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hag-rambling-on · 4 years ago

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Fairy Transformations

Yes, they can go back to a previous form. Except Charmix, read it.

WARNING LONG POST

Winx - Yes

The most difficult of transformations, even if you only need to do it ONE time. And then the other times, to transform you again are optional. Love yourself. The wings are of medium-small size AND the only ones purely solid, like extra appendages. They move like the wings of a hummingbird.

Charmix - Yes/Redesign. Actually there are many types of Charmix.

Charmix is what you call the temporary boost or power up, the antechamber you can summon while chasing a transformation, while fighting/training/searching for said form. It usually invokes the wings and superimposes some other characteristic detail of said transformation with your current form.

Obviously It's temporary and once you get the transformation you're looking for, you never get THAT Charmix again. Like If you was searching for the Believix, you lost your Charmix/Believix but still can get the Charmix/Enchantix, or if you were in Enchantix your Enchantix-Charmix/Believix.

I already said in another post, fairies spend a year shaping their basic fairy look - sometimes with hilarious results - until it stabilizes. The charmix is a similar process... but easier, more directed, more focused since unlike the basic form, you have a good foundation and an clear objective where the Winx was a doubtful jump where you did not see the end.

Enchantix - Yes

Sacrifice - but not - for others. Love others, apreciate others lifes. But not from a point your conscience perceive ir as selfish. Big but not solid wings, although fairies can perceive them as both an appendage and an extra sense. Most wings feel like this.

Believix - Yes

To be loved, believed by others. Very big wings too. Like basic ones, also like hummingbirds. It is highly influenced by the people around you, but it also allows you to influence them. Not many people use it. But it has a lot of potential.

Gifts of Destiny: Sophix/Lovix are reinvented, as they do not exist as this transformation per se. These are environmental transformations and some winx manage to win these in Believix.

Harmonix - Yes

It’s have a witch equivalent form.

A better form than enchantix, which works to face easyly any Realms Transformations (Life, Death, Space/Time, Dreams, Magic). So to get like all the new forms under here, you theoretically want to have the Harmonix first. Unless an Ethereal gives you a quick pass (which is what happens to the Winx with the Forestix and the Polarix). Kinda, love the world, the universe where you lives.

This is because the Harmonix gives you an overall boost in all magical abilities and allows you to move through all environments to some degree.

... I'd better redesign the costumes a bit because suddenly this is the most important transformation.

Ok, pre-series??? the easiest, trickiest of the roads to getting the Harmonix, was to go to Domino and have the "ok, just go away I’m working, gesh, I can believe I must donate 1h of my time every day to this” of someone from the royal family. Since they are "blessed" by an Ethereal on our planet of existence.

The other way is to go to a crossing of ley lines and open your magic core to natural magic, manifesting your resolution. The world is semi conscious, it does not care if you are good or bad, it look at your determination and if you do not let yourself be carried away by the waves, because as the weather changes, on the ley lines, the magic changes too, it can be overwhelming.

“Elemental” -More like Envionmental ones, Life Realm

My equivalent to: Sirenix, Sophix, Lovix, Greenix etctera.

Do not had exacty witch equivalents but their harmonix get the alltogether called Milieu Talismans.

You don't need the Harmonix for them, but it makes it easier.

To get these forms you are supposed to do a search for a special object at each transformation. If you have been able to tune into natural magic, it is a matter of doing it again and it will give you a vision. With time limit. You have to interpret the vision and complete the mision. Of course, if you love where you are, the mission is feels easy because you know how to move.

These are "blessed" by the Great Dragon, since they are transformations that affect the Plane of Life, so Bloom gets a +1 in all and usually seems the strongest one, minus in the Desertix, here +3.

Polarix: Won by the Winx during their Believix period. The perfect transformation for ice or snow users, for those living in the taiga, tundra, polar deserts or even the arctic. It has the peculiarity of covering the whole body, either with tights and long sleeves and translucent materials or clothes that really look warm. Fluffy it’s best, but also geometric details. Equivalent to the Lovix one.

Forestix: Won by the Winx during their Believix period. With details of flowers, branches, leaves, moss, mushrooms. Anything of a vegetable or fungus environment. It gives Flora more strength (+2) and she keeps its as her default form if there is any problem with their current one. Equivalent to the Sophix one.

Desertix: Deserts, savannas. Increases heat tolerance and and temperature changes in general, favors fire, fire related and crystal attacks. It would favor Bloom, if she got it. The wings give a rough impression, like swirling sand or fire.

Cavernix: Suitable for life in the deep Earth. Helps with pressure, darkness, temperature changes, lack of oxygen. Their outfits and wings show rigid lines and some kind of gem depending on the person. It would favor Diaspro if I had it. In fact, it also would favors Musa, because it boosts her ultrasounds.

Mountainix: A tactical agreement between heaven and earth. Altitude, lower oxygen, low temperatures. It is a form quite sought after by people who want a general boost in their magic since it takes up a bit of everything. This would be the best for Tecna as is a liminal transformation, as her magic is -liminal I mean- which tapes natural and artificial magics-

Skyix: If you want to live uniquely and exclusively in heaven, this is your transformation. If your magic revolves around the weather or winds, this is your transformation. Sometimes people get it accidentally while looking for the Mountainix. The ears disappear and the eyes change to adapt to strong winds and harsh weather. Featherlike wings.

Mermaidix: A form adapted to life in the oceans and the depths, includes beaches, mangroves, etc. It can tolerate unsalted water, but not too well (marshes). It gives Aisha more strength. Wear details of the sea such as algae, corals, shells, starfish, sea dollars, etc and the wings become a little they act more like a dorsal fin, also, mermaid/octopi/jellyfish tails. Equivalent to the Sirenix.

Naiadix: The transformation akin of people of fresh waters like fountains, wells, springs, streams and brooks. Includes swamps and bogs. It can tolerate salty water, but not too well (marshes). Use very delicate fabrics, reeds, wild rice, water lilies and some other ornamental flowers. It maintains the legs but swimming membranes appear on the hands, feet and ears, the wings shrink to be more dynamic. It’s cries “wet”. Also favors Aisha.

Cosmix: This form doesn't actually fall under the Great Dragon, but the Ethereal that dominates it can't be bothered to cares. To get it you have to befriend a Lumen. Who are creatures that live in their stars (not planets). It allows you to move through space. Favors Stella.

MORIX AND SOMNIX, Death and Dreams Realms - mine and retouched dreamix/onyrix

They had witch equivalents.

Morix - The transformation blessed by the Phoenix. You must have Harmonix. A very misunderstood transformation, it allows you to communicate with the world of the dead, rest agitated spirits and the people they left here, not just summon zombies -which look like shadows. And you are sooo much harder to kill. It also increases your healing abilities, humans and nature related. [Not all Good is purely Good. And not all Evil is purely Evil.] Ripped, gnawed clothes. Their wings barely move. Darkar is a Morix Fae in this rewinxing. Witches from almost dying a couple of times can access this form. That's bad and sad and traumatic. And it doesn't work for fairies. It is a complicated transformation for the fairies if you have not received it as a gift. Accepting and welcoming death as part of life, especially for such long lives, is difficult.

Dreamix - CANCELLED, Harmonix acting as this au charmix. Time limit.

Somnix- You must have Harmonix. SO, kinda transformation blessed by another Ethereal but this one usually kinda say hi to people more frecuently (in their dreams -no joking). Then you have to immerse yourself in a magical induced dream, come out of your own dream and find the Door to the Ethereal Palace and get an ok. Or unconsciously wander outside of your own dreams long enough to collect energy from the Dream Plane. On the Plane of Dreams which watch out, it's a realm of dreams and nightmares. Good thing fairies attrack good dreams... normally. It’s the Onyrix one.

Bloomix - As much as it is one of my favorite designs when it comes to outfits... Cancelled.

It’s simply tuning in to a ley line and recharging in this au, although it is crazy, like having a broken leg, fixing it, getting high and going for a run, it is better to give some time or meditate, just meditate... unless you do it as a group in a wild magic crossroad and don’t die in the attempt I guess. Then Wild Renmants.

Faunix - Yes

Love and be loved by an animal. If Roxy were a fairy in rewinxing (here is a witch), she would have gotten this form by default.

Tynix - Cancelled

Along with MiniWorlds There are many planets, there are nature reserves. And if there wasn't, from enchantix you can miniaturize yourself.

Mythix -... YES

Ugg... I REALLY DON’T LIKE THIS FORM AT ALL. redesign redesign, REDESIGN.... *note to seft, armor, give the armor I delete in Bloomix*

Can be use by a witch, or even a specialist, Mike or Vanessa, same name.

You must prove themselves before any of the Seven Ancestral Rods. All identical in form and color, except when used. They contain the fragments of conscience and magic of their former users. And they demand fragments of yours to be used, so that each next user who comes is more worthy of their power and gets even stronger. Commit.

So it's someone else's clothes with little, very little influences from you. It includes armor -because I want- Because the Ancient Ones were prepared to die.

NYMPHIX - my version

Has a witch equivalent.

Only achieved by those who have achieved ... all of the different Realms. Daphne has it.. because, she's Dahne. And she is older than she looks.

A long robe-tunic-flowy cloth, any style, just a single accessory, bare feet.

You also have to pass a test somewhere in Magix or Hike's asteroid belt remains, but not even nymphs / lampads can share that information even if they want!.

PHILAUTHIX - NEW

This is a hypothesized form only. Or seen in precognitive visions "what if?" 1/-

Its looks like an ageless version of the winx form. With bigger wings, intricate details only appreciable up close, intangible.

Winx form is achieved by feeling proud or with yourself for a moment, and that memory is the activator of the subsequent transformations.

Philauntix It is achieved by loving yourself (2.0), the good and the bad, what you did, are doing and what you will do. Not forgiving it, loving it. And not for a second, it has to be something frequent enough that energy has been stored for a while to activate this transformation.

ENKIX - NEW

Believed it was only obtained by those who have obtained in Nymphix... until the Winx obtained it. Be loved... by a Ethernal.

The last transformation for the last Realm. Magic. Magic at its Purest Form.

There may be more transformations based on things that people love. Music, travel. Or in different acts of love. Kill for love, surrender, give up something IMPORTANT for love. But I'm not going to start designing more.

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daikini-in-the-twilyhtmist · 3 years ago

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Oracle of the White Rabbit

I was recently quite excited to learn about the newest Matrix movie, which was kind of weird for me, as I haven't been much into tv & movies for quite a while now. To my surprise, it was the soundtrack to the preview that immediately captured my attention - almost more then the preview itself... and then it got stuck in my head - for DAYS, on repeat.

**Cue the Morpheus voiceover: "What you know you can't explain, but you feel it.... You don't know WHAT it is, but it's there - like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."** Yeah, that song was dead set on getting my attention.

When I finally got rid of it, I started realizing a few days later that I understood it beyond the surface meaning; and basically, I decoded the story that it was telling - it turns out to be all about right NOW. Is it prophetic? Subconscious social engineering? Quantum entanglement between the life and the art, so that they mirror and reflect each other? Who knows...

It appears to me to be a sort of trigger, or a reminder of what to do when the time comes, of what you NEED to do - and yes, I realize that this sounds very MK ultra secret agent-y; but it is what it is. I assumed it was probably just a message for me, but then I had 2 separate YouTuber's basically confirm the message in their own unique way, and then supplied additional info that is... quite compelling and pertinent to keep in mind, and utilize. So I'll link those two vids below the song decoding portion, but please watch them as they have some VERY helpful info in them - especially the 2nd half of Naughty Beav's vid, the Alba Weinman part. Anyways, here's the song with lyrics, and the decode I got for it:

https://youtu.be/YE3ZXm92CJ0

Preface: The story overall is describing the multidimensional aspects of the human being, and how certain "controllers" have manipulated the general population into thinking that we are only ONE SINGLE aspect (i.e. this linear 3D realm template of a human) of our various extended selves - and have waged war (and still are) to maintain that control over us to keep their positions power.

