"Where am I?
I can hear the distant sounds of people-- shops, children, chatter, all that. I don't remember it being quite so close.
And I hurt--everything hurts; my skin, my bones, everything. The excess iron and salt is going to take weeks, even months, to clear through me, and every day until then is going to be agonizing.
But I can wait. I can hide, I can wait, I can force
myself to conjure something if I have to, and by the Queen of Avalon's pointy slippers, I'm going to make it back there into the Faerie, and spit in Oberon's face for casting me out.
I am Tynan of the Unseelie-- and they will not
be rid of me like this!
Actually, I'm Cheshire-Shadow from deviantart and I was invited here by a friend; both of us decided to model our accounts after two faerie characters, Tynan and Niamh. Niamh is a Seelie and Tynan is an Unseelie, and by a horrible turn of events that involved a ship full of explosives and a very messy exile, they've been dropped into our world.
Or, as the case may be, Gaia. Any work involving them will most likely be found on our DA accounts (she's mare-of-night if you're wondering).
Bound in Iron
My story: Forced to walk upon the soil of Gaia in exile, disgraced before the Unseelie courts, banished and bound. I will take vengeance one day, I will break through the gates of Avalon itself-- but until then, I walk amongst menfolk. Mab's tits.