The night drags on, late or early depending upon one's perception. Beside the bed, the clock flashes 2:38 and as spring neared its end, summer crept onwards bringing with it the sticky humidity that particular season occasionally espouses.

And just like Summer, sometimes hard to be around.

Outside Nightfall's bedroom window, something taps and taps against the glass repetitively and in no apparent rhythm.


The nights had been getting later and later; first, waiting for Summer vigilantes, then, ambushed by thoughts and memories. Memories all the way back to Grace and Lisaundra, and the first months of his freedom -- from Arcadia, and from the Courts.

At first the tapping is ignored, perhaps a bird is confused, or a branch is caught on the gutter. As much as his thoughts need interrupting, it soon becomes annoying enough for him to swing up to a sitting position. A brief pause, then he pulls out a fine wooden box and takes one of Myah's gifts in hand before moving over to the window.

The silent footsteps and trickles of humid sweat are reminders.


It was plain to see and it glowed with an intense light, a small wisp fluttering to-and-fro, into the window and then away, turning to have another try.

No, not a wisp. A butterfly. Perhaps the most radiant butterfly in existence. Its wings move swiftly in the night, creating a subtle afterglow in their wake, two trailing lines of white light.

Nightfall watches the contrails of light for a few moments, wondering if he's dreaming. He touches his chest lightly, thinking of the Wyrd within, that he thinks of as a Will O' the Wisp. Thoughts dissipate, half-formed in his tired mind, and the Fairest finally just responds to the beauty, wanting a closer look.

Reaching out, he opens the window, then takes a step back. A hand comes up, long fingers spread, like a child waiting for a butterfly to land on them.


The butterfly flutters through the open window, seemingly glad to be out of the night air and briefly touches Nightfall's hand, kissing his skin with its antennae before the wings of light took it on a circuit of the room until it settled on the floor beside his bed, almost waiting, watching, judging.


Nightfall waits for the other shoe to drop, even going to peer back through the window again. Satisfied, but still curious, he gave a small shrug. Myah's knife went back where it came from, and then he crossed over to the studio kitchen. Taking the bottom saucer from a teacup, he filled it with water, then added a pinch of Kool-Aid and three pinches of sugar.

A pause; the saucer was set down.

He bent over to fish his bottle of vodka out of the freezer and took a long swallow. Gasping, then wiping his eyes on a shoulder, he put the bottle up. He returned to the other side of the room, setting the saucer on the window sill.

"Za Vas," he whispered a toast to the butterfly, laying back down.


The butterfly peers at the saucer and then steps back.

A bright light flashes in the room.

The butterfly is gone, in a manner of speaking. Instead, an enchanting woman with a butterfly-mien stands before Nightfall, the light not entirely fading and she looks upon the Fairest with curiosity.

"And you must be Nightfall," she whispers with a voice that could inspire the most distraught soul with its buoyancy as she leans upon her staff, the disorientation of such a bodily change highly nauseating.

Beast, Windwing/Bright One, Striking Looks 2 (Enchanting), Mantle (Dawn) 4



He almost jumped; if he'd had more time, he probably would have.

While it wasn't the first time he'd found himself in his apartment, just in boxers, with a pretty woman, it was the first time he felt awkward about it. Still, it was more of a give me a moment awkward than disaster awkward.

"Hey, have a seat," he said, patting the bed as he jumped back up. "Are you OK? Yes, that's me," came a muffled voice as he buried himself in his closet.

Entertaining strange butterflies in your boxers was one thing; strange women was another -- he needed a shirt.

After a moment's reflection on the pretty features and bewitching eyes, he added pants to the list.

"Thank you," she replies quite sweetly as Nightfall bustles around for clothes before adding, "I do apologize for being so dramatic in my entrance. I find it usually does the trick. Perhaps I should start over." She pushes herself from the seat and holds out her hand which still shone behind the skin. "My name is Arianna."

Nightfall took the offered hand, curiosity bouncing in ten different directions.

"No, not at all, it was very polite," he said inanely. "I'm Nightfall."