Song: White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane

ONE PILL MAKES YOU LARGER AND ONE PILL MAKES YOU SMALL These “pills” are alternate dimensional perspectives - the actual embodiment of them from a larger and smaller POV - Annunaki are generally around 10-16 feet tall, and the Fae are considered to be tiny little elemental beings; BOTH sizes make you visit WONDERLAND though! You can SEE & FEEL that there is MORE beyond just this vessel and life viewpoint, more to YOU that goes on to other places where this particular body-ego cannot. AND THE ONES (pills) THAT MOTHER GIVES YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING AT ALL The world perspectives and programs installed in our parents are for a different agenda, time and place - they've since expired and are therefore useless to us... those POV's just don't do anything, except stagnate you. GO ASK ALICE (<your inner child, direct connection to Source Creator) WHEN SHE'S 10 FEET TALL (<in her Annunaki 5th dimensional or above form) Oh yeah, I'd LOVE to see you try and argue those belief systems with THAT version of her/YOU, that'll be fun! Good luck with that, BwahahaaHaahaaa!!!

AND IF YOU GO CHASING RABBITS This "You" ISN'T YOU - it's a hypothetical scenario. As in: If YOU were part of a group of dark, nefarious beings, who CAN'T timeline jump to higher realms on their own, but wanted to... wouldn't YOU chase those 'rabbits', to sneak in after them, (or somehow piggyback on them) to go thru the (portals) tunnels that they naturally create? Well... wouldn't you?!!! AND YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO FALL These beings know their time is limited; as the energetic frequencies of the earth raises - LITERALLY - we have to ELEVATE with Earth (or die, as it’s not compatible); but they can only FALL since they cannot follow us - their heavier energies & choices aligned with that vibe basically anchor them down. When the Earth sheds those lower energies, they appear to “fall’ - Earth rides a sine wave up and down in a continuous cycle; right now the rollercoaster is ascending. TELL 'EM A HOOKAH SMOKING CATERPILLER HAS GIVEN YOU THE CALL Say it with me: COVER STORY!!! So just tell them that you've contacted extraterrestrials, or "Ashtar Command" in a higher dimension, who relays "guidance" to you while you're in a channeling state of mind... exchange your religious/guru worship programming (it’s SO last year) for an unvetted channeled source to worship and obey blindly instead. Pick your poison, ‘cuz dying is fun (whether that be literal, spiritual or otherwise).FYI: I am anti-establishment regarding religions; your connection to Source Creator is meant to be direct & personal, always growing - those outside things are GUIDEPOSTS for consideration and participation when you deem it useful. Not necessary, though, and CERTAINLY not mandatory... they can be helpful though, nevertheless. CALL ALICE WHEN SHE WAS JUST SMALL No doubt they WOULD try to contact you while you were young and vulnerable (and they might have already) - train a child up in the way they should go, and all that. It applies whether it be physically done or in the astral/dream state - it's also prime alien abduction time, in both cases, too: it happens most often around the 3-10 years old timeframe, generally. **Alternatively, this could mean that YOU need to recall your inner child/younger self, when you were more pure - and RECONNECT to (the true you, prior to life’s enforced programming) yourself from there, as a means of counteracting and recognizing any false “messages of light”.**

WHEN THE MEN ON THE CHESSBOARD This is the Masonic, Illuminati and other controller group factions (alphabet agencies included) - The chessboard is primarily associated with the Masonic lodges, though, like the ladder - it's their way of bypassing the middle path (opening the 3rd eye, spiritually evolving through kundalini awakening and such), but still attempting to climb up to 'higher planes'... through magickal rituals and workings of one sort or another, I think. The Sun and Moon pillars are on either side, the battle of fire and Ice. THEY are the ones that "play the game" with humanity, as it were, and “set the stage” on the gameboard in many ways.

It’s like this in their art and iconography...

But it’s like THIS in the physical body structure, see:

Side Note: I learned this and wrote it down/drew it up by watching and following Lavette's channel on YouTube - her channel is under this (her real) name, so if you want to understand & decode the esoteric symbology and all that, check her out, she has a wealth of knowledge to share... it's great stuff!!!

Anyways, moving on with the decode...

>> when the men on the chessboard << GET UP AND TELL YOU WHERE TO GO Or where you CAN'T go, or things you can’t go DO - lockdowns, anyone? AND YOU'VE JUST EATEN SOME KIND OF MUSHROOM Or taken some kind of drug, to check out (with alcohol, pharmaceuticals) as a means of coping; or perhaps just a medically coerced and/or forced untested injectable... that shall remain unnamed. (a la Voldemorte) AND YOUR MIND IS MOVING LOW Because your consciousness and/or interdimensional capacities are capped, having been anchored down into lower frequencies due to your choices. ASK ALICE I THINK SHE'LL KNOW Ask your inner child/spiritual connection WHAT TO DO

WHEN LOGIC AND PROPORTION HAVE FALLEN SLOPPY DEAD That's RIGHT NOW, with the media, the actions of the government, corporations & the alphabet agencies - everything from them is WAY out of proportion, (they're self contradicting) and illogical... it's “fallen sloppy dead” is about as literal of a description as you can get. AND THE WHITE KNIGHT IS TALKING BACKWARDS Is this Biden? Maybe Trump? Could be whomever you deem to be our hero, or fixate on as a knight "in shining armor" charging to our rescue, I suppose. AND THE RED QUEEN'S "OFF WITH HER (THEIR) HEAD!!!" The red queen is the sentient A.I. computer located under the airport in Colorado from what I understand... so this could be indicating the weather warfare or DEW, the internet consciousness battlefront, or a whole host of other things that could be directed by that (besides the jabs), which seeks to kill off a great swath of humanity. The Red Queen could also be a means to direct the jib-jabbed peoples like zombies when they're "turned on" like antennas, once the graphene in the injectables does its work. It would certainly explain all the “zombie apocalypse” protocols and policies that have been made by certain corporations and agencies - all of which was done in a serious manner... so here’s that.

So, now THIS is where it gets interesting (for me, anyways).

Every. Single. Time. That I hear this next verse, I hear it spoken a DIFFERENT way, like a glitch that simultaneously layers a different version on top of the other one, so that they are both communicated at once. This is the 'secret key', the ANSWER - remember, this part of the song says: When this & that happens, and when this person and that ‘person’ are acting THIS WAY - THEN:

REMEMBER WHAT THE DORMOUSE SAYS Dormouse - a tiny squirrel-like mouse, that is rather famous for being able to HIBERNATE for EXTENDED PERIODS OF TIME - sometimes 6 months of the year, or more, if the temperatures stay cold enough. The lower the frequency, the cooler the temperature, usually. (The Sleeper MUST Awaken! ~ Dune) << This word - Dormouse - transforms into DHARMA. So the verse: "Remember what the Dormouse said" turns into "Remember what the DHARMA SAYS". For more on dharma, see here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dharma

The dormouse speaks of the head - waking up and remembering mentally; but when it morphs into dharma, it speaks of the heart waking up; and returning to it’s inherent wisdom, returning to the spirit-soul self. So that is the key message that keeps coming thru on this:

Remember what the dormouse/dharma Says: FEED YOUR HEAD-HEART CONNECTION (and stack your dharma)!!! Spiritual GAINS, baby!

The final verse is repeated twice; I believe this indicates that the areas to apply it to are your outward actions here in the outer world, and your inner realm locals: your thoughts and feelings. FEED the CONNECTION on each level, to be and do good, and to stand up in integrity and defend that sacred space on EACH LEVEL whenever it's needed. The mind-heart connection and coherence part is actually mentioned specifically in The Naughty Beaver video linked below, too... but there will undoubtedly be internal emotional and mental attacks that only you can recognize and shield against, or fight back against to maintain your inner calm and wholeness of spirit. The stronger the mind-heart coherence is, though, the higher you vibe naturally; so it grants you a certain level of protection automatically - I feel that's why they push the jab-berwocky so hard through social/economic pressure, and emotional guilt and gaslighting; to block that potential before you ever reach it, so you can still be "hacked", or locked down, energetically.

Feed your head = higher mind = higher perspective. Maintain THAT, then ACT FROM THERE. (Faith without works is dead, yo) See the other two vids below, and thank you for reading thus far. You/We’ve got this - Be Excellent to (yourself and) Each Other... and Party On!

The “Naughty Beaver” confirmation, perspective & guidance on this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHeDnhc8Jfg

The “YellowRoseforTexas” standpoint and confirmation:

https://youtu.be/tmYdSFj3WYE

As a final thought... look how unbelievably FREAKING CUTE dormice are IRL! ! ! ! KAWAII ! ! !

#matrix ressurections #naughty beaver #yellowrosefortexas #white rabbit #spiritual gains #highermind #jefferson airplane #dormouse

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gravityfissure · 4 years ago

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All Good Things End : Deirdre & Otto

Summary: Deirdre summons her mushroom husband for his final sacrifice. TW: Blood, Injury, Mushroom Manipulation PARTIES: @deathduty & Otto

"We're all gathered here today to witness a truly beautiful event: the death of Otto." Deirdre, host, waved her ceremonial toaster around. The rest of the fae in attendance, mostly pixies and leprechauns, lifted—or attempted to lift—their own toasters. She'd forgotten what the toasters were supposed to represent exactly, other than their triumph and humanity's inferiority, but most things usually represented that. She turned to her husband, and smirked at him. She recalled their dalliance in the cemetery, their wedding in the woods and the escapades that followed. She was almost sad to be rid of him now. He was, perhaps, the funnest human she'd ever ensnared. Out of fondness, or nostalgia, or something else entirely, she gestured to him and her gaze softened. "Do you have anything you'd like to say, Otto? You're allowed some words before you die." The pixies gasped in unison; it was customary to get the humans to be as silent as possible, during these things—their voices were largely annoying. Deirdre shook her head and quickly explained to them, "Otto is my guest, and my human. He represents me, too. I want him to speak." And so she allowed it.

How the hell had this become his life? It was a thought that crossed his mind rather often and one that crossed his mind right now as he made his way up to the spot that Deirdre had ordered him to come along to. She’d instructed him to clean up, wear a nice nose piercing (for he’d gotten a selection from the store with his punishment) explaining the black steel ring that pierced his right nostril and not tell anyone about what he was doing. Things had not been good of late. Whatever the hell had happened at the bar, the fact he’d been forced to live as nothing more than a mundane human. Wash the dishes. Brush his hair. Empty the trash. No snap of his fingers and things took care of themselves. Worry had kept him up for several nights, waiting for any hint of it to come back. It had to come back didn’t it? Hells there was no way this could be his life. No way he could live without the essence of his very being. The toll was clear, even with the effort he’d taken to make himself look presentable.

Admittedly a loophole he’d found in that instruction was that he hadn’t been told not to tell anyone where he was going, explaining the google-maps pin he’d dropped Mercy, Jane and Cece for good measure. If someone did need to do corpse collection… Well, at least they had a start on where to find him he supposed. The phone had been tucked away and forgotten as the new ceremony began. Different this time and Otto truly wasn’t sure what to expect he couldn’t see any knives that Deirdre had claimed to be fond of in the past so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. The myriad of thoughts running through his mind was distracting, and when he was finally invited to speak and say someone Otto was at a loss for words; a rare occurrence on any normal day. “I guess-- Actually yeah, are there drinks? I’m way too sober for this shit,” maybe he could stall for a bit, though a drink also didn’t sound like a bad idea either right now. “Honestly, I’d kill for a cocktail before I kick the bucket… It’s a personal nightmare to go out stone cold sober ‘cause that’s absolutely not what my life’s about.”

“Drinks?” Deirdre glanced around, regarding the fae in attendance. “Did we bring drinks?” The fae murmured to each other, pixies fluttered about until a leprechaun hobbled forward, offering solem clicks and whistles of disappointment. She turned to Otto. “No drinks.” Which was suddenly very unfortunate, because she was craving some too. “But I like your spirit, Otto! Is that all the last words you have to offer? Usually the humans start begging now. They tell me all about how much money they can offer, about any children or lovers. They get very desperate, I love to see it on their faces.” She turned to Otto, smiling. He seemed...okay, strangely enough. Not that Deirdre was any expert on reading human’s facial expressions, they all looked mostly the same, and were too ugly to pay attention to. But this man, fun and carefree, gave her no sobbing or begging. Suddenly, she boiled with anger. “BEG FOR YOUR LIFE!” She threw her toaster down at his feet, snarling. “GIVE US ENTERTAINMENT! You think this is a game, human? I gathered my friends here to watch something good, and your smart quips are getting us—“ a Leprechaun whistles at her. Deirdre snapped around. He swished a half-empty bottle of wine. “Never mind, I’m being informed we do have some drinks.” She took the bottle and offered it to Otto. “Here, now you can die slightly tipsy.”

