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oceansssblue · 1 day ago

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~ [MAGICAL CREATURES SERIES] – THE BAD BATCH AU (N3)

"LIKE YOUR SHINE" — ECHO/FAIRY!OFC

FAIRIES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN NATURALLY ATTRACTED TO SPARKLING PRETTY THINGS; JEWELRY, THE REFLECTION OF THE SUN IN THE WATER, THE DELICATE WINGS OF BUTTERFLIES AND FIREFLIES... WHEN A PECULIAR GROUP OF SOLDIERS WANDER THROUGH THEIR FOREST, BLUEBELL FINDS A NEW SHINE THAT CATCHES HER EYE.

WARNINGS: Echo's insecurities and a brief pannick attack unintentionally caused by a colony of fairies that don't really know how to properly interact with humans, so they may be a little invasive. The Batch gets captured and drugged. Otherwhise it's just fluffy and cute and shy. 💖

Her voice is a sweet, melodious hum in the otherwhise quietness of Arcan's forest. Her pale pink iridiscent wings flutter in a low buzz as Bluebell makes her way through the tall trees; a gentle smile in her face whenever she encounters a smaller creature and curiously sticks her button nose right against them. Some answer in a surprised screech, inmediately going into hiding; others blink owlishly back at her, equally curious at the beautiful fairy. Some even invite her to play.

Bluebell grins and loses herself in the beauty of the forest; finding joy in the simplest things. Her friend, Marygold, tags along a few steps behind her; a grumpier expresion on her small rounded face. Bluebell knows to give her some space by now; Marygold is not a morning person –which is somewhat unusual for a fairy–. Her friend will slowly get used to life in a few more minutes and then Bluebell will be able to chat.

Her bubble gum pink eyes flicker around the forest distractedly; coming to a stop on a distant flower that reflects the warm sunlight almost like water. Bluebell flies towards it, zooming in curiously. It's a Whiteglass flower. They are some of the fairy's favorite; the small cristal petals mirrowing it's surroundings perfectly. She hums in delight and carefully traces the pad of her finger over one of the delicate petals.

"That's a pretty one" Marygold admits from behind her, having finally catched up to her friend.

Bluebell nods, turning around to face her no-longer irritated friend. No matter how different their personalities are, that's something all fairies have in common; their love for sparkling things. It's in their almost child-like nature; their innocent wonder. Fairies are peculiar creatures.

"Want to search for more before we return to the colony?" She offers, and Marygold accepts with a single nod.

For all her friend is always a bit reluctant to follow her on her morning adventures, staying at home would have been infinitely worse. It's not that fairies are obnoxiously loud; but they're certainly restless, chirpy beings, and Marygold likes her peaceful silence. At least until breakfast is served; she hates when people try to gossip with her before that. Bluebell, on the other side, is a social butterfly. She's somewhat shy, often prefering to remain quietly listening than to actively participate in a conversation; but she's happy to be around others, smiling and nodding at this story or another. For all of this and more, Bluebell is effortlessly popular among their own. Marygold has the atention of the one single male fairy she actually enjoys talking with; and that is more than enough.

They travel together, this time; flying in little twirls around each other and having their fun. All fairies dress in different shades of green, not wanting to disturb the forest's creatures and magic with too many vibrants colours –and it was also easier to camuflage–; while their wings and marks varied. Marygold's wings are a pale yellow, the small lines that climb up her wrists and undereyes golden. Bluebell's are a soft pink –her eyes only a few tones darker–. Instead of the straight marks her friend bears in her face –tracing a half halo on each cheek–, Bluebell has two tiny horizontal ones on the bridge of her nose; and an arch of small pink dots that traces the lower contour of her eyes. The marks on her legs and shoulders, instead of the geometric pattern of Marygold, hug her thin muscles in delicate waves and twirls. It compliments their personalities well.

They investigate Arcan's forest for a while; finding two more Whiteglass flowers and carefully tucking them into the safety of the pocket of their belts. They would be added to the their private collection upon returning home.

Bluebell and Marygold then spend the next couple of minutes distractedly following a firefly around; called in by the delicate transparency and the subtle iridiscent shine of its wings. It is in this little last trip when a new shine catches Bluebell's attention; the fairy's wings fluttering quickly while she hovers in place, scanning eyes trying to track the origin of the reflection.

Marygold, unaware of her reason to stop, frowns in confusion and slight irritation. By now, the firefly they were chasing has already managed to escape.

