death incarnate & night triumphant

Those nightmares that so plagued the Fae male has him chased from his bed far sooner than he would have liked. The moon had not even set as he sits up abruptly in his bed, sweat coating his powerful body. His wings are carefully arranged behind his back so those sharp edges don't dig into the mattress. His chest heaves as he stands from the bed, entirely naked, and makes his way towards the connecting bathroom, slipping into the heated infinity pool with a shudder that runs the length of his spine as that hot water hits his wings. Sighing in relief as he adjusts to the heat, he floats along in silence, his hearing muffled by the water. Too soon that restlessness rushes him from the pool and into clothes.

Again, that sigh runs through him as he feels his wings sink back into him despising how very confined he felt. Perhaps one day he would live in a world where hiding his wings would not be necessary. Rolling his shoulders, he glances out the window watching the moon finally begin to set, though night persists; as if it was holding on for as long as it could. Andras wouldn't mind if darkness covered the entire world; there was beauty in that darkness and terror too yet, there were many darkness's it was only a matter of how you looked at it.

Still, it is with that thought that is trailing Andras as he exits his estate, that cool air kissing his exposed skin on his neck as he strolls down the sidewalk, his hands so casually placed in his pant pockets. He walks for a time, enjoying the silence of the night, too early for anyone to be awake and hardly too late for those who spent restless night like him out and about. Though he relishes that silence, the sleepy city not daring to make too much noise, he finds that impatience in him growing, he needed to be in the sky, riding those air currents, simply flying until his wings could no longer hold him aloft.

Yet, dawn was far too close.

Andras couldn't take the chance he would be seen and by the time he made it to his favorite meadow, that sun would break over the mountains. Rolling his neck, he finds himself at all small park, nothing terribly excited, merely a few benches and a handful of picnic tables; already there were signs of life stirring in the bushes and the greenery would soon be on its way to the city of Sacrosanct. Winter had been obnoxiously long this year.

Finding himself a bench under the bare branches of a tree, he plops himself down gracefully, his arms slinging over the back as he tilts his head back to gaze at the faint stars above. Perhaps he wouldn't mingle in the city for long, perhaps he would find himself back in the far corners of the world where no one could find him. Yet, he had business to do. So, the faerie sits here, head tilted to the stars for a time, until that sun so peeked over the mountains and he sat there until that sleepy city began to awake.

Rubbing at his eyes, he stands, that weak sunlight filtering through the trees around him as he stretches that stiffness from his limbs. It was time for him to attend to his business within the city. Replacing his hands in his pockets, he casually strolls through the park, exiting and emerges himself within the busy sidewalks of Sacrosanct. Upon arrival, he had learned there had indeed been a small faerie court within these limits, but somewhere along the way, the queen had abandoned her court. It was in Andras's best interests to find the scattered remains of her court and offer them a new home, a new world. Troy Marks. He was first on his list, though he had managed to run into Dorian Aragona and had already offered him a position within his home, he needed to grow them.

So, the male follows directions on where he would find the man, entering a local bar, Andras's hazel scan the room, noting the few patrons who were indeed drinking within the establishment. His eyes linger on a form sitting at a table in the corner, alone, and the faerie hesitates only for a moment as he takes in the form, quickly running through his memory on what he did know of the man. The description seemed to fit as he strolls towards the isolated table and slips in across from him, plastering a half simper across his features, "Troy Marks?"

Andras Steinhello darling