“Oh come on,” he protested at the shakes of multiple little heads in every direction “I thought this was meant to be a celebration of your totalitarian toaster termination techniques on full unadulterated display… That you guys knew how to party.” The clarification that normally this was the point people started begging for their lives was met with a twist of his mouth and mildly distasteful look. “Well, I mean I can’t really do that because I don’t have any of those things. Kids suck they’re so whiny and really who has the commitment for a partner when people just end up letting you down in the end, you know?” he glanced at a wizened old leprechaun who seemed to mull on this statement and nod in agreement before taking a puff on his pipe “see? This dude, he gets it.” It’s so much effort for so little reward.” Perhaps now was not the time for philosophical questioning but it was what came to mind. - if it’s a time for confession guess there’s no better time to say thanks for the motorcycle I conned you into buying for me. Really was swell of you.” But any further smartass remarks were put on hold as he dodged the toaster lobbed in his general direction and found his knees giving out as he threw himself on the floor against his will. “No- NO PLEASE!” tears welled unbidden to his eyes as he clasped at Deirdre’s boots the sobs rising against his will “I’LL DO ANYTHING, I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! PLEASE JUST-- DON’T KILL ME! IT’S NOT A GAME! I SWEAR. PLEASE I-” he hiccuped, swallowing air “ Pleasepleaseplease.” The sobbing at her feet continued despite the profference of booze for the command to stop had not yet been given.

Deirdre frowned as Otto spoke, she reached a hand out to lay gingerly on his shoulder. “Otto...are you sad and lonely?” The fae looked at her pointedly. She flushed and withdrew both her concern and her hand, but thought to elaborate. “Having a partner is great. I love my girlfriend. I don’t believe people let you down always, sometimes they surprise you.” The leprechaun clicked his disagreement, and Deirdre waved the conversation away. “You conned me into buying you a motorcycle?” She thought about it, and expected anger or pride to come to her. Anger for the audacity of a human to think to trick her, and pride that her subordinate had tried at all. Mostly she was just...disappointed. “Why didn’t you con me out of more than just a motorcycle?” She asked, “I mean, I have the money to give you more. What’s a motorcycle worth? Like a measly few thousand dollars?” It was good then, that he started to beg, and her mood lifted. “Yes, you pathetic urchin.” She hissed and snapped her feet away from him. “I think we’re good to begin now, don’t you?” She smiled and turned to her fellow fae, careful to keep herself out of the ring again. “Stop your begging and be quiet, Otto. Now it’s time--” The pixies struggled to play their flute, leaving the air with a discordant whittling that stung Deirdre’s ears. A leprechaun banged his toaster to create a drum beat, as horrible as it was earnest. Deirdre hissed again and picked Otto off the floor and shoved him into the circle. “Go impale yourself on the tree branch there.” She pointed at the one that had been sharpened for this purpose. “Take your time though, I do like a slow death. And you may do whatever you like before you’re impaled, so long as you stay in the circle, and it doesn’t take too long.” She waved her hand in the air. “Or if I find it boring.”

Otto’s eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, well and truly laughed deeply at the notion. “Oh hells, me? Lonely? No. Lonely’s pathetic, I’m definitely not pathetic.” But then again, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder. Would anyone ever notice? Would Mercy, Cece or anyone else in his rather truncated list of acquaintances even bother to come out and look for him? “Sure did, was fun watching you bend over backwards to save your friend’s face. Can’t say it worked but it was fun to watch either way.”

But then the wet mud was soaking into his knees, immaculate nails clawing for purchase on Deirdre’s shoe that soon retracted leaving him falling facefirst into a pile of moss. As the urge to beg rescinded, he lay there for a moment gathering what little remained of his dignity and pushed himself up to his feet. Spotting the leprechaun nearby about to drain the wine he snatched the bottle out of its tiny hands and gulped it down, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Deirdre was speaking again though and the horrible irony of everything he’d been told dawned on him.

You’re not dead.

It was this thought that drifted through his mind as Otto walked with purposeful steps towards the sharpened bark. A haze of strange determination silencing all questions or thoughts that this was wrong. That he needed to run. No matter how much his mind screamed, rending itself apart.

The sharpened tip pierced the soft flesh of his abdomen, a slow progression as steps faltered and blood began to trickle in a cascade, staining the front of his shirt. A second and third followed, and as the crimson rivulets flowed their course twin tears glistened in hazel eyes. The dawning revelation of a truth Otto had always denied.

Perhaps he was lonely indeed.

Too late to do anything about it now though.

Delight spread across the fae like wildfire, infectious and brighter the longer it burned. Deirdre watched curiously. She waited for the same delight to reach her. And she waited. And she watched, and she waited. And yet, the only feeling that entered her as she watched Otto impale himself was something cold, and then sharp; something she wouldn’t dare put a name to. Emma’s eyes flashed in her mind, the look of desperation that gleamed there, and the hope that sat on her lips that Deirdre might free her. She couldn’t see Otto’s face now, and she felt all the better for it. “Stop,” she told him, “stop that. S-stop doing that.” Her command was barely a whisper above the din of celebration, fae poured into the circle, ready to party--dancing progressed around Otto’s limp body, and the music grew louder and further away from any pleasurable tune. The mushroom drums in her own head grew silent, and she left to watch the fae as an outsider to their delight. Once, she had been a child peeking from behind old trees, watching the fae with their wings and wondering when it would be her turn to be like them. The feeling she had chased for so long fluttered around her, it was cheered on by the congratulatory clicks and whistles of the leprechauns, but it could not find her heart. An organ she had long since suspected she’d lost sometime ago, some many deaths before.

She turned her back to Otto, to the mushrooms and fae surrounding him, and she walked. “I want to be good,” she told the trees as she stumbled around them. “I want to be good.” She willed the feeling to reach her. She willed herself to feel anything at all. But where she fell to the ground, staring at her unstained hands, she found nothing.

Nothing inside of her.

Eventually Otto reached a point that his feet could no longer find purchase enough to continue walking. Or perhaps it was simply the gradual weakening that came with the blood-loss. Blood-loss that left him feeling cold and tired. Tired in a way that was bone deep. There was no method to question on his lips to implore them to stop and let him go so that he might live his life. The feelings that swirled in his chest were those of anguish and an aching loneliness for which words were inadequate to describe. Loneliness he'd laughed so heartily at not five minutes prior. So maybe Deirdre was right. Perhaps he was… But too little too late.

I thought this was meant to hurt less. It always sounded like it would hurt less .

Where the voice in his mind came from he couldn’t rightly say. No warm embrace, no bright light or whatever the hell you were meant to get if this truly was the end. Just empty darkness. Even as he reached for his magic, gone since that night at the bar. Just an echo, but that’s all he was now wasn’t he? An echo of what he should’ve been. The breath rattled in his throat, life slipping away in the trickle of his lifesblood as the cold grasp of darkness coiled tighter around him; his life served forth by fate's own servant to the overture of cheerful clicks and whistles.

Perhaps someone will remember me.

#p: deirdre #all good things end #para

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thronesofshadows · 4 years ago

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Rebound || Lydia & Evelyn

TIMING: Shortly after Lydia’s wing heals PARTIES: @inspirationdivine & @thronesofshadows LOCATION: Evelyn’s home, Harris Island SUMMARY: Lydia is a good friend.

Her back was still pink tinged. If she was entirely honest with herself, it still hurt, her skin prickled under the shift of every piece of clothing, but it was all worth it. Everything grown back, everything healed. She was whole again. So Lydia was dressed in a figure hugging skirt that glittered like emeralds and sapphires, with large puffy shoulders and a drop down her back. She looked incredible, and while her security guards were waiting in the car parked outside Evelyn’s home, she also felt invincible, for a moment, as she rang the doorbell. “Hello darling, it is ever so good to see you again!”

She was quite pleased that Lydia was coming over. Not only because it had to mean that she must have been feeling better, but because she was another someone who Evelyn had found herself growing incredibly fond of in the months that the two knew one another. Besides, it gave her another excuse to dress up - in a deep red dress that accentuated her waist before flaring out in the skirt. As if on cue, she heard the doorbell ring and she breezed over, opening the door, a smile crossing her lips. “I could very much say the same about you. You look absolutely beautiful as well, if I do say so.” Moving to the side, she motioned for Lydia to follow her inside. “I am so pleased to have you over. Is there anything in particular that you would wish to do first? My sitting room is often a popular spot to be, but I have many other rooms and would be happy to show you anything you would like.”

“Thank y-” Lydia faltered, because she really ought to know better than to speak thanks so easily. “It has been lovely to have an excuse to dress up too. I haven’t been out much as of recently.” That was no secret. As she stepped into Evelyn’s home, she shed her glamour. Her ears extended up to the crown of her head, and her wings unfurled like bright sunflowers, her firefly shells yellow and brown, her fresh wing fluttering weakly. “Oh, I'd love to have a tour of your home, if that’s what you’re offering. Anyway, my dear, most importantly, how are you?”

“Not a problem.” Evelyn replied with a wave of her hand. “I certainly could never fault anyone for wishing for an excuse to dress up.” She watched Lydia transform as she entered Evelyn’s home, and she had to admit that she was more than a bit transfixed. “You are beautiful.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth and she offered Lydia a sheepish grin. “I am offering. I do not need to show you everywhere, as that might take up far too much time and it seems useless to spend time together simply showing off my home.” She gave a small shrug at the question. “Complicated. I mean - better?” She bit her lip. “Not totally better, clearly. However, better than I was before.” She began to walk down her hallway, taking a turn and pointing toward the kitchen. “That is the kitchen. It is stocked with some basics, but I do not use it very much. I have been told it is to die for. Makes some people jealous.” She looked over towards the other woman again. “I am very glad you have the time to spend with me. Truly.”

Lydia smirked at the compliment, preening. She flicked her wings playfully, affection bubbling out of her as Evelyn looked sheepishly back at her. “I dress to impress, my dear. That said, you’re rather breathtaking too.” She shook her head. “There is no such thing as time wasted when it is spent with friends. “ All the same, she followed Evelyn into her kitchen, looking around as Evelyn described how she was feeling. Or rather, didn’t describe it at all. “Not totally better, but improved. And might I ask why you needed the improvement in the first place? You can talk to me, you know. I wouldn’t divulge anything said in confidence.”

The kitchen was to die for, that much was true. Lydia looked around, but her gaze just kept drifting back to Evelyn. “It is beautiful. Although I don’t eat this kind of food either, I have always enjoyed preparing it for guests and the like. It is a beautiful kitchen.” Lydia smiled at Evelyn, and gave her arm a soft squeeze. “Always, my dear. Always.”

“Well, I suppose I ought to have not expected anything else.” Evelyn grinned. “Well, that means a lot, coming from you.” She let her lips pucker for a moment as if in thought before glancing down. “Well, it is still appreciated, and I am glad to be a friend, continuously and constantly.” At Lydia’s question, she shrugged. “Break up.” She glanced up at the other woman, eyes growing wide. “I apologize, that was blunter than I intended. I was seeing someone and we are no longer seeing one another, and apparently break ups do more for my self-esteem than I would have previously imagined. Which is why I asked if you cared about me.”

She could feel the other woman’s gaze on her and it did, for a moment, allow her to relax. “I used to watch my cooks prepare food, though I am not much of an expert. I do find that making certain things can be satisfying, particularly for those who can actually eat.” Evelyn shrugged. “Besides, I felt as though I ought to show you my place, and I am pleased you were able to feel safe enough to come by. Unfortunately, given my species, I cannot have any sort of guard animal, though I am rather effective at dealing with would-be intruders, should the occasion arise. It - it has not, though. At least not in years.” She wrapped her arms around her torso as she made her way out of the kitchen, turning in the hallway to the dining room. “Another room that I often have no use for, but it does make for a nice space to read or do work, on occasion, when I do not wish to do so in my office at the bar.” She unwrapped her arms and reached out briefly, brushing her fingertips against Lydia’s arm. “My sitting room and the rest of my house are rather a bit more exciting than these, I must say. Shall we?”

“Break up?” Lydia repeated, sympathetically. “I am ever so sorry to hear that. Was it your decision, or theirs? Break ups are difficult regardless, but if they weren’t worth continuing then they aren’t worth letting affect your self esteem. Which is easier said than done.” For a brief moment, she wondered if this was why she had been invited over, as a replacement for the break up. Lydia looked at Evelyn appraisingly and concluded she wouldn’t have an issue if that was the case. Quite the contrary. Much more likely, the mushrooms were making her more enthusiastic towards such activities than she normally was, as they did every year. “You remain worthy of love irregardless of the circumstances.”