"What?" She grumbles, stopping besides her friend, squinting eyes at the forest in front of them. "What are we looking at?"

Bluebell's quiet, avid scan is finally rewarded; her pink eyes widening at the sight of a strange group of intruders wandering through the trees. She grabs Marygold's wrist and quickly tugs her forward.

"Look! I think they're humans!" She whispers in surprise, and even Marygold is shocked enough to let herself be dragged closer towards them without protesting a bit. "One... Two... Three, four, five! Five male humans!"

Marygold frowns, distrust filling her voice.

"I can see that" she deadpoints, her humour always dry. "What do you think they're doing in Arcan?"

Bluebell hums while she keeps moving, Marygold tagging behind her, cautiously following the group of men through the forest. They are quite different to each other, and yet act with so much natural familiarity; Bluebell guesses they must be their own little colony.

She can still see some similarities between them. They all have sharp features; strong jaws, strong noses, strong cheekbones and brows. The human with the round shapes over his eyes has poutier lips; the one with the mark around his right eye a colder stare and a thiner shape. The one with the red accesory in his hair is slightly shorter than the rest, half of his face painted in black while the other half remains untouched; and one of them towers over the rest, undoubtably stronger and bigger. The last of the bunch is the one Bluebell inevitably focuses on more, though; the man is practically a treat for any fairy, the metal covering up and down his body glinting beautifully under the sunlight.

Bluebell's wings flash a pink neon hue –an involuntary physical reaction–.

"I don't know" she whispers back to her friend, studying the humans curiously.

They have some sort of weapons, that far she can tell; and no matter how unbothered they look talking with each other and how much Bluebell longs to get closer to that strange, new shine, the fairy knows what's the sensible thing to do.

"We should go back and warn the rest of the colony" she suggests, finally snapping out of her thrance to focus on reality. Marygold nods in agreement, understanding passing between the two friends "Until we do".

Bluebell shoots the strangers one last lingering glance and the two fairies put their wings to the test.

The general consensus is that they shouldn't trust the intruders until they find out the reason for their visit to Arcan; and seing as they seem to be soldiers of some kind, bearing weapons, and therefore dangerous, the colony decides to set them into a trap. They have been living in the same forest generation after generation –they know every tree, every slope, every change of curse of the river–; so it's not a difficult task.

When the five humans are inmovilised, caught by surprise, the fairies don't waste time subduing them; leaving their hidings and quickly restraining them further in groups of ten or twelve per one. The men try to resist, snarling and using their strength, trying to get hold of their weapons; but the fairies are quick, and soon they're all but forcing their jaws open and pouring compliance nectar down their throat.

There are only two of them left to neutralise when the human with the cristals over his eyes stops them from pushing the nectar into his fellow friend; speaking up in a rushed panic that almost sounds like their mother tongue.

Someone holds a fist up, and the fairies over both humans reluctantly stop; shooting the reason of their interruption a wary, curious look.

"Please spear him!" The man of the hour speaks in a weird, yet understandable accent, his voice urgent and pleading. "While this substance won't cause us any major side efects, his body is different than ours. We can not be sure of how his inorganic liver will filter this nectar".

The colony stares at him in surprise –they hadn't think they would be able to communicate with each other this easy, if not, their approach might have been different–; somewhat understanding but still hesitant to leave one of the soldiers capacitated. They don't know to which extent this humans are dangerous or what their abbilities are. They don't know much about humans to start with.

The man with the faint yellow cristals notices this; and insists with urgency.

"He could die".

The fairies look at each other; and a chain of accepting nods is spread around.

"We will not feed him with the nectar, then, but he will have to give us his metal voluntarily" a male fairy answers, voice firm and clear, taking the lead, and the human nods in relief.

The man with the cristals is then forced to swallow the sweet substance too; soon following his fellow humans to a deep slumber. Only one of them remains awake; and the colony springs back to life, jumping into the loot with excited whispers and smiles. Everyone takes a piece of shining metal; some minor discusions happening in between.

Bluebell tilts her head, thinking on the human's words; observing the friend he had tried to protect, the one he claimed different, with quiet curiosity. He is incredibly tense while the fairies around him divest him of his protection; though it's nothing compared to how he reacts when a minute later two of them try to take the ones of his legs. He makes a panicked sound and hisses dangerously, feet kicking wildly around, trying to push them away. The colony doesn't like that; and they snarl back at his pale face, more fairies coming to help and further restraining him.

