pennysheets | Swept into Faerie for @punched

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.

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"They are," Steve assures him. Then: "You are." Because Soldier is a mortal, so Steve fully believes he's got that capacity for creativity, too. Even if he seems very... trapped within the rigid standards Lord Pierce clearly demands of his underlings. Steve sighs just thinking about it, trying to imagine all the interesting, creative things Soldier could do, if given free rein. Mostly his mind drifts back to dancing - and then maybe fighting, given then givens.

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.

Dancing doesn't count. (Dancing definitely counts.)

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."

"I try not to be," Steve says, softly. It's true. He has seen how the Fae are. He doesn't like it. He doesn't think it's innate, believes it's simply how they've taught themselves to be, but in case it isn't. Or in case he isn't as immune to it as he'd like to think. He still makes a conscious effort.

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."

Soldier is silent a moment. He knows at least some of the things his lord has talked about, and some of the things he uses Soldier for, but the pattern is-- still uncertain. And he, unlike whatever humans this fae is talking about, is not curious. He tries very hard not to be.

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.

Steve senses there's reticence, there; he isn't sure exactly why, but he can think of a few possibly reasons. None of which he likes.

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?"

"Not partying," Soldier says after a moment of weighing how to answer, as they push through the forest growth. "But talking to people. Maybe. He will expect me to keep watch over him directly then, though." So he won't be able to talk to Steve then.

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.

Steve nods, his mouth forming an unhappy line for a moment, but it's not as if he wasn't being overly optimistic, hoping Pierce might let his Soldier stay on a slackened leash. He isn't here for fun, he knows. Much though that knowledge makes his blood boil.

"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?"

Edited 2025-11-08 20:07 (UTC)

Eriskas. Hmm. Not a family Pierce actually has a lot of connections with, that he knows about, actually. They're probably closer to rivals than allies, but he hasn't been sent to kill any of them either so not close rivals.

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.

Swept into Faerie for @punched_hitler

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LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)

Re: LITERALLY three months late (with starbucks)

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