xix. the road to thorn.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋. The two were feast upon the fae harvest, gorging themselves upon the delectable meals catered in colourful crescents and tiers. It's the second day of the festival, and neither of the fae seem to be letting up on the week-long festivities, most of them already drunkenly stumbling about. At least the were seem level-headed, even if they are influenced by the whimsy of the occasion. Music plays through instruments, and Elowen thought she'd be lured in towards the sound. Last night, she was lost in the tempos and melodies of the cellos, but every note now seems so dull compared to the song on Morrow's violin. It's like all she wants to hear is him.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen sits beside Arion, frowning at how he sniffs the air around her. She knows exactly what he's doing, and what thoughts run through his mind.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He breaks out into a grin. "You smell like Morrow."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Don't I always?" Elowen rouses. "I even scrubbed myself multiple times just to make sure his scent wasn't on me."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea laughs, reaching across the table to clasp onto Arion's palm. "You owe me 100 coins now."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"No, I don't."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I bet that she would shag Morrow, and all the evidence points towards that being the truth. Even Morrow was acting strange this morning, so...?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen frowns, making her distaste for their little bet known. She didn't entirely shag Morrow... they just released tension, tension that's been building and building until it's ready to be torn down time and time again.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Arion releases a disagreeing growl. "Morrow was acting strange because he was summoned by the witches."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mere mention of the witches acts like a looming cloud over their heads. The were didn't arrive in Yestrea to plaster themselves on fae spirits. There was a goal to convince Novus to grant Morrow some of his magic, but all of that seems to have fallen to the backburner with Morrow's summons to Scaerus.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen lowers her voice, hoping that no sneaky pixies can eavesdrop on them. "How often do the witches summon Morrow?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Cordea's cheeks pale as she meets Arion's cautious hues. Morrow's ordeal with the witches has always been a hush-hush operation for the were, never spoken about aloud and only behind closed doors. Although, his witches' magic and tampering has always been blatantly obvious.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Sometimes months apart," Cordea begins. "But more recently, it's been a matter of weeks between visits."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"He wouldn't be summoned if he never dealt with them in the beginning," Arion spits out. "He's playing a game he's bound to lose. If he loses, we all fucking lose too."

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