Eager hands travel through the man's legs, trying to find the places where they can take the lower protections apart; and Bluebell observes how the human's breathing speeds up, his wide eyes flicker around in pannick, his body trembles. It's not a normal reaction –they had already taken his upper body plates and he had remained mostly calm, after all–; and the young fairy ponders if there's something else to it, if this is one of the things that make this human different than the rest. The man with the yellow cristals had mentioned a "inorganic liver" –whatever that meant–; but what if there was something going on with his legs as well?

The human is whimpering, scared, and Bluebell takes a decision and flies forward, stopping the colony. They look at her in irritation; but she makes her point, expresing her worry of his legs being part of this specific human's alterations, of the man potentially feeling like they are trying to quite literally tear him appart.

The fairies take a minute to study the differences between the way the lower legs of the soldiers look; and reluctantly accept to leave this humans legs as they are. Bluebell breathes a tiny sigh of relief and carefully moves forward to kneel in front of the anxious man; heart speeding inside her chest while she tries to show him a warm, encouraging –yet hesitant– smile.

Echo is having a hard time trying to filter out the noises around him and keeping his panic attack under control without his headset on –now laying in the carefull hands of a female with yellow wings and golden face marks–. He had first being relieved at Tech's intervention, knowing he wouldn't be drugged and knocked unconscious, that he would be able to keep an eye on everyone and their captors; now, though, after the creatures had tried to take his prothesis off, at the threat of being left completely indefense, unable to move and protect himself, he wonders if it would have been better to sleep it off.

Echo tries not to think on Skako, on Tambor, on Anaxes; on the little snips he remembers of that nightmare and how they forced changes in his body he had never asked for. It's difficult; with the winged-humanoids carelessly tugging his armour apart, speaking amongst themselves with hushed whispers and proud smiles.

He's on the verge of screaming –or passing out– when a female arcanan zooms towards them; seizing a wrist and speaking to the rest of the creatures with a candid, firm voice. And then, miraculously, they stop all together.

Echo blinks, still panting, breaking through his panic attack; incredibly relieved now that the humanoids have collectively taken a step back and left him alone, now just in his blacks. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, focuses on finding strength and serenity; he works to ignore the jumble of strange words and sounds his brain is receiving, counts the beats of his speeding heart in silence. Only when he feels carefull fingertips grazing his right cheek, he flinches and opens his eyes.

She's so close to him that Echo has no other option than to look at her; to fall into the magic of her uniqueness and differences. Echo's amber eyes travel through the small pastel pink dots over her cheekbones; curving and following the shape of her eyes. He focuses on the two tiny face marks across the bridge of her nose; takes notice of how innocent and delicate the shape and soft features of her face makes her look like. His eyes make a small path on the clothes she is wearing –an arrangement of big tree leaves that Echo isn't sure how they're holding up together–; and inevitably study the mistery of her wings. They are pink too, though a much deeper colour than the marks on her face; iridiscent, the tone fading the closer it gets to her torso. The veins across them look almost golden.

Echo finishes with his study, amber eyes finally locking with her unusual, bubble gum pink ones; and finds the female humanoid shooting him a tender, hesitant smile. She speaks up –not at him, but at her company–; and the rest of the creatures around Echo step further away, choosing to turn elsewhere and ignore him for now.

The female –Echo guesses he would call her Pink for now–, still kneeling in front of him, cautiously –Echo wonders if she is afraid of them too– grabs his left hand; gently directing it down so that Echo's palm ends up resting on his metal thigh. She smiles and nods softly, giving an affectionate little tap on top of his hand; and Echo suddenly understands. Pink is trying to help him relax, to tell him that they're not going to press on further. That his legs are still there and they're not going to do anything else.

The winged girl stands up, choosing to give him some space as well; and Echo is left to watch how the –clan? Colony? Tribe?– of arcanans spring to action, initiating their way back to what Echo supposes is their home with their unconscious brothers dragged along and their beloved armours spread around like a proud price on the creatures hands. Echo has no other option than to follow.

In the early hours of the afternoon, the Batch starts waking up. Echo watches the relief that flickers through their faces upon finding themselves in one piece, tied up but unwounded; just without armour. He gives them a small sum up of what had happened while they were unconscious and the conclusions and hipothesis he has reached by observing their captors. The winged humanoids don't seem to have a lider per se, but take decisions in general, listening to everyone; and live in a pretty rudimentary way, their homes built up in the trees with basic structures. They don't look to be particularly strong or agressive; though they're surprisingly fast and agile, which is probably the reason why they had managed to capture them.

