𝐄𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | •𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐰•

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝟏

Take my hand

𓇢𓆸 𓆤 𖧧 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𖧧 𓍊𓋼 𔓘

𝕄𝔼𝕃𝕆𝔻𝕐 stood stoically beside Philo, his hands tightly wrapped in black bandages, both of them immersed in the tumultuous atmosphere of the cheering crowd gathered to witness the unfolding fight. The cheers were not evenly distributed; Philo, being a copper, faced a barrage of disdain from many, while Melody, despite her own struggles, still maintained a semblance of rapport with the people.

Her ability to connect with others stemmed from a certain finesse that eluded Philo. However, even Melody couldn't escape the undercurrent of distaste directed towards her. A veil of secrecy shrouded her true identity and the fact that she was kin to Philo, who bore the burden of being a half-blood. The crowd's prejudices lingered, creating a palpable tension in the air, yet Melody navigated the social intricacies with a resilience that hinted at her strength beyond the surface.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊.

Vign concealed himself within the shadows on the balcony of a building, his silhouette merging with the darkness. His overgrown hair partially veiled his face as he deftly moved it aside, revealing a focused expression. In the clandestine operation, his nimble fingers worked to sever the menacing barbed wires strewn across their side of the city, a precautionary measure to impede the flight of the fae.

Behind him, a fae man and woman maintained a vigilant watch, scouting the surroundings to ensure their clandestine activities remained undetected. Vign's every calculated movement seemed to align with a greater purpose, the soft metallic clinks of wire meeting the wire cutter echoing against the hushed backdrop of the nocturnal city. In this covert dance between shadows and secrets, Vign's actions spoke of a determined resistance against the constraints imposed upon the fae in their own domain.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊.

As Vign deftly sliced through one of the wires, a subtle but unmistakable sound resonated, sending a signal through the silent night air. Instantly alert, Vign retreated behind the safety of a nearby wall, melting into the shadows to avoid the probing beams of the officers' flashlights. The officers exchanged hushed words; their curiosity piqued by the unexpected disturbance.

"Did you hear that?" one officer queried, prompting a cautious response from his companion, "Yeah. What was it?" The tense moment hung in the air, amplified by the anticipation of discovery. However, the serendipitous flutter of pigeon wings intervened, and a copper dismissed the disturbance with a casual remark, "It's just pigeons, mate. Come on." Relieved, the officers continued their patrol, unknowingly sparing Vign from their scrutiny.

Seizing the opportune moment, Vign adorned his hood and gracefully navigated through the remaining barriers, taking to the air with an exhilarating burst of wings. In the dark night sky, he soared with a newfound sense of freedom, a grin playing on his lips as the rush of wind and the rhythmic beating of his fae wings filled the void left by the cut wires. Above the clouds, an expression of awe adorned his face, mirroring the sheer joy of rediscovering the euphoria of flight. Behind him, the other two fae followed, their silhouettes dancing against the moonlit canvas as they embraced the clandestine liberation of the fae in flight.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊.

The ominous figure with long horns and pointed ears, adorned in a grey suit and coat, revealed himself as Uncle Boz. A sinister chuckle escaped his grey-bearded visage as he addressed the gathered crowd, his words dripping with a malevolent anticipation, "Your Uncle Boz has a special treat for you tonight." The ominous atmosphere heightened as he continued, "Who wants to see a fucking copper get what's coming to him?" The group erupted in cheers, their collective anticipation palpable. With a theatrical flourish, Boz introduced their unsuspecting victim, none other than Rycroft Philostrate, who reluctantly stepped forward into the hostile circle. The crowd responded with a cacophony of boos and threatening gestures directed at the copper. Amidst the chaos, Boz, revelling in the sadistic thrill of the moment, called for a temporary pause. "Well, hold on. Hold on a bit. Our champions here are worn out. It wouldn't be fair to make them fight a copper all by themselves now, would it?" he suggested, his sly smile amplifying the sinister undertones of the night.