Which, she already knew, but he thought he'd re-state it, given the two most likely reasons she was here -- that he could think of;

First, that Summer had hired her as a distraction; Second, that it was starting to get around about how good he was in bed.


"I know, I heard of you while on my travels," Arianna confessed. "A number of rumours flew alongside the name of Nightfall. The most recent of which caught my ear." Her antennae twitched as she looked over him. "It seems you are without a Mantle my young Fairest. Is this a choice of yours or a matter that was forced?"

The question surprised him, but in retrospect it shouldn't have. It had all begun with Grace and Lisaundra, hadn't it? And, ultimately the decision had been made because of the way Grace had behaved about her personal feelings. Of the four, Desire and Sorrow pulled him the strongest -- but not so much he needed them.

Not so much he wouldn't walk away rather than...

"A choice," he said, smiling slightly, but without humor.

"To every thing there is a Season, and a time for every purpose under the heavens," he added.

For Nightfall, it was no longer Winter.

"And what if there is more than just the Seasons?" she asked, retaking her seat and crossing her legs under the dress. The staff, she allowed to lean against the wall just beyond her reach.

"Would you sacrifice everything for them, for the freehold that seems to be against you despite all that you have done for them? Could you truly give yourself to their cause?" Arianna posed the question to Nightfall but it seemed that she was perhaps speaking to herself also, a struggle that had perhaps been the bane of her own existence.

"Not The Seasons, Arianna," Nightfall replied, pulling the chair away from his desk.

"A Season. It's from Ecclesiastes:

1To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heavens:
2A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."


He recited the verses from memory, the legacy of a good Jewish boy's upbringing. It was a mantra that had kept him sane, and smiling. It was something he tried to teach a Fairest that wanted to fight; a Manticoress that had forgotten how to smile; a King that had forgotten how to be tolerant.


"We've all come back for something, for some purpose," he tried to explain, standing up again, walking, trying to articulate what he knew to be true.

"I've always been willing to fight for, and defend, the Freehold... but what is their cause? To simply exist? To ignore their own potential?" he asked rhetorically, wondering if she was a manifestation of the Wyrd, sent to judge and sentence him for sundering the Seasonal pact.

"Sure," he said, anticlimactically, stopping to look at Arianna.

"I would, because maybe one day they'll see what I see. A time for every purpose under the heavens."

"Are you here to kill me?"


Arianna starts to laugh, quietly at first but it builds and builds until she is clutching her stomach, and with each tightening of her abdominal muscles, her skin flickers bright which spread through her wings that are folded together behind her. When she finally gains some composure, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve.

"Oh, Nightfall, you are amusing. I have heard of your humor but still, it surprises me. No, I am not here to kill you." Her antenae twitch as Arianna cocks her head towards the Fairest. "And even if I was, would I succeed? I mean, as the rumors go, you are marvelous in that area; a prodigy even." Her eyes twinkled like starlights.

"Nightfall, I am here to offer you another path, one that is not walked in this city; a path of salvation."

He wanted to laugh, or cry, or simply asked her who put her up to this. He closed his eyes and tried to feel what was missing -- or what simply was different than he was used to. Why her presence made him want to talk, to explain; why he wanted to believe her; why the word salvation made him wonder about her Mantle.

"I've been waiting for you, haven't I?" he asked with smiling nod. "All this time, and I didn't know it."

Was this what the Wyrd needed him to learn? Desire and Sorrow, but ruled by neither? One to guide his steps, the other to light the way? He almost reached out to hug her, to kiss her, feeling the intimacy of a shared truth, but refrained, waiting to hear her explain what he'd been trying to find the words for.


"Perhaps, they do say the Wyrd moves in mysterious ways. But what I offer isn't to be taken lightly. Salvation, sacrifice, hope, change. All words that have powerful meanings, words that resonate through the world. However, every single action has a price. The question is, are you willing to pay it and accept what you are meant to be?"

