I see a bad moon rising

[indiscreet]

Who: the Huntress (Anna) and “lucky” you (OPEN)
What: breaking down and going full True Fae, for your pleasure and entertainment
Where: ~moonpools~
When: the night after the Missions conclude
Notes: For the binding in question, see this log. Also, the Huntress is fun, but difficult, to write... so tags may be on the slow side.
Warnings: creepiness, and possible triggery-ness. This is the sort of character who will casually talk of violence and of using mortal humans as playthings. Oh, and skinny dipping.

The worst part of the fog, she thought, had been the way it had clawed at not just her body, but her mind. Yes, there had been dangers of the kind she could shoot, but that hadn’t really been the point of them, had it? They were a distraction, more like, as sharp teeth and serpents drained whatever mental resolve had been keeping Anna and the Huntress separate.

She had remembered things, out in the fog, from before she was Anna. Beautiful, vivid, perfect hunts through Arcadian forests, chasing deer that had once been mortals. Crimson blood is so very striking on white fur, and white skin.

Anna recalled hearing about the moonpools, when she first arrived in Baedal. They had interested her, then, but -- the realization had hit her suddenly, after Nuala’s binding -- not because of the part of her that was Anna. Now, that barrier is crumbling, and covering herself in liquid moonlight seems like exactly the recovery she is owed. She rubs her thumb along the embroidered ribbon tied about her left wrist. The stitching is frayed, though she can’t recall how it got that way.

And she loves the forest at night, doesn’t she? Hasn’t she always? It’s so easy to get there, her power quickening her feet. There’s a flicker of a thought: that she ought to hold back, that there is something she shouldn’t be doing. But her mind is tired, and glamour is heavy. Silly to wear one, and she shrugs it off, lightning streaming through her dark hair and over her pale skin. A sigh of relief: how light she feels, like she had forgotten how it felt to be anything but clumsy and heavy.

The Huntress scatters Anna’s clothing over the moss and the ferns, and slides herself into a silvery pool.

Comments

[heardmermaids.livejournal.com]

Once the plague had lifted and Sebastian had been able to work through his priorities: get a proper shower, meal, and most importantly, a good night's sleep at the guild hall. Next on the list of necessities was at least a little bit of time to himself. With his own apartment currently off-limits and the threat of Death Eaters in the city, a short walk through the woods around the moonpools was a reasonable substitute for going home, locking the door, and ignoring the world for a few hours.

Admittedly, in this frame of mind, he's paying less attention to his surroundings (provided he gets no twinge of incoming Death Eaters) than he ought to.

[wandandsickle]

It's in Jones's nature to worry; after all, she's been more or less filling the role of substitute mother all her twenty-four years. And in the absence of siblings to worry about, she worries about Anna.

They saw some strange, unsettling things in the fog out there, on their mission, and Jones fears that Anna might have seen some more unsettling things than most, given her slightly odd behavior following their adventure. So it's for that reason she seeks her out, and it's in doing so that she catches a trace of something... familiar. Something she thought she wouldn't have to worry about again, but apparently not—

It seems the Huntress rides again. Wonderful. As Primogen Barrett—Mina—would probably say, bloody wonderful.

The forest is dark, but the dark has never been one of her fears. She walks, purposefully, letting her magical senses guide her, until she stumbles upon the moonpool.