A male arcanan tries to talk with Tech, asuming he is able to understand him; and finally, after a bunch of mimics and frustrated sighs and muttering –on both parts–, the creature realises he needs his helmet for that and thankfully brings it to him. Tech then explains their reason to be in Arcan; an accident in need of repairs, nothing more, nothing less. Still, they're a bit warry about freeing them, not wanting to face any retaliation. Tech insists that there's no need for mutual hostility and that they'll be gone as soon as they repair their ship. At this, the humanoids finally give in and releases them, even offering to share some food in a peace gesture. They decline politely –just precaution, as they still have rations on the Marauder–, and part ways.

The next couple of hours the Batch is invested on getting the Marauder back to work. Well, at least Tech and Echo are, as Crosshair hadn't bothered to offer his help and Tech had shooed Hunter and Wrecker away after an almost mechanical disaster. The arcanans leave them to their own, happy to not prolongue unnecessary contact with the strangers. All but one.

"We're being watched" Hunter notices first, shoulders tensing.

His eyes flicker around, carefully scaning the forest around the Marauder. Crosshair hums quietly and mimicks him.

Tech replies unphased, tinkering with a panel on the side of the ship.

"Well, it is expected. We are invading their home, after all. I am positive it is just precaution".

Hunter doesn't look particularly alarmed, but he still doesn't like it. It's an uncomfortable feeling, knowing there's eyes on them. That they are being spied.

"How many?" He asks, knowing that his brother would have caught sight of the humanoid with his developed sight by now.

"Just one" the sniper smirks. "We could take her down".

Hunter shoots hom a warning glance.

"Let's keep things simple. Just keep an eye on her for now" he orders, and then they all fall back into a no longer peacefull –but expectant– silence.

Minutes pass by; and eventually, the spy abandons her spot, coming out of her hiding with nervous fidgeting but curious eyes, hovering just in the limits of the forest glade.

"Oh" Echo realises out loud. "She's the one that stopped them from taking my prothesis".

Hunter carefully watches her and Tech observes her too.

"I don't believe she has been sent to spy on us, now that I am able to read her facial expresion. I believe she is just curious about us".

Crosshair answers with a sarcastic drawl.

"Please tell me we're not planning on making bug friends".

Tech shrugs.

"It could be useful having an ally in case things turn wrong" he glances at Hunter, awaiting for his permision to invite her to join them. "Perhaps we should".

Hunter takes a few seconds to ponder the sugestion, and eventually nods. Tech turns to the arcanan and waves her in. The humanoid's face brightens with a smile; and still a tad hesitant, she slowly flies towards them, carefully landing on her toes. She too greets them with a small shy wave.

Crosshair looks at her up and down.

"At least she's cute, I guess" he comments, voice still dripping with sarcasm.

Tech flips his visor down, ready to use his translator and engage in a conversation with her. Her pink eyes shine with excitement, her face softens, her delicate iridiscent wings flutter. Echo can't help but think she's not simply "cute", but ethereally beautiful.

Bluebell stays for the rest of the afternoon. She flies from one batcher to the other, almost wanting to learn about absolutely everything; though she feels inevitably more curious about Echo. His legs are literally shining with the last rays of sunlight –just like his head ports– and Bluebell has never seen something prettier. Watching plants and the surface of the river shining is one thing, but watching that glimmer in this living, moving human... It's mesmerising.

When the man, Echo, is distracted helping Tech –the translator– with something, she can't help but push her hand forward and graze the metal leg with her fingertips. It is not as warm as she had thought it would be under the heat of the sun, but just as polished. Smooth; though there's a few indents on the plates here and there. Echo doesn't react, completely unbothered; so Bluebell takes it as an invitation and curiously and carefully explores the metal limb with her hands.

Eventually, someone notices it.

"Your girlfriend is getting randy, reg" Crosshair's voice calls out in amusement, bringing everyone out of their reverie.

Echo lifts his head up, confused by the comment, and then catches the hand on his thigh with the corner of his eyes.

"What the kriff?!" He jumps, quickly tugging his leg away, his reaction only natural in his surprise.

Bluebell gets jumpscared by his sudden movement and the tone of his voice; inmediately flying back and hiding behind Tech. She takes a peek at Echo with just one pink eye over his brothers' shoulder.

