YOUNG GOD | RHYSAND [ON HOLD]

1.05 | THE SURIEL

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Aadya was engrossed in her reading when she saw Feyre silently waking into the woods equipped with a bow and quiver in her back, the glistening of the metal of Lucien's knife at Feyre's side caught her eye. When the smell of dead chicken hit her, Aadya knew Lucien had spinned something ridiculous method about how to catch a Suriel. As much as she would go back to her reading, she couldn't. So Aadya followed Feyre into woods like a panther.

Feyre kept her steps light, her ears and eyes open as she marched forward in search for the answers. She found a glen of young, skinny birch trees, then stalked in ever-widening circles until she encountered the nearest stream. Lucien had said to find running water, and this was close enough to make escape possible. As she began to set up her snare a now familiar voice made her jump out of her skin.

"I'm curious," Aadya lazily drawled "What important answers do want that you are desperate enough to take Lucien's ridiculous suggestion to catch a Suriel?" Feyre turned around to see  the brunette leaning on a tree with raised eyebrows as she questioned her. Feyre gulped before answering, "I didn't know you were in the court."

"Clearly."

"Please don't take me back to the estate. I really need to find answers to the million questions that I have." The desperation was clear in the human's voice as she begged the woman in front of her. Aadya's expression didn't wary as she voiced her decision, "As per Tamlin's request I'm supposed to keep you alive. So," with a lazy wave of her hand at the surroundings, "do whatever you want. I will not interfere, but I'm staying."

Feyre gave a grateful nod towards her before turning back to the small clearing encircled by those white trees and laid her snare.

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From her spot up a nearby tree, Feyre waited. And waited. The afternoon sun crept overhead, hot enough even though the canopy that she had to shrug off her cloak and roll up the sleeves of her tunic. She pulled a hunk of cheese out of her rucksack and started nibbling on it. When she finished it off, she swigged water from the canteen she'd brought, parched from the heat.

Feyre dared to glance at the woman who placed herself on a rock in the otherside of the stream, with her eyes closed as the wind ruffled her brown locks. This was the calmest Feyre had seen Aadya right from the day when she stepped into the spring court. Feyre had to bite down on her toungue to ask the older woman about the person, her, Lucien had mentionedto her, but willed herself to turn away.

Both the girls alerted when the birds came soaring out of the canopy. This had been a very bad idea, Feyre thought to herself. Aadya's non-assuring words about Tamlin's request was the only thing keeping her from panicking. She knew Aadya wouldn't let let her die. Or she hoped. There was a snap, a whoosh, and a hollowed-out, wicked scream that made the girls shiver.

Another shriek pierced the forest, and the snares Feyre had laid groaned as they held, and held, and held. Feyre climed out of the tree and went to meet the Suriel with one last glance at Aadya, who was watching the creature with carefull eyes.

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"Are you one of the Suriel?"

The faerie went rigid. And sniffed. Once. Twice.

Then slowly it turned towards Feyre, the dark veil draped over it's bald headblowing in a phantom breeze.

A face that looked like it had been crafted from dried, weather-worn bone, it's skin either forgotten or discarded, a lipless mouth and too-long teeth held by blackened gums, slitted holes for nostrils, and eyes... eyes that were nothing more than swirling pits of milky white--the white of death, the white of sickness, the white of clean-picked corpses.