This story was written on a whim. A friend of mine was a bit down and I told him I would
write for him. And so I did. We had an unfinished storyline, so I chose that as my topic.
I think he rather enjoyed the story.
He didn't say so, but it did turn into a rather good role playing session.
Into the Fire
The dying rays of the sun slide over the features of the restless fae, gilding her with a golden light. A frown etches into her brow, blue-green eyes darkening to a midnight. So restless was she. She had not slept at all, despite the need for it. Impatient fingers toss back raven hair over slim shoulders as she turns to make another circuit. There was no way this was going to work. She could not take him to their lair. Her wings snap with her anger and frustration. Yet she had told him . . . fool that she was. What had possessed her? Shaking her head, she paces further away from the hasty camp they had set up before settling for rest. And rest she made sure he did, though she was unsure whether he noticed her meddling. She had needed to think and she couldn't do that while he was awake. No, he - distracted her, sent her thoughts winging where they shouldn't go. She groans silently, tugging absently at her traveling clothing - loose black pants and a loose silk shirt that left her wings free due to the small straps.
"Get your head on straight, woman . . . . " She mutters to herself as she paces toward the treeline, further still from the camp. Her mouth takes on a determined slant as she stops to look at the moon. Much as she wished for help, she cannot have him go with her - into the fire as it were. Just as he feared for her safety, so she feared for his. And with a depth of feeling she hadn't known she was capable of. But that was of no consequence. There was no use to thinking along those lines. Not now. She doubted highly she would walk out of this - hence her determination not to allow him to go. Her lips curve up as she turned back toward the camp to gather her things. Oh, he would be furious. And hurt. Deeply. She closes her as she sinks to the ground, contemplating this last thought.
"Lord and Lady . . . this is a muddle." And it was. He would accept it, but it would wound him. Though perhaps she placed too much importance on herself. No, well, perhaps. She knew that he wished only for her safety. And given that - She gnaws her lower lip, recalling that day in the tavern. Burying her face in her hands, she shudders. She didn't deserve that. God and Goddess, she wasn't sure she deserved friends. What a muddle she was. A complete and utter fool - and with no time to air dream about what she cannot have. Pulling herself to her feet, this fae tiptoes through the camp, picking up her things and the - er - other body. That is magicked away, leaving her with just her bag. She turns, looking down upon the remaning sleeping form. A look of deep sadness slips over the delicate features of her face.
"I hope one day you will forgive me . . . . " Her voice is soft. She slides her fingers over his cheek, then sighs, shaking her head. No more air dreaming, girl. There's too much to be done. And so she is gone, her wings taking her into the night and directly into the heart of the fire . . . .
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Moon's Gleam / Endgame / Untitled / A Soul Tears
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