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 Posted: Fri May 03, 2013 1:39 pm
He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but the faerie had left anyway, leaving on a whim when he knew Sharra wouldn’t be watching him. He had a feeling that his best friend was growing far too attached to him, all because of his natural ability…
Marosa had been a damn, naïve fool.
It was a few days’ journey to the feylands, one that the faerie couldn’t avoid if he didn’t want to see his father make a surprise visit to the school to ‘check up’ on his only kin. He loathed these visits, but had to make them in order to show his ‘progress’ due to the first fight he and his father had had, resulting in sending him off to the school in the first place.
And where had that gotten him? A runaround of the school with a bunch of ghouls and boils fawning over him, and his natural ability getting stronger. He grimaced, thinking. Marosa wouldn’t put it past his father to have calculated this exact dilemma, and he knew he’d have to ask the question he’d been fearing to ask his father, knowing it would be the wrong answer. But maybe, just maybe, Da’luagh would surprise him with an insightful answer.
Unfortunately, faeries never really gave straight answers, always dancing around the answer and leaving one to figure it out on their own. Marosa would be left to his own wits.
Stepping on the familiar mossy path, Marosa stared off into the forest, his face stoic. He had learned long ago not to show emotions in the feylands, mainly due to his father being able to read people. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but somehow his father knew.
The path to his home weaved and winded through the forest, and he was able to navigate it without much thought. Growing up here had its benefits, and the path was ingrained into his very core, making it easy for him to walk across the bridge, astride the many rivers and up the path straight up to the castle where his father resided.
The castle spiraled up into the sky, open and foreboding, sitting in the middle of many rivers, and a village sat on a lower ring around the castle, houses sitting next to each other almost as if they were clustered together against the castle , huddled for safety and fear for what was inside the castle.
The faerie felt even more grim.
The servants were scarce, which didn’t surprise him. Many of them disappeared over time, some able to get away from his father, while others… weren’t so lucky. He did what he could for them back when he was able, but since he’d left, he had no idea how they had fared.
And then, there was his father, sitting in the chair that was the throne of the castle, a rather bored expression spread across his face. He was holding up his head with a hand resting on one of the arms, and his long silver hair splayed out over his form in perfect tandem. A silver crown, long ago faded from gold, sat atop Da’luagh’s crown, making him look stunningly regal. White robes billowed out from his form as he rose, and his hand extended as Marosa approached, a smile now playing upon his lips.
“My child,” He spoke, drawing the faerie boy into his arms, fingers pressing against the back of Marosa’s head as he placed a kiss upon his forehead. “Oi presume the trip fared well for ye?”
“Aye.” Marosa sighed as he let Da’luagh embrace him, attempting not to cringe at the other’s tender affections. Usually that meant he had something in store, and wanted to attempt to get him to do something… but the faerie boy could think of nothing that Da’luagh might be planning.
“Tell me of your school,” Da’luagh coaxed, reaching up to massage Marosa’s temples with a gentle caress, letting out a hiss as he took a breath to speak. “Silence, oi will find out for me self.” He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, Marosa keeping watch though finding it hard to keep his eyes open.
It wasn’t long before he began to feel tired, jerking only when Da’luagh snapped him to attention, fingers digging into his shoulders in a rather painful way. “This Sharra…” He hissed, rage splayed in an almost beautiful way on his face. Marosa didn’t react, his own expression stoic as he watched Da’luagh let out his anger through him. He was certain there would be bruises on his shoulders later.
“He’s my best friend,” Marosa murmured, fighting a yawn. Why did he always grow so tired when he went to see his father? It was rather disconcerting. He noticed one of the servants out of the corner of his eyes, though didn’t look straight at her to call her out. Da’luagh would keep his attention on him, and the servant watching wouldn’t be punished.
“Forget about him,” Da’luagh ordered, fingers digging in deeper yet. The tiredness Marosa felt began to ebb away, and the faerie found himself in a place between asleep and awake, unable to breathe for just a moment.
And then he was able to breathe again, the moment passing. There were fragments of a boil in green, though that was the extent of his memory. His father seemed much calmer now, conversing with him at length, though Marosa remembered barely any of it.
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Posted: Mon May 06, 2013 12:56 am
The faerie stared at the ceiling of his dorm room, wincing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When had he gotten back to the school? He hadn’t remembered travelling back. Was it all a dream?
Marosa winced as he sat up, stripping his shirt and glancing in the mirror at his form. His shoulders hurt, and he touched one gingerly as he made a face, hissing in slight pain. The event had been real, but he hadn’t remembered much of the visit.
That thought disturbed him.
What disturbed him more was the figure in green, scattered across his thoughts. He was unable to put a name to the memory, but maybe with enough time, he could remember…
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