"What do I have left to give?" he asked. It was a question, and the beginning of an agreement, as he turned over the four words in his mind.

"Just yourself, completely and utterly. But know one thing; this Court or its rival, must never rule Sacramento. It is a pact that is written within its very core, the foundation upon which the freehold is built. If a courtier of Salvation or Doom wears the crown, the gates to Arcadia will open. Do you understand?" Arianna's tone was one of absolute conviction almost as if she had witnessed such an act.

Nightfall's brows furrowed as he considered her words; he'd never had any desire to rule anything -- but of course the Court had a rival. Balance.

"They must always be allowed to choose?" he asked, curious for the reasoning. It was a reason he agreed with, but he was still curious.

Every sunrise had a sunset; without one a scorched earth; without the other -- the chill of eternal night.


"Indeed. Either one cannot be forced upon their lives. It is only through their own Desires, Wrath, Fears and Sorrow that will bring them to the path that we espouse, Nightfall." Her eyes move away from him to the bedroom window where the first of the sun's rays begin to touch the horizon and her wings flutter.

"The time is upon us," Arianna declares, uncrossing her legs and moving to stand beside the potential new courtier.

"Are you ready to join the Court of Dawn?"

"I am," Nightfall replied. Because he had been, perhaps, for a long time. He squinted slightly as the sun began to touch the room, and looked at Dawn's emissary.


Arianna stood behind Nightfall so she could speak directly into his ear as the sun took them both in its early embrace. "Change is possible; the potential for a better future exists. However, every victory has its price. It is our sweat that turns the wheel, our tears that moves the mountain, and our blood that sweeps away the chains. Nothing good comes without cost, be it hard work, denial or sacrifice. We are the agents of out own salvation. The future is in our hands, Nightfall." She steps away as a building crescendo erupts within the Fairest just when every single part of his body is kissed in sunlight, a Mantle flaring to life that brings with it the feeling of alertness and potential action; an aura of impending transition.

"Welcome to the Bloody Rose, the Auroral Court and the Court of Salvations."


Nightfall felt the morning light on his face, warming him as Winter never could. And it was light; not the scorching heat of Summer, using the sun as a hammer, but the light of a new day -- the light of revelation.

"What will the other Courts say?" he asked softly.

He watched the darkness of night retreat from the breaking dawn, and remembered that every beginning has an end; every end, a beginning.

This had a beginning.

"It's Barkley, isn't it? Sam and I."


Nightfall feels something brush upon the back of his neck; her antenae as she nods.

"You both are the catalysts to doom and salvation and no doubt you will be bitter rivals and great friends in equal measure. As for the Seasons, they will doubt you both, deride you, belittle you, ignore you, fear you, envy you, hate you and in time, come to accept you. They may even call on you when the freehold is in dire need. This is the path you have chosen and it is the toughest road to travel but it is also the most satisfying. We bring the light to those without."

"You sound as if you're leaving," Nightfall replied, although it was unnecessary. There were countless questions, but most he knew the answer to, as he considered them.


Arianna moves back towards her staff and picks it up to lean on it. "I must. I was invited for this one purpose only and I mustn't out stay my welcome otherwise she will come for me with pointless questions and subtle musings." With a light chuckle, she looks back up into Nightfall's eyes as she steps closer, taking one hand up to his hair and trying to brush it straight to no avail.

"Oh well, it will come in time; all answers come in time. I suppose that is why it is the most precious commodity of all." Arianna steps back and waits just the briefest moment in case the newest member of the Dawn has anything he wished to say.

Nightfall's brows furrow slightly as he digests the words, both what is said, and what is insinuated. It's unfathomable, and he remembers Adin's refusal. He grins slightly at the hand, having seen more than one woman surrender to the impossible task.

"Thank you for coming," he says simply. "I will do my best."

For the first time in a long time, he felt as if he belonged.


"I trust you will. Until next time," Arianna says before a flash emanates from her body and the bright butterfly once again hovers in her place, takes a circuit of Nightfall's bedroom before fluttering from the window in a trail of light and hope.


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