worthallthis (
worthallthis) wrote in
pennysheets2023-06-08 12:30 am
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Swept into Faerie for @punched_hitler
The realms of faerie love their frivolity. Great gatherings with music and food and dancing and chatter. Soldier doesn't know which great fae lord this is; it isn't like it matters. He's not here to kill any of them. He's here to prevent anything from happening to his own master, so he keeps his attention on him, as is only appropriate.
Though he does find his gaze drifting from his master to the swirl of movement and color from the ballroom floor, from time to time. There are flashes of leaves and talons and raven wings among the dancers, in cloths and hair and eyes, but the rhythm is engaging, the melody is pleasant, and he knows the steps. His feet itch to move, even though he knows he could probably never keep up with the true faerie dancers, and might lose what little he has left of himself if he tries. He still kind of wants to.
He knows he mustn't ask. But apparently his master can tell what he wants, because he finds the cool eyes on him when his gaze wanders back where it belongs. He straightens up, guilty and afraid, but the old fae just smiles indulgently.
"Go on, pet," he says. "I am safe enough for now."
Soldier goes. He doesn't have the same grace as most of the people on that dance floor, as heavy as he is with the metal growing out of his bones, but he has some value as a dancer still. He spins the real fae around to the beat as it picks up in response to the newcomer, strange steps from another life that they manage to pick up with laughter and chattering amongst themselves-- not for him, never for him, but still pleasant to have around him-- and feels almost happy enough to smile. It won't last, it never lasts, and he might come away from the dance with new fangs hooked into his mind, but he doesn't care. He wants to dance.
Though he does find his gaze drifting from his master to the swirl of movement and color from the ballroom floor, from time to time. There are flashes of leaves and talons and raven wings among the dancers, in cloths and hair and eyes, but the rhythm is engaging, the melody is pleasant, and he knows the steps. His feet itch to move, even though he knows he could probably never keep up with the true faerie dancers, and might lose what little he has left of himself if he tries. He still kind of wants to.
He knows he mustn't ask. But apparently his master can tell what he wants, because he finds the cool eyes on him when his gaze wanders back where it belongs. He straightens up, guilty and afraid, but the old fae just smiles indulgently.
"Go on, pet," he says. "I am safe enough for now."
Soldier goes. He doesn't have the same grace as most of the people on that dance floor, as heavy as he is with the metal growing out of his bones, but he has some value as a dancer still. He spins the real fae around to the beat as it picks up in response to the newcomer, strange steps from another life that they manage to pick up with laughter and chattering amongst themselves-- not for him, never for him, but still pleasant to have around him-- and feels almost happy enough to smile. It won't last, it never lasts, and he might come away from the dance with new fangs hooked into his mind, but he doesn't care. He wants to dance.

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But it means he has an excellent view when the... he's not fae, is he, that man who steps out onto the floor picks up the dance in such an intriguing way that Steve finds himself putting his drink aside and drifting closer. He watches for a moment more before making an impulsive decision - well, he's never been one to pass up a potentially once-in-a-lifetime opportunity - and slipping into the crowd himself, weaving between them fluidly like water despite his size until he's close enough to cut in on the next dance.
"I don't know this one," he says, because he doesn't quite know the steps the other is taking, but he's a quick learner. "You'll have to lead."
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So he offers his hands, one flesh and one elaborately tooled faerie metal. He doesn't speak as is only proper, but he can guide with hands and feet alone. He's done it before, though he can't remember more than echoes now.
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He tells himself to just dance for now, but it's kind of hard to ignore all the questions that are filling him up, threatening to spill out. He's never been all that great at holding his tongue. Or with standing on formality. "Have you been here long?"
This realm, he means, instead of the human one. He doesn't think the man is quiet because he's overwhelmed, but that's certainly a possibility.
There's just the barest hint of an accent under his words, something close to an Irish brogue.
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"I don't know," he finally answers, voice softer than it looks like a man his size should have. "A long time. I don't really remember anywhere else." This is where he belongs. He's been told so.
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"Well, that eliminates the next question," he says, affecting a lighter tone again, because he was going to ask about the arm. Where he'd lost it. Which is probably rude to ask, anyway, but Steve's curious.
"You're here with someone?" he asks, instead, though it's more of an assumption than a real question. He doesn't expect that answer to be in the negative.
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He doesn't sound awed so much as... maybe a little tired. And a little angry, if his companion is listening carefully. "How does he treat you?"
There's a part of him that wonders if he'll get an honest answer. Especially here. But again, he can't keep himself from asking.
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"Like a soldier," he comes up with after a couple more turns. "Like his Soldier. That's what I'm for. I protect him." And kill who he says to kill. But he knows that should always remain unspoken. Most of faerie understands that without it having to be said, and those who don't, would not react well to hearing it spoken.
