✦ 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ✦

Ten

Morrigan, as Mala soon realized was not one to be doubted when it came to design and glamour. The female had one of the greatest fashion senses Mala had ever witnessed, and had a keen eye for bewitching gowns and attire.

When she had first arrived to Nyx's suite she had taken one look at Mala and whisked her off. To another closet, and impossibly, it was even bigger than Nyx's. There was an array of ball gowns, revealing and concealing alike, but mainly scanty dresses, showing more than Mala would usually like.

Mor, is what she told Mala to call her, fitted her in an array of outfits, ranging from pantsuits to bathing suits, for whatever reason.

She didn't question Mor though, having faith the female would do what she normally did, and let Mala borrow her clothes for the time being.

For how long she'd be borrowing clothes here, Mala didn't know. That scared her, the thought if being stuck here forever. Not ever seeing her parents, her family, her court, her people, her home, ever again—
Panic tore at her heart every second she was stuck in this world, her fire constantly endangering everyone around her. She hadn't wielded any of her powers for as long as she was here, and they were quickly filling up to the brim. The well of her powers tremendously deep, it gave off the impression of never ending potential. She controlled the pressure to release, and to let go of any restraint; it would threaten Cassian, Nyx, Mor, and everyone else who lived in Velaris. As a princess, she could never imagine what it would be like to loose such a thriving and lively city, heartbreakingly and agonizing.

It was evident, anyhow, how high in the hierarchy of the Night Court Cassian, Mor, and Nyx were. With Cassian being a general, Nyx's intimidating presence, and the vast amount of luxuries Mor and the rest of them had at their disposal. She needed to be mindful of their standing, and to look out for any threats, and she assumed there were a shit ton for them if they were that influential in their court.

There was also the question of if the fae here possessed powers of any kind. The Illyrians had wings, so it wouldn't surprise Mala if there weren't any other things the fae of the Night Court were hiding. To add onto that, there were also other courts in Prythian. She vaguely remembered the map at the Illyrian encampment. Recalling courts such as the Spring and Dawn, but not much of anything else.

Hours seemed to pass, where Mala and Mor filled the silence with their endless chatting. Agreeing on color schemes and aesthetics, combinations and accessories. Their connection with each other was almost instantaneous, the way they felt completely at ease with one another. Gone was any ounce of awkwardness Mala had felt with Cassian or Nyx, replaced with feeling wholly aware of how bizarre it was that her and Mor felt so extensively comfortable in the other's presence. If there was fate in this world, for one moment Mala was glad it was there, because it had led Mala to meet Mor, who wasn't afraid to critique a hard worked on gown or remark on how comically funny it looked on Mala's figure.

The Gods were dead, Mala knew. Her mother had killed them. Then how? How was Mala able to travel to Prythian, to the Night Court, to meet fae like Nyx and Mor, to experience happiness even when she felt herself slowly dying thinking about the people she left in another world. Guilt ate away at her, biting out hunks of her heart, making her feel heartless, unfeeling. Her heart, shriveled, all thought in her mind vanished if she let the culpability of her actions take her over. She felt so much shame that she was happy here, a different place than her home, somewhere she knew absolutely nothing about, but felt the strongest desire to stay in. The people here: Nyx, Cassian, and Mor, had shown her a kindness, without knowing her full name, where she was from, what she intended to, knowing nothing about her. Yet, Mor was here laughing about how the suit Mala was trying on made her look like a spiffy male aristocrat. Such warmth and tenderness that was gained for the other in the brief hours that they stood together, with none of them retaining any sort of stiffness or discomfort.

Mala had to let Mor know though, she couldn't raise the chances their newfound friendship with each other to be ruined by her being deceitful in any way.

So she told Mor everything. About Terresan, about the Wyrdgate, about her mother, and about the cruel and deceased Gods. Mor attempted multiple times to retain a vacant expression, but it failed, shock continuously etching her face when Mala told her something surprising. Which was quite often.

When Mala finished, she realized Mor was looking up. Raising her head to search for what Mor was staring at, she found nothing out of the ordinary.

Mor suddenly lowered her gaze back at Mala. She spoke swiftly, hurriedly, "I need you to come with me Mala, quickly, the High Lord and Lady wish to speak with you urgently."

~tev <3