup without explicit permission - she can be civil, and I'm A-OK with an easy conversation thread. But if you're looking for an opporutnity to be mean to your pup, she's just the magic-practicer to facilitate it. >:D

Open foreverrrr, subject to slowness because my laptop is a piece of junk.]

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He practically leaps off the chair--but if Regina's paying attention, the movie is far too graceful to be borne of panic or unsuspecting surprise. There's a faint laugh on his lips as he lands on the floor silently, cocking his head at her. She's attractive enough, and regal, that he can tell.

"A Queen, then," the fae murmurs, as if in conclusion to a silent argument.

It only seems to delight her. She chuckles, a warm cackle as if by water splashing over stones, earthy and low. Her smile is vivid, and not simply for the sanguine color of her lips. All attempts at magic cease, as a parley of respect to an opposing noble.

"And a prince?" she questions, fully aware that his position might in fact be higher than that. She mustn't be too eager to ascribe more than what is due, of course.

He laughs, and bows to her, albeit not low enough to give her leverage were she to turn violent. "A king, lady," he says, eyes lighting up as if the midnight blue were backlit by a star.

"Finvarra, High King of the Daoine Sidhe," Finn introduces, standing back up to his full height. "It has been a great while indeed since I have met one like you. Well met on this good night."

"Oh, high king," she hums, tilting an eyebrow and lowering her head. One doesn't conjure a great deal of respect from the gesture, but it is a gesture nonetheless. "And you a fairy? Yes, it's been some time indeed since I've seen a fairy of your design."

She makes as if imparting a secret: "They happen to be much smaller in my kingdom."

He laughs, an echo of ghostly sound following it as he clasps his hands behind him, choosing his steps carefully as he comes around towards her. "Oh, are they? We're not strictly fairies, not as most mortals know them, but close."

His people fall into none of the regimented courts of other fairies; neither Seelie nor Unseelie, Winter nor Summer. They're slightly less...predictable. "Being much smaller would make it the devil to go about as one of you, now, wouldn't it?"

Her head slowly turns, following his every move despite the way her obsidian eyes remain riveted on his. There's a playful tilt to her mouth, but for all appearances she is a panther primed to strike.

A chuckle bubbles from her mouth. "I imagine it would, though I find your kind much sneakier, preferring to remain unseen as they scheme." He garners a once-over. "Why would a high king want to blend in with the rest of us?"

"To find what you desire most," he says. "And to take it."

He's no stranger to malice and mischief, sometimes together and more often apart. He can come in dreams and in daylight both, taking the young and exuberant back with him to the faery world.

It's not for nothing that his people have the reputation of child-stealers.

Like blood from a wound, red lips spread in sinister delight. Her chest expands, a green fire burning deep in her eyes.

"It sounds as if we have similar interests."

"Does it?" he asks, watching that smile bloom on her mouth as he moves closer on silent steps. "Perhaps you ought to widen your gaze a bit. See how similar we really are."