“Oh, certainly. There’s something wonderful about feeling like you’re nurturing someone else, both body and soul. It was one of the jarring things of growing up catholic, where feeding people is so revered, when we don’t eat food as a family.” Lydia replied, reminiscing on her childhood. She was under no illusions that humans enjoyed nurturing her, but that was their lot, regardless of whether they liked it or not. “If you can treat people like you did that painting, I’m not worried in the slightest.” Lydia laughed airily, as if it didn’t bother her, but it far too airy, put on to convince herself. She leant into Evelyn’s brief touch, brightening back up into a genuine in a smile “Let’s. That said, you could show me the phone book and I would still be interested. I’m thoroughly enjoying the company.”

“Mine.” Evelyn bit her lip. “Which, well - it gives me a certain sense of power over it, but it does not mean that I feel any less sour about the fact, however childish this must make me seem, Lydia.” She looked over to the other woman kindly, readjusting her posture as she felt Lydia's eyes on her. For whatever Lydia might have wanted, Evelyn found that whenever she was in the other woman’s presence she always wanted to make the very best of impressions. Even if she already believed that Lydia thought highly of her, she wished to remain in the other woman’s good favor. “I appreciate that. I was informed that I believe nobody could love me. Which is admittedly perhaps more true than I might wish to believe.”

“I agree - I grew up in the Church of England, though I was made to be as human as possible. All credit to my father, who was human himself. Forgive me if I am repeating myself, I have found myself growing closer with more people than before, and rather alright with telling them about my past.” Evelyn glanced down at her feet. “I can indeed.” She felt herself blush at Lydia’s comments, “well, I could say much the same of you. However, I do not plan to read the phone book.” She wrapped her arm around Lydia’s and led her over to the sitting room. “I find it nice to come here and read when I am not in my bedroom, and the doors open right onto my beach.” She turned back over to Lydia, her body continuing to relax in the older woman’s presence. “It is a nice space to spend one’s time. Shall we move along? Unless you find yourself wishing to rest, which I would be more than happy to do. Whatever makes you feel at your best.”

“It doesn’t make you seem childish at all,” Lydia replied, putting her hand on the back of Evelyn’s shoulder. “Love is as fickle as a mushroom. You don’t realise how deep and far it stretches until it is gone, leaving the rest of the soil all the poorer for it.” Lydia thought back to her last love, the bright moments where her world had burned like a furnace with the heat of their passion, and the dwindling cold that eventually grew as icy as death itself. “By that point, it doesn’t really matter who said the final words. Especially when its followed with barbs like that one. Ouch. They really didn’t deserve you, my love.”

“Oh, at least I was raised as a catholic fae. Our bible looks rather different, you’d be surprised,” Lydia said with a smile, “You aren’t repeating yourself, and you don’t have to apologise for telling people about yourself, my dear. You can act like you’re the most interesting person in the room, because you usually are.” Lydia teased, following Evelyn into the sitting room. “This is beautiful, you must have the most amazing view. I’m sure you impress all your guests like this.”

“Well I am ever so grateful to hear that.” Evelyn nodded. “I should quite hate the idea of ever being childish. I am not certain I was childish even as a child, so it would be quite a bit odd to be so now, I think.” She shrugged at Lydia’s next words. “I am not certain I understand love, if I am to be honest. Perhaps that is why I was told that I believe nobody could love me. It was quite a terrible sort of barb, I think.” It still made her skin crawl, particularly given that those words still wouldn't leave her mind. “You are far too kind to me, Lydia.”

“Oh?” Evelyn looked at her companion again. “I imagine that I would be, though that sounds - well, it sounds sort of nice. I was, as previously stated, raised as human as could be. Made me bedridden, sometimes. I may have a human father but a lack of subsisting on fear does not go over well for me in the long run. Not at all, really.” She sat down. “Well, I take your words to heart and I appreciate them incredibly. I am indeed often one of the most interesting people in the room, though right now that may be ever so slightly up for debate.” She brushed her hand against Lydia’s arm. “It is a wonderful view, and it is a handy method of impressing others, but I do not always have tons of guests. I am a bit selective. I only prefer the company of those with whom I properly enjoy my time.”

“I’m so, so, sorry. No matter how valuable the connection with your human family, there is always something left to be desired. No one I know raised only by humans has found this easy.” Lydia squeezed Evelyn’s hand, thinking about Remmy, and Regan, and all the other lost souls she’d picked up over the course of the year. She really did think her words were comforting, even though they were not. But as the topic turned to easier, funner things, she followed with a smile and a flirty laugh. “Then that is something we should let lesser mortals debate. I will just stand here and enjoy your presence,” Lydia teased back. Sometimes, one had to be bold. She could handle a little rejection, and Evelyn could use the confidence boost, whichever way she replied. Lydia smiled, looked down at Evelyn’s hand on her arm. “That I can believe. Although, I imagine the view from your bedroom is nicer. If you would like to share it.”

“I would agree - and you know more people?” Evelyn’s eyes widened for a single moment. She’d met a few people who had experienced that since moving to town, but it still felt few and far between. “I - if they ever wish to meet me, I might like that.” She knew that sometimes people looked down on her for having a human parent, though she consistently reminded herself that this was through no fault of her own. She had enough people - Deirdre, Miriam - who knew where she had come from and who still accepted her for who she was. “I mean, I am never opposed to having others enjoy my presence, if I am to be quite blunt.” She used her free hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Certain views are, very much so.” She let a small, teasing smile cross her lips. “I think that we can end there, as a matter of fact. I might have some ideas that could well keep us occupied for at least a bit of time.” Evelyn stood up for a moment, letting Lydia follow suit. “Follow me.”

#wickedswriting #c lydia #chatzy #rebound #// this is old but we both had hiatuses and other things #pls enjoy soft times #i love lydia and i love immo so so very much

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inspirationdivine · 4 years ago

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Trouble in Faeradise || Lydia and Deirdre

Timing: Shortly after Lydia and Simon got unstuck

Parties: @deathduty, @inspirationdivine

Summary: Lydia and Deirdre entice a human into a fairy ring. Things happen. As Deirdre puts it, it was not a mushroom vibe.

Content Warnings: Compulsion (Fairy ring magic), emotional manipulation

Simon was darling and pleasant and very amenable, but if Lydia had had to be stuck to someone for so long, it would have rather been Deirdre. They hadn’t had enough opportunity to spend time together recently - for so many reasons, all of them understandable - but Lydia was desperate to bond more with the banshee. Especially now that Morgan had used the word love. So when she saw the banshee, Lydia gave her a hug in greeting. “Ready for some fun?”

The hug in greeting was a surprise, though one Deirdre prized. Perhaps she was right in thinking Lydia was warming up to her (it was very hard to tell when she still half-expected the other fae to turn around and yell “TRAITOR” at any moment). But there was no greater act of bonding between two fae than grabbing a human and taking them to the nearest fairy ring (Deirdre had spotted one in the woods earlier this week and her first thought about it was to tell Lydia). “As a fae, I think I was born ready for fun...and bones. Which I do consider to be fun.” She glanced around the irregularly busy street, filled with drunks stumbling from one bar to the next to cram their pathetic Friday nights with more excitement. “Speaking of, did you bring your big, white, windowless van or is this one of those tasteful kidnappings?”

“Deirdre, I swear to god, please do not bring us to some mangled corpse,” Lydia replied, but with a soft nudge and wink that belied the gentle teasing of it all. “Or at least, not this time.” She eyed them too. To the left, three girls sipped seruptitiously at a bottle of water, or at least so they claimed, before joining the queue to a local club. Their skirts curled around their asses, matching in silver sequens. To their right, a man stumbled down a dark alley, whisper yelling his need to urinate to his friends. Lydia’s lip curled a little. “Totally tasteful, my dear. I suspect all we need to do is offer one of these fellows an irresistable night with two beautiful woman and they would follow us right into a dragon’s den. No kiss needed. Although I tend to prefer them high over drunk. Oh! What about that one over there?” Lydia asked, curling her hand around Deirdre’s arm, pointing at a girl with faded blue hair who was flipping off some guy as she texted at her phone.

What were the best humans to torture? Deirdre had often pondered the question. Some could be unsatisfying, like when they prattled on about children and wives and how their sick mother in the hospital was expecting someone to leave her roses. Most fae did not listen, or care, but Deirdre---always watching---was decidedly more observant. Ther fun humans were the drunk ones, too intoxicated to understand what was happening, and more likely to play off their strange fae encounter as some kind of by product of drugs. But then there were different types of drunks, weren’t they? And some were so sad. Deirdre’s eyes surveyed the crowd just as Lydia’s did. “But I love a good mangled corpse,” she pouted, scoping out a target. The men would be easy, and if they were good--which they were--they could snag a few of them for their purposes. Then her eyes fell to the girl. “She looks...angry.” Like she might realize in the middle of getting a mushroom shaved into her hair that she had a lot to live for and needed to follow her passion in creative writing instead of staying in the nursing program she hated. Which was...an outcome of undecided amounts of fun. This was easier in the past, when she cared less about what the lives of these humans looked like. Which was increasingly hard to ignore as she continued to human-watch. “I--you know what? Let’s go with the girl. She looks like she’s having a terrible night and isn’t it our duty to show her some fun?” Of course, fun for them, mushroom mind-control for her.

“I know you do, but I don’t subject you to the local amatuer open mic nights, do I?”She does look angry. I like a challenge,” Lydia replied. Not that kind of challenge in her long term hunts, which were also in progress as they spoke, but for dancing around naked in the moonlight? Completely so. She waited for Deirdre’s indecision, her eyes flicking around to other options lazily - a man adjusting his crop top as he waited for a date, a woman staring back at them with glowing green eyes. The latter, Lydia thought, was definitely not human, and looked a wholly different kind of fun, but not for tonight. “It is definitely our duty,” Lydia replied with a smile. Arm hooked through Deirdre’s arm, they walked over to the woman side by side over to the woman with the white hair. “I hope those men aren’t giving you a hard time?” Lydia asked, voice as smooth as syrup.

“You could--” Deirdre leaned in with a smirk, “maybe I’d like some entertainment with my wine next time.” Not that Lydia wasn’t entertaining alone, but as on a serious note, as friends, she assumed they’d share at least a little in each other’s interests. And so, just like that, they approached the girl. And she, shocked to see two irrefutably attractive women, turned to them abruptly and with wide-eyes. She stopped texting, but her screen remained illuminating her face against the bars and clubs’ neon signs.

“Yeah…” Emma said hesitantly, as if agreeing with them was a defeat on its own, “look, I don’t wanna be like, a part of your threesome or whatever, okay?” But the stutter around the words meant that, just for the brief second she used to take in their appearance, she had thought about it. She was sharp, and adjusted herself and her body to angle away from them, arms crossed over her chest. “What do you want?”

“We just wanted to help you,” Deirdre started softly, “we know how it can be, alone at night. We just wanted to make sure you were safe.” A pang of guilt rang through her. How safe would she be once they’d lead her into a fairy ring? The girl eyed them suspiciously, she offered no thanks or apologies for her harsh tone. Her body remained closed-off.

Lydia matched Deirdre’s smirk with a more genuine smile. “Alright. Next time we’ll listen to some talentless hacks perform in the hope of finding some diamond in the rough, and then we’ll go on a walk to find something dead and pretty.” She had been teasing, but now she wasn’t. Not that it mattered for tonight, as they walked over to their evening��s entertainment. A threesome with a human? Lydia had her cringe well, and let Deirdre do the talking, soft and lily sweet. She could imagine it, Lydia thought. Being a human and looking at Deirdre and being entranced. Not aware that your death might be around the corner. But the girl was not impressed, her eyes distrustful. Perhaps she had grown up here, watching her friends disappear and die over time. Perhaps she had heard of magical threats and knew the risks. Perhaps she was merely sensible.

“Do you at least have friends coming to meet you?” Lydia asked softly, after a moments beat.

A deep, long suffering sigh. “No. They bailed, so I guess I’m headed home.”

