worthallthis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
worthallthis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pennysheets2023-06-08 12:30 am
worthallthis) wrote in pennysheets2023-06-08 12:30 am
Entry tags:
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.
s'all good. I am here for it even if you take months
"I don't fit in," he counters. "I can be overlooked, if I am where I am supposed to be and doing what I am supposed to be doing, but I do not fit in. I would not be much help there."
He scans the woods. They dogs baying is further away now. He picks up the pace a little, not wanting to lose sound of them entirely. "If I can find fiction, I read that first, but I will read anything. How do you paint underwater? Do you have dry places?"
<33
Albeit the more frustrating of them, as well.
He matches Soldier's pace when he picks it up; Steve would much rather just be left behind, but - no. That would be suspicious, and displease Lord Pierce, and he isn't going to let any of that come down on Soldier's head. It's why they're here with those boar spears in the first place.
He does make a mental note - fiction is preferred - before he grins a little. "We do have dry places, although they're few and far between. But we also have ways of painting underwater. You just need the right paint. And only merrows get to see it."
He tilts his head, considering, then grins. "The truth is, there's no substitute for the way paints work on dry land, though. Mortals have come up with some truly amazing inventions. And they're so creative."
He can't very well wax eloquent about how impressed he is with human art anywhere, else, so Soldier might be getting a bit more enthusiasm than he bargained for.
no subject
"Are they?" he asks, more out of bafflement than out of real curiosity. He knows a few more of them in this realm, but mostly the others are either afraid all the time, enchanted, or very boring and shallow. And he certainly isn't creative. Unless you count ways to kill people.
no subject
Killing people can still involve creativity, he'd agree if asked.
"Most fae are..." He tilts his head, as though he's maybe trying to come up with a diplomatic way to say what he's thinking, "much better at taking than giving. They prefer consuming over creating. Not all of us, I'd like to think. But many. Especially those with no reason to be otherwise."
Those with power, he maybe means.
no subject
Soldier does allow himself a little snort at the idea of fae being good takers. He's not wrong, after all. Soldier has seen it. He's lived it. He might not remember where he's from or what life was like before, but he knows it was different, and that it was taken from him. He can't do anything about it, so he has long ago stopped being angry, but he still knows it.
"And you aren't one of those," he surmises. "Because no one let you take anything except what you were given."
no subject
Even if he would like to take this Soldier, and take him far away from here. He would mean it as liberation. Even if there's a part of him that might want to keep him. That isn't right. He wouldn't do it.
"I don't know how long we can live like this. We already have such a small part of the world."
Most of the fae ignore it, focus on the power they hold in the places they hold it. But while the world is very big, the parts of it they hold feel like they're getting smaller.
Even the parts that humans haven't encroached on as much, like the deeps. Not yet. But it's coming. "And humans are not only creative - they're curious."
no subject
And he doesn't want any pattern he might or might not have seen to get this fae in trouble.
"We should go find the hunt," he says after that pause.
LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)
But they are in danger of falling too far behind, and that isn't really acceptable, no matter how little interest he has in any of this. He's here because Soldier's here, and Soldier is bound by far more rules than Steve. He won't risk the man's safety or what little freedom (or even the sick mockery of it) he has by being selfish.
Not now.
"All right," he agrees, if reluctantly, and picks up the pace. "I don't suppose Lord Pierce is the kind to stay out partying all night, after they catch their boars?"
Re: LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)
He doesn't know for sure when he might see this merrow again. And he finds this has been-- novel. And not as threatening as he'd been certain it would be, not as many probing questions or even any attempts at enchantment or rattling the spells already on him.
"Which family are you staying with," he asks. Because he's been in this part of faerie for both of these events, so it's unlikely he's speeding back to the coast to the merrow territories every night. Maybe he can find a way to... visit. Or at least finagle to be in the same place at the same time again.
no subject
"The Eriskas," he says, because Soldier is right - the sea is too far to return to on a regular basis, so he's managed to forge enough connections with a local family that they've agreed to give him temporary lodgings. (In truth, they don't know he's a merrow, but then, no one expects a male merrow to look like him.) It's an old, powerful family - though of course not as powerful as Pierce - with aging matriarchs and more cousins twice and thrice removed than anyone cares to count, which had made it much easier to find a place there. There's even a branch of the family with old Nixie blood.
"But I can come and go as I please," he adds. He'll also happily work with Soldier's schedule, such as it is, because it seems, "You'd be willing to see me again?"
no subject
He glances sidelong at the merrow again. "I have a choice?" he asks, voice pointedly mild. Yes, this fae has been... weird. In a good way. But he can never entirely trust that. Fae don't treat humans like they have a choice, pretty much ever.