"Touching someone without them being aware of it is not appropiate human behaviour" the soldier tells him in her language, and Bluebell pays inmediate attention. "And Echo is not the most comfortable of us with physical touch".

He is calm, soothing, and Bluebell glances between them, understanding inmediately. Marygold often complained about how fairies used to explore things with their hands and noses first without thinking things through. Perhaps humans are like that too.

She whispers a sincere apology to Tech; and the man translates it to Echo.

"She asks you to forgive her. She didn't want to cause you discomfort and was merely curious".

The others chuckle, and Echo gives her a short nod that Bluebell interprets as a victory. Still, she tries to give him a bit of more space now, sticking to Tech's side and enganging in quiet small talk. By night she joins them for their basic dinner, sitting down in front of them in the grass and pulling out weird faces at the taste of an offered ration bar. She is not as disgusted with their energy drink, and makes a little pleased sound with the flick of her tongue.

Distracted as she is by the novelty of the human's food, Bluebell is unaware of the Batch's shock when her wings and marks start showing pink bioluminiscense with the arrival of the darkness. It's only when she looks up to see why they had collectively stayed in silence for so long when she realises they are all staring at her.

She tilts her head in confusion, glancing at Tech for an explanation. She listens to him attentively, and then smiles in understanding. Bluebell furrows her brow in concentration; purposedly intensifying and lowering the neon brightness of her wings for the humans to see.

"Fascinating..." Tech whispers, watching the show of colours enthraced, probably thinking on the biology of it all in his mind.

Echo can't help but silently agree. He, too, is hypnotized by the almost magical pink glow; her wings are full of... Energy, it looks like, sparkling and flowing in a peacefull way. This time, it's him who reaches a hand out and grazes one of the luminous wings distractedly.

A zip-zap of unexpected electricity makes Bluebell sigh a pleased sound, acompanied by a tiny, yet full-body shiver. The soldiers look up at her in confusion and surprise; and the arcanan blushes and looks down at her own hands.

"Are wings an erogenous area for your species? I imagine wings carry a larger amount of nerve endings" Tech is gentle, voice barely more than a quiet whisper.

Bluebell is somewhat embarassed to admit it; but nods and answers back with a shy and single "sensitive".

It's Echo's turn to offer an embarassed apology.

"I'm sorry" he says it slowly, slightly bowing his head to enphasise it.

Bluebell gives him a little forgiving smile and carefully squeezes his hand. Echo's palm feels warm. He's unused to the contact, and he wouldn't say he's exactly comfortable with it; but it's a way of bonding and getting to common ground with this strange –pretty– creature, and it's not unpleasant either.

After a few minutes of saying goodbyes –she has a colony to return to, after all, and it's way past midnight by now– Bluebell takes a hesitant glance at Echo. She ponders her thoughts for a second; but quickly gives in to what she wants and zooms in front of him, planting a sweet tiny kiss on his sharp right cheek.

She throws a last apologetic –yet smugly satisfied– smile at him before dissapearing through the trees.

The Batch cackles up, and Echo is left standing dumbfounded.

Four days later repairs are finally done. It would have taken but a blink for Tech to fix the Marauder if he had had the adecuate materials; but seing as they're in the middle of nowhere, in a forest, there's little to tinker with. He makes do with what they have, though; and the Batch is ready to go back to Coruscant.

Hunter announces it to the colony of arcanans. They part ways with cordial goodbyes; though the winged creatures seem to be more relieved than anything. Which they understand.

Bluebell manages to intercept them right when they're preparing to take off, walking up the ship's ramp. She flies towards Echo with something in her hands –the headseat she had aquired exchanging it for three Whiteglass flowers–; and very carefully places it on the confused human. Once Echo realises what it is, his face shifts; smoothing and softening and aiding her in the heartfelt gesture.

Bluebell then stands on her tip-toes to kiss him; impulsively, a short but passionate press of lips.

Echo's cheeks redden. Wrecker's booming laugh is heard on the background. Tech chastises him.

Bluebell whispers a few tender, fond words at the pretty pale human; showing him a last small smile before returning to the present, to reality, and flying away.

Everyone turns to look at Tech, waiting for an explanation. He gives them the answer.

"I believe the translation for that would be, quite literally, 'I like your shine'. Wether that refers to Echo's prothesis, the paleness of his skin, or a metaphorical shine of the essence of his person, that is unclear".

THE END.

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