“It sounds like you don’t want to do that.” Lydia replied, running her finger over her lips idly. “You know, we’re headed to an exclusive party. No creeps invited, very tightly vetted. If you don’t want to head into a club like that by yourself.” Lydia gestured to a queue for one of the clubs nearby. The girl pursed her lips, but she was looking at them more intently now, as if weighing it up. Tempted, even with her arms closed.

“I’m not doing an orgy either, for the record.” The girl replied.

Was it softness that made her too weak? Did caring about humans force her into the kind of awareness that made it hard to abduct people? Hearing Lydia talk about an ‘exclusive party’ was ingenious, the kind of plan Deirdre should have been thinking about, but couldn’t. Instead she noticed how lost the girl seemed, how she’d perked up at the idea of something exclusive, as if she were special enough to be included, as if she mattered enough. A place where friends wouldn’t leave her. She wondered what her life must have been like to stir these feelings, if she’d ever had a true friend or if they’d just caught her on an off-night. Her deliberations did not show on her face, Deirdre’s soft smile didn’t falter. She was thinking too much about this. This was fae mischief; harmless. It was what fae did. “It’s not an orgy,” Deirdre laughed easily, as if it was some amusing thought. “I mean it could be if---I’m joking! I’m joking.” Deirdre took the moment to recover from her joke to assess the girl. What kind of an exclusive party would they paint this as? Upscale? Intimate? What did she seem more interested in? She watched the girls eyes dart around, observing where she lingered. The groups seemed to catch her eyes. Maybe she didn’t really like clubs, she just went because her friends did, what she really wanted was---”it’s just a small thing, really. Just some friends sitting around a fire, smoking, drinking, talking. It’s just---it’s hard to get to know people when the clubs and bars are so loud, right? And it always seems like everyone just wants something out of you and it’s---I don’t like it. So, an exclusive gathering. You don’t have to waste your night.” The girl’s arms slowly uncrossed. Bingo. She never would have noticed her loneliness if she didn’t have an empathetic eye---she might have stuck with clubbing angle, pitched it as something upscale (the humans did love the idea of fancy). She felt terrible for a moment, and then the girl spoke, and she felt worse. “How do I know I can trust you guys? And, like, if it’s your friends I don’t want to--” she caught her insecurity in her throat, swallowing it down and standing up a little straighter to cover it, “like, you know. It’s whatever, but how do I know this isn’t some weird like sex party thing? ‘Cause I told you, I’m not interested. How can I trust you?”

Lydia’s gaze didn’t flicker as Deirdre continued describing it, although she was caught off guard. It was a risky proposition, after all. The idea of being outsiders at an insider event was off putting to most people. Something high end with an open bar was usually the safest bet. It was interesting too, to hear Deirdre describe what they were doing, how she crafted her half truths to suit this girl’s need. Yet here, the girl opened up, melting like butter into Deirdre’s words. Lydia gave Deirdre the slightest squeeze. “I promise, we’re not inviting you to take part in a sex party. I take my word very seriously.”

The girl eyed her suspiciously, because of course it wasn’t enough. Instead, Lydia took a slightly different approach, leaning into one of this identity’s greatest uses. “My name’s Lydia Griffin. You can google me. I am the author of the Eyes to the Sky series. You can find a frankly terrifying amount of information about me in the blink of the eye. What’s your name?”

“You wrote that?” The girl replied, her eyes widening. “I started reading the first one a few weeks ago.” She realised, quickly, that she looked a little too eager, and tried to shutter her excitement as she did just what Lydia asked - googling her to find Lydia’s authorial portrait. “Holy shit. I’m Emma. Not, that, uh. I don’t know if I fit in with that kind of crowd.”

“That’s alright,” Lydia said, “It’s not that kind of party. Everyone is very welcoming and lovely. We’re always looking for new friends.” Emma’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t quite believe it, trying to play it cool. She looked to Deirdre, as if for a final reassurance.

Deirdre tried her best to hide her shock at hearing Lydia reveal her identity. Now they really had to ensure to bind her into keeping their identities a secret or...did Lydia plan on killing her after? It wouldn’t be unheard of, and at the whim of the mushrooms, who knew which part of them would emerge dominant. But as she watched the girl’s eyes grow wide, a smile finally threatening to pull at her lips, she could see why. And now they had a name. Great. Now she’d know exactly who she was making hold her mushrooms, probably. And then Emma turned to her. Deirdre hid her hesitation well, but her voice dropped into a newfound gentleness. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Deirdre, no fancy job or anything. I actually just met Lydia about a week ago,” she smiled at the other fae warmly to sell her point, “and most of her friends too. Some people there are strangers to me too, but they’ve been so kind and welcoming to me, especially being new in town.” She gestured to her throat, pointing out her accent. “Am I right in guessing you’re interested in literature?” Emma nodded slowly, nearly ashamed to admit it. “Well then, you just have to come. Lydia would love someone whose brain she could pick, right?” She smiled, “and there’ll be a lot of people there with similar interests. I wouldn’t really know, but there’s---uh, other authors, right?” She kept turning to Lydia, as if she needed clarification, reeling Emma in with her feigned hesitation. If one of them was less sure, it made the reluctant Emma more comfortable knowing her fears were shared. And unsurprisingly, she shrugged, biting her cheek to stop a smile. “Okay,” she said finally, “I’ll come.”

Lydia suppressed the way she bristled at Deirdre’s lie, but the other fae might have just felt the shift of her wings. Not her problem, especially as she watched Deirdre sink the final hooks into Emma, one word at a time. It was almost word perfect too, creating the most perfectly relatable personality. Making herself seem human, even though Lydia knew Deirdre was anything but. She nodded along to Deirdre’s speech, and that in itself twisted Lydia’s belly a little. The moment Emma nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears, Lydia smiled, the ache dissipating. I’ll come, she said, and Lydia turned it into a promise, a thread to pull their prey along by. “Great,” Lydia said, warm and inviting in tone. “It isn’t far. Walk with us?” She invited Emma, who after another moment rocked off the wall and began to walk with them. Although Deirdre had pitched it as Lydia’s party and Lydia’s crowd, it was Deirdre who had found the fairy ring - Lydia had no idea where it was. Deirdre had to lead them there.

Emma seemed excited, all hidden the best she could under a stubborn wall. And in the same way, Deirdre felt guilty for what would come, hidden under walls she covered better. She hadn’t expected to feel this poorly about some mischief, but there she was, nearly shaking with reluctance. Was it stronger to swallow this feeling? Or to admit it, end the night, apologize to Lydia and move on? To quell the feeling, she reached out and looped her arm around Emma’s, though the hooks had been set and the promise made, she maintained the act of reeling the woman in--in some way, as an apology for what would come. With her feigned excitement, she led the way for the three of them, out of the well-lit bars, into dimmer streets, then where the forest began. All the while, she made sure to ask Emma questions about herself---superficial at best, lest she dare feel even worse than she already did---and boast about their upcoming party. “It’s just over here, I think?” She led them into the clearing, giddy from the nearby mushrooms, “oh shoot! Did I get us lost again?” She laughed, unable to help herself. The mushrooms were right there. And some part of her, that still maintained any bit of sense, thought it might be good to pretend like they were lost instead of the party not existing. “I swear it was by the mushroom-shaped tree around the mushroom bush into the mushroom?” Deirdre quivered with excitement. Emma looked between the two of them, smiling still from their previous conversation. “Oh, that’s cool, I can just look it up how to get back on my phone and---” As Emma tried to explain, Deirdre reached out and swatted the phone down to the ground, screeching. “Mushro--I mean, spider! Oh, sorry, I thought there was a spider on your phone.” To Lydia, she gestured with her head to the fairy ring, hidden by some long grass.

Lydia chimed in on the conversation occasionally, with small delicate tidbits or questions to supplement Deirdre’s. The closer they got to the mushrooms, the more Lydia’s inside felt like champagne. Light and fizzy and delicate, sweet and soothing. If she listened carefully, she could already feel that silent, magical music, thrumming through her in complete harmony. Her black dress felt itchy, her boots to encumbering. Lydia wanted to feel mulch and worms beneath her toes, to spread her wings and glow. The moon was just right too. Deirdre smacked the phone out of Emma’s hand, and Lydia made a show of typing something into google on hers before Emma picked her up again. “I’ve got it! Lydia called, holding up her own phone. “This way,” Lydia called, her voice like bells as she pulled Emma deeper into the woods. One, two, three - Lydia nearly moaned as they stepped inside the fairy ring, the magic pure excstacy, “We’re here!”

“I… don’t see a party,” Emma said, looking uncertainly at Deirdre once again, Lydia noticed. And again. Humans were not subtle with their favourites. Lydia laughed.

“Don’t you? Can’t you hear the mushroom music? See all our friends below?” There were gnomes in the circles too, that Lydia pointed to, already kicking off one shoe. “We’re going to have so much fun my dear,” she promised, and smiled against Emma’s cheek, eerily close. ‘Now, my dear, dance for me here.”

Something felt bad in the pit of Deirdre's stomach, like she ate spoiled yogurt. Something about the mushrooms didn't seem right, and with the last of her sense, she opened her mouth to apologize or stop this or—"MUSHROOOOMS!!" she jumped up and down on Emma's phone, cracking the screen before she skipped over to Lydia and joined in the glorious mushroom song. She found the ring with ease, stepping in and feeling all at once the only thing that ever mattered: mushrooms. Here, nothing was wrong. Nothing was ever wrong with mushrooms. "You can't have all the fun without me!" Deirdre laughed giddily, bouncing from one foot to the other. Deirdre kicked her shoes off, peeling off her top with another fluid motion (mushrooms were always better enjoyed in the nude). Emma, on the other hand, was filled with less glee. She moved to dance clunkily, almost as if she didn't want to. "No, No!" Deirdre groaned, grabbing Emma's hands. "You humans dance all bad! Like this!" She demonstrated, pulling her this way or that, light on her feet and expert enough to avoid crushing any gnomes. "These are our friends! Play us some music, Emma!" Emma's eyes grew wide as her lips pursed, she tried to whistle a song, maintaining her pathetic dance routine, but the sound kept cracking as she sobbed silently. "Okay, no more music; your music is sad. You're supposed to be happy! Lydia, why isn't she happy? Is it because she's human?" She turned to her friend, who understood the joy of mushrooms just as she did.

The first boot off, Lydia quickly kicked it out of the ring, and into the dark. The rhythm thrumed through her, and she laughed at Deirdre, with Deirdre, dancing to the rhythm of the music as she kicked off her next boot. Slide her arms down the length of her body, like she might for a lover, to ruck up her dress and pull it over her head. She giggled, left just in bra and her underwear as she watched Deirdre pull the human into dance, tried to get her to make the music. “Oh my god, she can’t sing or dance? What kind of fucking human did we pick up. Next time, we’ve gotta pick up a group. Still, I guess we can figure something out.” Emma sobbed, and Lydia smiled as she wiped those ugly tears away. “Don’t cry.” Emma stopped with a strangled gulp, her eyes widening and drying up at once. “Ugh, what a fucking eyesore. C’mon, let’s find you something to do to entertain us. Can you juggle?” Emma shook her head. “Can you try?” A small nod. “Sweet. Here, try with these!” Lydia grinned again, picking up some very conveniently sharp rocks.

Deirdre tried to pull off her pants, but they were too tight. Why were her pants so tight? And why couldn't she disrobe and dance at the same time? And why did the mushroom music sound like bones being tapped together when there were no bones? Why were there no bones? These questions plagued Deirdre's mind. So she hopped from one foot to the other in her bra and leather pants, insecure about her abundance of clothing. She would have shed the bra if it didn't mean she couldn't wav her arms to the mushroom beat. And then there was Emma, poor, sweet disgustingly human Emma. She tried to juggle, but she was so bad at it. Just like she was bad at dancing and whistling and she was trying so hard not to cry that her face was ugly red and blotchy. She dropped a rock on her foot, wiched and picked it up to juggle again. She dropped it again. Picked it up. Dropped it. Cut her finger on the sharp edge of one of the rocks, spilling blood into their fairy ring. She bit her lip and tried to juggle again. She wanted to cry so badly that she was blubbering now, but her tears wouldn't come. Her cut seemed to grow wider, the rocks were stained with blood as she tossed them around in a mockery of juggling. Deirdre dropped her hands, she didn't like this. The mushrooms didn't like this. "Stop that," she commanded, and Emma dropped her rocks to the floor, causing gnomes to scramble away. She picked up her shirt and wrapped it around Emma's bleeding finger. "Lydia," she whined, "I don't like this human. She makes me feel bad. Like bad on the inside. I can't enjoy the dancing like this! We should have went with the group. Should we get rid of her? I-I'm so sorry, Lydia. I'm so bad at doing things. I'm so sorry. I wanna be good. I try to be good. Why isn't this fun for me? Do I need—maybe I need to be more naked." And now she was crying as she blabbered on.