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And why.
His eyes flash back in the direction of Pierce, again, before returning to the face before him. "And did he recruit you for this task willingly, or do you - not remember that, too?" he asks, as carefully as he can.
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He sighs quietly, offering his dance partner a rueful smile. "You just wanted a dance," he says, almost apologetic. "And you ended up with me as a partner."
Well, to be fair - Steve had wanted to dance with this man. And he doesn't regret it. "I think we might be a little alike, though. Neither of us really belongs here."
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He might not. But he might; the Irish fae mostly keep to themselves, but as the human world shrank and times changed, so too did the fae realms, in much the same way.
Of course, if anyone here - this human included - has ever heard of merrows before, they'd know a merrow is always female.
(Well. Almost always. With incredibly rare exception.)
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hunt them down on commandknow who he's dealing with and not offend when in public settings. So he nods. "Called muruch in the Irish. Water spirits. Capable of minor shapeshifting in a similar fashion to a selkie." And yeah, mostly female, though that seems rude to point out, even if he is leading the guy like a dame around the dance floor.no subject
That part is also pretty well-known. Merrow males are not only vanishingly uncommon, but the few that do exist are not supposed to look like the one Soldier is currently waltzing around the floor.
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Still: "You don't seem hideous to me."
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He didn't always look like this, either.
"But thanks," he adds, and now there's a hint of self-consciousness under it, too. "That's a really nice thing to say. A dance partner who's talented and kind, I'm definitely glad I came to this party."
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"I don't think saying you don't seem hideous really counts as nice," he has to point out. "That's just common decency." There's a hint of Brooklyn to that, some long-dormant accent attempting to reassert itself.
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But not an issue with his dance partner. The soft laughter dissolves into a smile, then, because he hears the hint of an accent and while he doesn't quite recognize it, it feels like he's getting to see more of the man than others might, and he likes that. It proves there's a personality under the professionalism. "You seem like a very decent sort of man," he adds. "I appreciate that. But my point was, I guess, I don't fit what they expect, so I don't always find things very... welcoming."
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The song ends, and Pierce is beckoning him. Possibly the song ended because Pierce was beckoning him. Soldier steps back from the merrow. "I need to go."
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His eyes flick over to Pierce as well, then back to the dark-haired man. "You don't seem like someone who gets much free time," he says, and he sounds unhappy about it.
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A pause, then he says, quickly and quietly, "There is a hunt at the Hill Holding on the next full moon. My master will be there." Which means his Soldier will also be there. If this merrow really wants to see him again, that's the next easy way to do it that doesn't include following him home. Soldier is not particularly hopeful that anything will come of it, but he wants that unhappy expression to go away.
skipped ahead a little, but please feel free to fill in
The unhappy expression is definitely gone. "Maybe I'll find myself there, then. You never know."
The truth is, he will absolutely find himself there. As usual, he keeps to himself, mostly, lingering on the periphery dressed in clothes that are so deep blue they're almost black. But he also keeps his bright eyes out for Lord Pierce's entourage; particularly, one figure in said entourage. He doesn't want to approach too eagerly, though, given that it's not Pierce's attention he wants. So he watches, willing himself to wait for a good moment, and maybe tries to catch the Soldier's eye, if he can.
exactly as planned :3
Mostly his feelings about the man are of confusion. Nothing he'd done made sense, for a true fae interacting with a human. It gnaws at him, but it's not unpleasant to think about, either. Still, he fully expects to be forgotten by the fae, because humans are only noteworthy to the fae as tools or toys and Soldier is already owned thoroughly by a powerful Lord. Thus, he is definitely not looking for him among the gathering moonlit crowd at the hunt.
All of which means Soldier is surprised when he does see him lingering among the courtiers. The merrow from before is looking at him. Looking for him. His gaze hits Steve's, but it's brief, sliding away again after the moment of connection, and his expression doesn't change for more than that flicker of surprise, but it's not an unpleasant surprise. He can't leave his master's side yet, but there will be talks after the hunt itself when a Soldier would unwelcome, and he'll be free to slip away then.
Or Steve can try to join the actual hunting party. That could be fun, too.
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But what if he can't? They certainly can't have a meaningful conversation on said hunt, but on the other hand, it will mean he didn't come here only to leave with nothing. At least he'll have gotten a little time with the man, even if not the kind of time he'd like.
He'd better join the damn hunt. And try not to stick out too much. Oh, well - if he does, it'll at least give the rest of them something to laugh over later, and maybe it'll give him a better chance at a little more time with the human.
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well this sure did get accidentally archived
<33 and then it took me half a month to respond ;;
we're just a coupla slow people :D it's fine
lolol SUPER slow in this case /o\
s'all good. I am here for it even if you take months
<33
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LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)
Re: LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)
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