Lydia, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing, throwing a leaf or twig at Emma every time she dropped it with an inelegant woop. The blood didn’t bother her, humans bled so very easily, and cried and whined and whimpered so very easily. They always did at these things, unless you kissed them or drugged them, or were just really, really not very risk aware at all, which was common in humans too. She thrust her hips and swung her arms in a wave like shape, the traditional Leanan summer dance. When she glanced at Deirdre through, her movements slowed, and she stepped over her bra to the banshee in some concern. Her leaves mulched between her toes as she walked over to Deirdre, bandaging the human up and stopping it like that. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Deirdre, we can’t go back for the group now. Is it because she’s sad? They’re freaking always sad, Deirdre, they don’t want to be here. That’s half the fun, they’re prey! Is this because of Morgan? Do you want me to take off your bra to make you feel better?”

"Well, I know that but..." Deirdre trailed off, blinking, waiting for Lydia to understand it. "I wish Morgan was here," she mumbled. Things were better with Morgan; she would explain why she was sad, she would understand. Deirdre wished she was dancing the mushroom tune with her. But she wasn't. She was here with Lydia and sad, un-fun Emma. "I don't want them to be sad! It ruins the mushrooms!" Morgan would get it. Deirdre frowned, looking between Emma and her pleading eyes and Lydia and her steady ones. "You're right. I'm just not naked enough for this. Can you take my bra off? I can't reach it right." And her pants too, but she wasn't going to push her luck and ask for that. She spared one last look at sad Emma. "Smile, Emma! Be happy!" She told her, and Emma's red face sported a wide but thin and unnatural smile. "There! See! All better! The mushrooms are pleased! You're so smart, Lydia."

All the air rushed out of Lydia. The fairy ring cloud was thick in her mind, but now she wasn’t floating above it in a giddy rush so much as stuck beneath it, wondering where the sun had gone. She looked down at the gnomes, swaying and dancing between their ankles. The odd one looked up and gave them a sharp look, as if telling to get with the program. She smiled, snaking her arms around Deirdre to catch the clasp and unfasten it, pulling the straps down Deirdre’s arms and letting that fall to the ground too. “Yeppers, great. Now she’s all happy, so you can take her home and woo her and fall in love with her and adopt a cat with her.” Lydia turned away, her elytra raising sharply, her skin glowing harsh gold under the moonlight. “All I want to do is celebrate not being stuck to someone anymore and all you want is to be back with your barely non-human girlfriend. In a fairy ring! That kinda sucks, Deirdre! Ugh. Let’s just send her into the woods to be eaten by an alghoul and dance, okay? I said, don’t cry!” That was directed at Emma, who had sniffled around her strangely twisted mouth.

Nudity had finally been achieved...well, half-achieved, as her stubborn, tight pants remained. But Deirdre could work with this now. And Emma was smiling, and everything was okay if she just didn’t look too hard or think too hard or focus on anything that wasn’t dancing. Everything was the way it should be in a fairy ring! Happy and naked and--- “Lydia?” Deirdre reached out for her friend, a hand hovering above her shoulder--pausing as she regarded the wings. “I don’t wanna do any of that. I wanna dance with you.” But it was hard to dance when Lydia wasn’t looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I won’t talk about Morgan anymore.” Even though, among bones and mushrooms, Morgan was the only thing she really wanted to talk about it. And she couldn’t understand what was wrong. Did Lydia want to adopt a cat with her too? “Let’s dance! Let’s dance!” She reached for her hand, trying to rope her back into some dancing. “You’re so pretty, Lydia. You’re the most beautiful woman---” second to Morgan, and herself, and that mushroom over there and that skeleton she saw a few days ago. “---you have wings! You’re so cool! I look like a stupid human. I look like an Emma!” She gestured to their dumb, useless entertainment meat sack. “I’m sorry I wasn’t dancing. I’m dancing now! Emma, turn around so I can’t look at you.” And Emma did, just as Deirdre tactfully avoided the idea of killing her. Something about that didn’t vibe with the mushrooms, deep inside. “Do you want a cat, Lydia?”

“Hmph!” Lydia replied. “Don’t say things that can be turned into promises you can’t keep. It’s not that you’re even talking about your girlfriend. Its- whatever. Whatever!” Lydia threw her hands up in the air, but turned when Deirdre reached for her hand, into the touch. She didn’t immediately begin to dance, she didn’t want to, not when Deirdre would rather have a zombie in the ring than her, not when she saw the signs of - Lydia swallowed. Nope. Nep. Níl. This was fairy ring magic soaking into her bones, she could let go of such worries. Especially with Deirdre feeding right into her vanity like this, filling her heart with butterflies. “Darling, you never look stupid. I’ve seen your eyes go black and all death predicty, and you’re more beautiful than any of them could ever be.” So why would you date one? Lydia bit the inside of her cheek hard to hold that question back. “No. My pets are already a handful. But you know, I met Beans the other day, he was a real cutie.” She couldn’t help it - the desire to bubble up again was overreaching. Mushrooms broke things down, but brought life too, and it overflowed in her despite the sting she couldn’t repress in the moment. She let Deirdre pull her into dance, squeezing her hand briefly. Lydia spun and turned to Emma, already over the slight from the moment before. “Hey, can you-” No, Deirdre didn’t want that. Lydia rolled her eyes, and turned her attention back to the dance. Waste of a good human.

“Please don’t make me promise to stop talking about my girlfriend! I like my girlfriend. I like talking about her. She dances really good by the way, and--” Deirdre trailed off, embarrassed. For some reason (Deirdre suspected cat jealousy), Lydia didn’t like hearing about Morgan. Or was it...did Lydia not like Morgan? “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend? ‘Cause you’re being a real H-word right now.” The H-word being human, naturally. “Which means like, you’re confusing me. If you have something to say, you should say it! The mushrooms would want that.” And though this was supposed to be some confessional moment, Deirdre continued her dancing. There was no greater balm for the soul than the mushroom music, after all. “No, you’re really pretty! Like the prettiest! You’re my favorite fae in town. The rest are all so...not cool like you. I love you, and mushrooms, and bones, and pie and---Not you, Emma! I said turn around!” She paused, “we’re doing sooo much talking and not enough dancing, I feel.” Which clearly meant they needed more dancing, and more and more and...what was that? “What?” She giggled her curiosity to Lydia, “what did you want Emma to do?“

“I’m not, obviously, but if you weren’t going to you shouldn’t have said you would!” Lydia retorted. The opportunity to make it a promise would have been as easy as catching a fly in a fridge, but she watched it sail past all the same, until it was much too late to do anything, like any good friend would. The next words out of Deirdre’s mouth made Lydia’s nose flare, her wings flashing brightly and aggressively. “I’M AN H WORD? You’re the one who won’t let me have fun with the human RIGHT here! You’re the one who fell in love with a human! You’re the one who let me find that out from your girlfriend instead of you! We’re standing in a FUCKING FAIRY RING, which are so rare this time of year we probably won’t see another until August, and all you want is to be with your zombie girlfriend! I don’t have a problem with her, I have a problem with you!” Lydia stomped her foot, squelching on some kind of decaying fruit or dead animal remains or probably even human remains in a place like this. She bopped her chest and spun in the music of the mushrooms, and yep, the gnomes were definitely judging them now. “You just told me to say what I feel! I was happy being a fae in a fairy circle, make the human pull out her own hair lock by lock, or dance until she inevitable collapsed of exhaustion and then make her dance more anyway or see whether she can climb a tree without breaking her neck but if you don’t want to see her cry then we won’t freaking do any of that!”

Deirdre crumpled, taking each sentence Lydia flung at her with a wince and a whimper. This was not the mushroom vibe. “I just---” She deflated, curling into herself. “I just wanted to spend time with you, and do something fun. I know you didn’t like people attached to Simon, and I want to get to know you better because you’ve been such a good friend and I just wanna dance naked and--” she sniffled. “It’s weird for me. Humans used to not be people but now they kind of feel like people and I don’t like it and Emma cries really ugly and I don’t want to look at it but I also want to spend time with you and have fun and I want you to have fun and---” she blubbered on, catching a glimpse of the gnomes below, scowling at them the way gnomes did. “Of course I wish Morgan was here, I always wish she was. I like spending time with her. She doesn’t make me feel---” scared, but the word caught in her throat. It wasn’t Lydia’s fault Deirdre was terrified, and she did like spending time with the other fae. But she couldn’t help that something in her had changed, and whatever that was, it was making something about this whole affair very unpleasant. But Lydia’s problem was with her. She was the problem. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like being problems. The desire for approval flared deep within her, and she pulled a knife from her boot and sunk it easily into Emma’s shoulder---garnering a yelp and cry. “We can play with her! I’m sorry. I’ll be good! We can play! Emma, turn around and dance, and don’t say a word unless spoken to.” And Emma, the dutiful entertainment source, did as commanded.

In normal circumstances, Lydia would have regretted the words the moment the words left her mouth. Normally, she would have never been so extremely honest. Watching Deirdre crumple into herself, shrinking up the way Simon had, made Lydia’s heart ache. Her small hands had curled into fists, hurt and stung by being called the worst thing you could be. People slang words like murderer and evil and manipulative at her from time to time, but no one had ever accused her of being human. No one ever could, not with how she dealt with her diet. “Humans always feel like people. They think like people, too. That doesn’t change what they are, ever.” Her voice was quieter, but still simmering with heat in it. “No shit you like spending time with her, you love her, but this is fae. This belongs to us, no other species! She makes you feel what?” Deirdre bent down as Lydia swivelled her hips in rhythm, her eyes widening when she saw the glint of sharpened metal, reflecting in gold glow. She gasped as Deirdre thrust it into Emma’s shoulder, covering her mouth. A giggle surprised her, followed by another and another, until she was laughing at the sad human’s pain, the grief look of betrayal in Emma’s eyes. Oh, she’d hoped that Deirdre was a nice one. Poor lost Emma. Lydia laughed and took Deirdre’s hands, ignoring the blood, and pulled her into a twisting, spinning dance. Emma didn’t speak, as she… did the Macarena, but the longer she danced, the more her top stuck to her skin and grew shiny as blood trickled out of the wound, worsened by every move of her arm. Her face grew even paler, her movements becoming sluggish. The injured arm dropped to her side, even as Lydia tasked. “Dance faster, girl.”

“But if you think they’re people, how can you---” Deirdre frowned, though she left the topic where it laid. She was too high for this. Too focused on being naked and dancing. She knew the logic well. Humans were inferior, inherently. And they lacked the innocent, simple minds of the animals. And so, they were okay to torture and degrade. Fae were superior, in all regards. But she’d loved a human as her equal, and in doing so, cursed herself with the thought that more humans could be seen that way---even if Morgan was just special. She hadn’t pieced it together completely, and she certainly wasn’t going to try when the mushrooms were singing. “I want to share fae things with her too,” she mumbled, though her words were lost under Lydia’s laughter. That was good, she was laughing. All was forgotten. Deirdre kept her eyes away from the human, laughing along into her spin and dance. Emma struggled, though forced to dance fast, her movements were clunky like a puppet’s strings being haphazardly tossed around. Deirdre couldn’t watch, but didn’t want Lydia to see her remorseful, and so she kept her eyes on the grass under Emma. But these weren’t fae things, she wanted to say, these weren’t the things she wanted to share with Morgan. They were just...cruel. Was this all fae were? The mushroom song seemed to ebb and flow as her mind resisted what was happening around her. For the sake of her sanity, she focused on dancing. Dancing was fun. “Sorry I said you were acting like an H-word, Lydia. I didn’t mean it!” She said, happily enough. “I was just a little sad you weren’t being honest with me. Friends should be honest, right?” Spoken by the liar, as she danced and ignored the pained human. “But we should have fun! Are you having fun now?” Would conversation distract Lydia from torturing Emma? Would it save her pathetic, inherently inferior, human life?

“I don’t think they’re people. They aren’t.” Lydia replied curtly. Fortunately, all that dissipated with Deirdre in her arms. Even if she was still in those cursed leather jeans which… did make her ass look great, sure, but Lydia was a betting woman. Deirdre’s ass would look great regardless. She spun Deirdre under her arms, shimmying her chest and beating her wings to the beat. Her elytra moved too, an intricate dance only those with beetle like wings could do. God, she was proud of her wings, especially glowing under the moonlight. Unlike Deirdre, she watched Emma keenly, grinning at the absurd obscenity of it all. She wouldn’t have stabbed the girl, far too gross for her liking, but it did add a delightfully macabre element to it, didn’t it? “Friends should be honest, but you weren’t being honest with me, either.” Lydia didn’t point out that she still wasn’t being honest, that Lydia could see how Deirdre turned her head away from Emma, over and over and over. With the mushrooms on her mind, though, Lydia couldn’t bring herself to care, giggling once more as Emma stumbled. And the She fell, clutching her shoulder, her face contorted in fresh waves of pain, but even on the floor, she wriggled like a worm, her body determined to dance even as her strength was failing. “Oh no, I think you broke her.” Lydia said with a laugh.

They were like people, right. Deirdre hid another frown. She had hoped, maybe, that Lydia would see it the way she did. How did she begin to reconcile these things together? And did it matter, in the face of mushrooms? Probably not. And how could they when Lydia looked radiant? “You’re beautiful,” she gasped and then giggled, watching her wings with awe, tinged by envy. She wanted to touch them. She lifted her hand and opened her mouth to ask when Emma fell over. That was bad, right? That was probably bad. But if she went over there, Lydia wouldn’t think she was cool, and that was worse, right? Her morals lost their legs under the mushroom’s influence, she tried to make some part of her stand, but all that was left was the girl who craved to be the kind of fae that Lydia was. But--- “No! She can’t do that! We have to get her to promise not to say anything first!” Deirdre shimmied to her, falling to the floor beside her and groping around for some discarded clothing. She could not remember how medical care worked in her state, but she knew blood was bad. Immobility was bad. “Emma? Stop dancing, Emma.” She couldn’t help while she was writhing. “Listen to the mushrooms, Emma. You need to stay awake to dance and entertain us.” And live, and go home, and pretend like none of this had happened. Deirdre pulled the knife out of her, quickly pressing the discarded shirt to the gushing wound. “What are the promises, Lydia?” She turned to the other fae, “what do we usually make them say? No telling anyone about what happened? No talking about who we are or what we look like? No--D-do we make her forget?”

Lydia rolled her eyes as Deirdre’s will gave, and she watched her friend rush over to help the writhing, wriggling human. No matter, the mushrooms called and Lydia was more than thrilled to solo with the tiny gnomes. These dances were as old as time itself, which was why she grunted as she jumped from leg to leg, raising each knee to her chest and simultaneously clapping her hands against her other knee. But she stilled with a sigh as Deirdre called to her. Lydia knelt in the decomposing leaves, her hand cupping Emma’s face. The true terror there wasn’t as fun without another fae to share. “I don’t have the magic to make her forget. Oh well. I’ll do this, you focus on her shoulder. Hey, Emma, pet, you did so well. Would you prefer it if we killed you now, or got you back to town?” Without realising, Lydia had turned to the soft lilting way she spoke to her own humans at some times, gently smoothing down Emma’s blue hair as she smiled at the human. “Darling, I can’t hear you. A little louder, please.”

“T-town.”

“Oh, there we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it. And all we need is three little promises.” Lydia gently wiped the grime off her face, wiping away those nearly dried tears. “Can you do that for me?” A small nod. “I want you to promise that you’ll never tell anyone anything that happened tonight.”

“I promise.”

“I want you to promise that you’ll never describe Deirdre nor I to anyone in any way, not even via drawing, nor reveal our whereabouts, or indicate anything about us to anyone”

“I-I promise.”

“There. Last one, and this is the hardest. We have complete control of you for the rest of the week if we want it, you know. So what I really want you to do? Is continue as if nothing happened. Go to class, church, book club, whatever it is you usually. Do. Go home like you would after a night in the club, and sleep it off. Do you promise that?”

Emma groaned in pain, and met Lydia’s eyes for the first time that night. They were an unyielding blue. As impersonal as a statue. “Y-Yes.”

Lydia pat Emma’s hair. “Good girl. Try and stand up, and we’ll walk you back. Right, Deirdre?”

How was Lydia so collected right now? The more Deirdre looked at Emma, the more her head started to swirl into a mushroom. Her foot began to tap a rhythm nervously as Lydia went on. She couldn’t focus, she didn’t want to focus. She wanted to be home, where things were gentle. “You don’t have to---” she croaked, though her sentence did not end. If only she had more sense, she could focus on getting the promises out so Lydia wouldn’t have to. She wanted to have fun, this wasn’t fun. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her apology directed at both women. “No!” She stood up abruptly, “no, we have to dance! I’m going to make this fun for you! She can walk back, and if she dies on the way, who cares, right? I wanna dance with you. I wanna have fun with you. You’re my friend. She’s not. I don’t want to walk her anywhere!” She pouted, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “It’s dance time! That’s what the mushrooms want.”

It was a relief to hear Deirdre’s protest, that the night wasn’t completely lost. That they wouldn’t have to leave these fine pastures for Deirdre’s bleeding heart. Lydia stood, and so did Emma, clutching at her shoulder. “You heard her, it’s that way, roughly. Don’t follow any dancing light and it you hear something growl, run. Have fun.” Lydia replied with a sharp smile. Emma stared at Deirdre, her lip wobbling. “Now.” As if dragged on a lead, Emma turned and walked away. No, as Lydia watched her, walking was far too generous a word. She stumbled and yelled as she tripped on a branch here, but staggered back up, swaying as she moved forward. Lydia grew bored quickly of watching. Despite all her moods this evening, one was universal. Lydia turned back to Deirdre with a broad smile. “C’mon. It’s time to get you out of those leather pants.”

#wickedswriting #para #chatzy #deirdre #this is a wild time with a LOT going on #lydia is evil

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danetobelieve · 5 years ago

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Truth Or Dare Or Die || Lydia and Winston ft Pixies

With everything that was going on, Winston had decided that there was nothing they needed to do other then take a very long walk through the forests of harris island. The place was beautiful. Serene and tranquil. Often it helped Winston clear their mind. It was one of the few times that they didn’t force tech into their every moment and as they strode the dirt tracks that deer and foxes took when no one was looking they wondered if they were the first people to go here today. They had just made it into a clearing that was filled with rings of mushrooms and other damp looking moss. They weren’t far into the clearing when a tiny creature with insect like wings fluttering from it’s back zoomed up to Winston’s face, laughed and booped their nose before zooming away towards a cluster of stumps. “Uh, do you want me to … go that way?”

Lydia was settled under a tree with a bottle of wine and a dozen cups the size of her finger, chattering idly with the pixies twisting her hair into intricate little braids. She’d just had a piece of treebark handed to her by a juvenile pixie, and was pouring over the delicate details carved into the wood. “This is astounding, Pennyleaf. A genuinely beautiful piece. You should be so proud!” It was also a rather grim picture. The pixies weren’t too interested in human styles, but she would have called it an expressionist momento mori piece - portraying a giant skeleton ripping the wings and head off a pixie in his hand. She handed it back to Pennyleaf, who shone brightly in pride before dipping back into their nest to proudly display it. Violetina, who had been out bee-riding, suddenly buzzed back, squealing softly about someone to play with. The pixies chattered quickly, and pulled Lydia up to standing via her fingers, and she looked accross to the clearing nearby. Ah, now that was a face she did know. Lydia grinned as she walked over, treading carefully to avoid breaking any fairy rings. “They want you to join them in a game,” Lydia called out to Winston, laughing in amusement as Violetina murmured in her ears. “Oh, no, they’re not a hunter,” she reassured the little pixie. “Are you willing to join?” She called out to Winston, “Don’t worry, the pixies are darlings.”

Spotting Lydia in the distance, sat beneath a tree surrounded by these things set Winston slightly more and less at ease all at once. On one hand Lydia didn’t seem extremely dangerous on face value but on the other hand that meant absolutely nothing because they had definitely been there when they were attacked by floating scalpels. Winston’s least favourite activity. “Their game?” Winston asked taking a moment to wonder exactly what kind of game these pixies could play that Winston would want in on. “Are they ... “ Winston wanted to say fae or fairies or fair folk or anything just to confirm their suspicion that they were indeed not human, although that much was obvious from their size, “y’know.” They nodded their head as they spoke to indicate what they meant to Lydia. She of course seemed elegant and graceful as usual, in her element with her glass of wine and surrounded by enthralled pixies. “Okay, I guess I could play their game …” Winston wasn’t sure that they could just say no, “What exactly do I have to do?”

Lydia nodded, sitting down on a tree stump, tucking her skirt carefully underneath her, nodding reassuringly at Violetina as the little pixie darted back to Winston and then back to Lydia, before booping Winston on the nose again. “Are they dangerous? Only if you lie. Otherwise they’re lovely, and wonderful to play games with.” Violetina looked at them shyly, then darted shyly over to Winston’s ear. “Let’s play truth or dare! You first! Truth or dare! Lydia’s playing too!”

Winston settled down opposite Lydia on another tree stump that they were sure hadn’t been there a few moments ago. One of these things, the pixies, the one that Lydia had called Pennyleaf darted through the air towards them and settled on the shoulder. “Okay, well I don’t really make a habit of lying.” Plus if they were fae there was a good precedent to be set for not lying to them. Semantics and fairy folk didn’t mix well together as they knew from experience. “Okay, sure, I guess I’ll start easy, truth. What do you want to know? I’m an open book!” they paused for a moment and then remembered what they’d said about lying. “Obviously not literally, but, metaphorically? It’s a figure of speech you know.” Winston looked at Pennyleaf who shot them a thumbs up and nodded like they were doing great.

Violetina buzzed, flipping in midair as she giggled. Even Lydia supressed a smile, her ankles crossed as she watched Winston. It was dangerous to think the truth could be easy, but they would learn that soon. The little pixie was so excited with the question she had come up with that Lydia daren’t interrupt. “If someone wanted to ruin your life, what secret about you could they use to do it?” Violetina giggled, booping Winston’s nose. “Oh! And you and pennyleaf have to give me a dare!” Lydia laughed. “You’re supposed to wait until after they tell the truth before asking for what you want, Violetina.”

Pennyleaf giggled with glee, he loved to play these delightful little games and these humans were oh so silly thinking that they made a good choice by choosing truth. Pennyleaf could see the smug look in their eyes with their answer. “Teehee teehee!” he shrieked with a rapturous joy. “If someone wanted to ruin my life then all they would have to do is lock me in a jar and never let me out. I would have to do everything they told me and it would suck.”

Winston had to wonder what exactly they had done to get the Pixie version of themself hovering around their head, but right now they were doing everything that they could to think fast. This was what Athena had warned them against. You couldn’t just lie to fae, they had done enough reading to know what would happen if they tried that. “Uh, I … fuck …” Winston frowned and looked at their shoes, knowing they had no chance. “Fuck, I help a vampire witch hunter with tech support and I’m magic.” They slammed a hand over their mouth but the damage was done. “Your turn,” they tried not to show the fear in their eyes, that wasn’t something they had wanted to share, “What’s your darkest fear? The one thing you’re terrified of coming to pass.” Maybe it was vindictive, what could this rich artist actually fear that was so terrifying. But Winston was scared. What had they gotten themselves into?

Lydia raised an eyebrow, with a soft, warm smile. “That’s quite the pickle you have there. You should be careful when you play with fire. If it makes you feel better, I’m hardly about to seek out this vampire to spill your secrets.” This was a dangerous game, but she meant him no harm, not right now. “You’re learning,” she replied, as they asked the same question in kind. The answer should have been something mundane, like the fear of losing her friends. These were supposed to be about revealing your love for other people. If Lydia was truly, truly honest, though, the answer didn’t lie in people like Deirdre or her siblings. “My deepest fear is to have what I am stripped from me. To be destroyed mentally and physically until I am no longer able to be myself.” To have her wings ripped out, to be made human. To be made like her humans. Of course, this was the fae game - give an answer that was complete to those that understood the context. “Right, Violetina, I’d like you to steal some honey from the bee nest back there. Winston, would you like to give Pennyleaf a dare?”

“I appreciate that,” Winston replied, although they had to admit that they were somewhat disappointed by the lack of specificity in Lydia’s answer. They were hoping that they would have something that they would at least be able to use for blackmail if they had to. But instead what they got was something vague and unhelpful. Winston almost wished that they had been smart enough to do something like that, but something told them that Lydia was a little bit more experienced at this kind of thing then they were. “Pennyleaf, I’d like to dare you to please design yourself a tailored suit out of pine needs and and branches,” Winston said hoping that it would be enough to keep him busy for a bit and one less pixie had to be a good thing, “does that mean it’s my turn again?” They immediately regretted asking. It had been spiteful and petty to say it like that, something a sulky teenager might do. But that meant that Winston now had to reap the benefits of their actions.

Lydia waved their sulky question away as she pondered what kind of dare to give the spellcaster, tapping her smiling lips with her finger. Just then, Violetina buzzed back up, all excited as she shook large lumps of pollen from her hair, scattering it all over the pair of them. She triumphantly held up a tiny jar, barely the size of a thimble. “Look, no bees saw me! Well, one did, but then I pretended to be a bee and told them about some lavender that needed pollen collecting!”

“Well done, lovely. We’re trying to think of a dare to give Winston. Do you have any ideas?” Lydia asked with a smile, pouring herself more wine. Not wanting to be rude, she offered a glass to Winston too. Violetina gasped, and whispered in Lydia’s ear, before darting off. She came back with two human sized teaspoons and another tiny jar of golden liquid. Lydia poured the honey onto one teaspoon as Violetina poured the other jar onto the other teaspoon. Lydia picked up both teaspoons, showed them to Winston, before swapping them from hand to hand behind her back. When she spoke, she enunciated the start of each first word in the sentence carefully, and paused at the end of each sentence. “Long ago, humans believed that there was a seperate fae world, unlike this one. Every human who entered could leave, as long as they didn’t eat fae food. Fae food could trap humans into serving the fae forever. There’s a little truth to every fairytale, and only one of these spoons is plain honey. I dare you to choose one to lick.” She offered both spoons in front of them, a cocky smile playing on her lips. Violetina giggled uncontrollably.

Pennyleaf zipped off in search of pine needles apparently and Winston was somewhat surprised to see them return almost immediately with a stack of them. They were about to ask just exactly where they had found them all from in such a short amount of time before Violentina returned as well covered in pollen. If Winston had truly taken a moment to consider the situation they would’ve realised just how bizarre this was. Pennyleaf set about stacking and arranging the pine needles, producing tiny scissors from somewhere and slicing the needles into small section of … well needle.

Doing their best to ignore the pixie, Winston turned their attention back to the matter at hand. Graciously taking the glass of wine, they nodded in thanks but didn’t drink. Listening carefully to Lydia’s riddle. Winston frowned gently as they considered everything that she had said. They listened carefully, having her repeat the obvious riddle a few more times. This was something that they were good at, but none of her clues made any sense when it came to choosing which one of the pots were safe to eat. Maybe there was no danger whatsoever but Winston wasn’t about to take that chance. They had seen way too much weird fae stuff in their time aware of the supernatural to risk that. There were four sentences, each sentence talked about fae food, maybe that wasn’t it. Winston wasn’t sure. They swallowed nervously, their hand twitching restlessly. Reaching out, they went for the only thing they could think of. Left. They weren’t sure if they were right, and tentatively licked the spoon, closing their eyes as they did. It tasted like honey. “Did … I pick right?” they asked cracking an eye before opening both feeling semi foolish. They had almost expected to go up in pixie dust or something.

Violetina cackled, clutching at her belly right in front of Winston’s face. Even Lydia couldn’t surpress the deep belly laughed as they squeezed shut their “No, darling, you picked left,” Lydia teased, popping the other spoon in her mouth. “You did. That one is the plain honey. Well done! Although, sweetheart, you are a little gullible.” She laughed, pulling the spoon out of her mouth with a plop. “This is just maple syrup. You should have seen your face though!” Lydia held her belly, before looking at him with sympathy mixed in with her smile. “No harm done, darling. Come on now, dare.”

The stress that had been culminating in their stomach evaporated. Maybe this wasn’t as disastrous as they had feared that it would be. Shaking their head, Winston let out a nervous chuckle. “I - that’s not exactly - you know what never mind it doesn’t matter I guess that means that it is my turn.” They drummed on their knees and looked over to Pennyleaf who was somehow sewing their pine needles into trousers. Winston was impressed. “I dare you…” they looked around trying their best to think of something that would work. Despite everything, this game had just been playful. It hadn’t been as if Lydia was doing something to hurt them. It was just a bit weird. “I dare you to tell me what you are.” Winston replied eventually. It was stupid and they regretted it immediately. A heat of the moment thing. But Winston had said it now and they weren’t sure that this was something that they could just take back.

“That’s not a dare! That’s a truth!” Violetina protested loudly, hands on her hips as she stared disapprovingly at Winston. Lydia shook her head dismissively, that wasn’t a problem.

“Why don’t I show you as well?” She asked, standing upright as she looked at them with a piercing gaze. The back of her dress shifted, just a tiny bit, as holes sewn to look like tailored seams shifted and opened, her eyes glinted and shifted from mahogany to blue. Her hair shifted as long pointed ears revealed themselves, whatever small flaws on her skin beginning to fade away. Her yellow and brown firefly elytra shells lifted up from her back, and translucent wings unfurled from beneath them. In the sunlight, her skin didn’t glow, but it didn’t need to to reflect her ethereal inhumanity. “I’m fae, leanan-sidhe. You’re fortunate. Not everyone who sees my true visage survives the experience. Is it what you were expecting, spellcaster?”

Winston had not at all expected this. They knew that fae existed but they had not expected them to actually have wings that were like … /that/. Swallowing nervously, they struggled with what to say for a moment before cautiously speaking. “I wondered if …” they spoke slowly, “if maybe there was a closer relationship with the pixie then just a budding friendship, but honestly, this is kind of cool…” they weren’t sure where the confession had come from, but they were in a clearing in the middle of the forest with two pixie and a leanan-sidhe and they had wine. Not really what they had expected when they had started this walk. “Can you fly?” was their next question, their excitement at this new development perhaps a bit too clear.

Lydia raised an eyebrow, but loved showing off, even to humans. Standing even straighter, tensing her core, she began beating her wings, generating winds around them as her feet lifted from the ground and raised her arms. “Is it, now? We aren’t here for your entertainment.” She said, with an icy smile as she set her feet back on the ground. “Careful, child. I think it’s nearly your turn again.”

Because tiny Violetina had rolled up her metaphorical sleeves, and had curled her tiny hands into a fist, and buzzed right up to Winston, swinging her fists at their face angrily. “We have a name!” She screamed in a tiny squeak. “Who do you think you are, big leg? You can’t just call me the pixie like that!” It, of course, hadn’t occured to the tiny pixie that she’d never introduced herself.

Raising their hands against the tiny pixie that was violently attacking them, Winston jerked away and tried to keep her from pummelling them anymore. “Hey, no offense but you never introduced yourself,” and they turned to Lydia and sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I only found out about all of this stuff a few months ago and these are the first set of fairy wings that I’ve seen in person and it’s really impressive seeing one of them for the first time…” they swallowed hoping that they hadn’t just set themselves up for something more dangerous.

“That’s no excuse!” Violetina roared in a pipsqueak, charging up her fist to punch them even harder (which was not that hard).

“Oh, darling, it is. A rather good one at that,” Lydia pointed out. Violetina stopped.

“Oh. I guess not. You get away with it this time! I’m Violetina, and that’s Pennyleaf. Well, it’s not our realest realest names, but we don’t give those to the giants. No offence.”

Lydia vanished her wings under a glamour once more, watching Winston curiously. “They are rather impressive, aren’t they? Even more so at night.” Humans were so easily dazzled. It was perhaps why they’d evolved to be like this, to stun and impress, so that humans would come to be eaten willingly, over and over. “You’re forgiven. Truth, right? If you happened to die today, what would you regret, aside from the witch hunter?”

Pennyleaf was shrieking with laughter in a brand new suit made of pine needles, his wings fluttering at a high speed to keep him buzzing in place. “I haven’t even told my own mother my realest realest real name,” he proudly announced although it was a complete lie as his mother had been the one to name him, “certainly not for the likes of you giants.”

Nodding, “I understand completely,” Winston replied with a nod, “I don’t know if I would be willing to share my realest real name with just anyone.” They reached up and considered Lydia’s next question. When could they realistically justify just … leaving. Just walking away? Had they inadvertently made some promise that would keep them here. “They’re very impressive, there’s so much in this world that is so impressive …” they fell silent and considered the question that they had been posed with. “I think, if I were to die today, the thing I would regret is not being able to help more people, there’s … so many people who are being hunted or their people are being killed and it’s so fucked. It’s all so fucked and I think someone needs to change that.” They didn’t know why they had beared their soul so openly but here they were anyway. “Why?”

“How very…. noble of you,” Lydia replied, eyebrows raised sky high. “However, there have been people trying to stop hunters since time immemorial. There is nothing wrong with lofty goals. Just know that few have ever succeeded.” They looked more uncomfortable by the minute, but Lydia just smiled, pearlescent teeth glinting in the sun. “Because it is an interesting question. I do not plan to kill you, Winston. This is just a game, and you play well. I’ll promise bind you, of course, but that’s neither here nor there, and I’ll make you a promise to allay your fears as well. Now would you like to continue?”

“And who said that I was just trying to stop hunters? Don’t get me wrong i find the whole situation deplorable, but they’re hardly the worst. So many things treat everything else as expendable, they ignore their inherent value.” Winston had been a little shocked to learn of just how unequal their world was in people’s opinions. “As long as you’re not hurting anyone then it shouldn’t matter.” Winston paused and considered, “I can -- and I want to be clear that I am only discussing the possibility of this promise -- but I can in theory eventually agree to a promise binding if it’ll mean that we keep everything that we admit to ourselves, I don’t have any interest in telling anyone your secrets but it seems smart to have contingencies.”

“How very human of you,” was all Lydia had to say to that, eyebrows quirked and a smile twitching at her mouth. They were so naive in that regard. Not understanding that just because their life didn’t involve pain, didn’t mean that everyone else was like that. No matter. She wasn’t here to debate them. As they addressed the aspect of the promise, her smile became more genuine. However naive Winston was, they were smart when it came to how they worded their reply. Despite everything, it delighted her, and she couldn’t help a small pleased clap. “Very clever. Yes, that would have been the kind of mutual agreement that I would have posited. So, let us shake on it. I shan’t reveal anything you’ve shared, if you don’t reveal what I have shared. Do you agree to that?

“Maybe … I guess I’m new to this and I don’t get everything completely, but I’m not entirely certain being human is always a bad thing.” Shrugging gently, Winston had to admit that they would never be able to hope to put themselves in Lydia’s shoes. She was fae. She had wings. She probably had a point of view that Winston could never have imagined. “Fae promises are very specific and I didn’t want to agree to anything without knowing all of the information, but I guess you’d worked that out already.” They looked at her hand for a long moment, frowning before nodding. “Okay, I agree to that. Seems fair that I keep your secrets if you keep mine.” Slowly, they reached out and grasped her hands. They were warm. Which was good because if they’d been ice cold then Winston probably would’ve bolted. There was something somewhat disconcerting about putting yourself willingly into a fairy promise. Winston just hoped it wouldn’t turn around and bite them.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Lydia replied, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think it. Humans, especially young powerful ones, didn’t understand their place in the foodweb. That was their prerogative, of course. “Like I said, smart. The language of these things can be tricky.” So many of the promises Lydia made to humans were practically not promises at all, so fraught with conditionals and subjective terms that they didn’t matter. Not this one, though. She took their hand and shook, feeling the fae magic sealing into place. “I hope that allays your concerns about what you’ve shared, at least.”

“I’m not sure that you needed to.” Winston replied with a shrug. They could read tone. But, they were happy that their secrets were at least safe. “I guess that this was …” Winston would’ve normally said fun but it had been more then that, “nervewracking.” Probably best not to lie to a fairy. Swallowing the last of their wine, they smiled at Lydia. “I hope you guys all get to your respective homes safely, there are some weirdos in White Crest. Have a good night.” With that, Winston turned and walked back the way they had come, praying that they didn’t meet any more fae on their way home.

#truth or dare or die #para #p: lydia #wickedswriting #chatzy para #chatzy

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