|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 07, 2015 4:58 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 9:20 am
Tiny of the Tigers He didn't fight it, of course.
After all, how could he? That man with eyes like an emerald forest, plae face framed by a lustrous curtain of obsidian black hair. The man who's ears were tipped towards the heavens ever so slightly, pierced with droplets of pure midnight. Who, despite popular belief, was tall and strong and not at all petite, made of elegant lines and with a gaze to cut diamonds.
Kyle knew he didn't stand a chance when that man's hard eyes fell upon him and sparked with something, something dark and desiring. After all, Kyle was nothing but cozy library alcoves and fleecy autumn sweaters and piles of books a mile high, cups of warm milk on chilly nights and fresh lemonade on the warm ones, sighs born from romantic tales of adventure and a room dedicated to myths of the olden days.
This was not love, he thought decidedly, as he placed his hand on the one offered in front of him. It hoisted him up into sturdy arms and the smell of pine and silky robes made of the finest cloth. A shimmering rift tore it's way through the reality that was his room, offering him a view into a separate world, filled with color.
After all, Kyle mused, this was a man of the Fae.
Mrs Ursus Summer comes, and summer goes; Autumn passes, its Dark winds blow; Winter stalks, and bites with fright; Spring returns, and brings the Light .
The ditty of a nursery rhyme had been passed on through the countless generations of Fae; young Faelings were taught the song as a method of recognizing when the seasons changed, and why their wings changed with them.
From yellow, to emerald, to crimson, then white; most fairies' butterfly wings underwent similar changes, but most assumed that it was simply part of their biological nature. However, this was not true.
Just as the common Fae influenced the world of humans, playing tricks, and helping flowers bloom, there was an even smaller denomination of Fae referred to as Light, and Dark.
Light and Dark fairies are really two sides of the same coin; they incur the changes their distant, oblivious cousins undergo, and are much more solemn in their nature. Light dominates over Spring, and Summer; Dark over Autumn, and Winter. Still, there are times they overlap; when rain clouds come, then form vibrant rainbows, that is the work of both.
These Fae are never noticed, nor do they expect to be; however, they do not deny that they'd both like to interact with their cousins. Perhaps at an annual ball, when their powers overlap once more...
V_Sinclair Midnight Deal
She hid behind the trees, watching without a sound. Her cloak hid all movements from wary eyes, as she waited for the right moment.
Before her, light and air played between the drifting figures, immersed as they were in their make-belief game. They looked like children, but she knew that they were far older, and far, far more terrific than anything she could do.
The night breathed in... and froze. The faeries (for that was what they were) fell back; the lights dimmed in the brilliance of the new arrival. She was a stark painting in the sparse moonlight; wildflowers bloomed and died in her hair, vines and thorns alike grew upon her shoulders and wrapped around her arms, the moss on skin and dress alike glowed in shades that had no name.
Nevertheless, the wait was over.
WHO GOES THERE.
The question, projected directly into her mind, had her wincing. She quickly stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," she curtseyed, careful not to look upon the awesome visage before her. She waited.
YOU MAY SPEAK.
The witch smiled.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 6:31 pm
The TeaspoonsBeneath the Willow's Roots She stands on unsteady feet. The ground feels unfamiliar after so long flying above it, but this will fade, and once again she will walk, with the confidence and grace of a dancer. But for now she will be content to stumble like a newborn fawn while she rests her tired wings.They flutter behind her, the colour of lavender patterned with white intricate swirls. She is called Róisín, the little rose. She pushes the white hair that tumbles over violet eyes onto her back and breathes a content sigh. She is home. Beneath the roots of a willow tree is her hollow. It's not extravagant but it is comfortable and safe and it is home. Her soft feet pitter patter to a soft bed of moss and leaves. Perhaps tonight she will dream, but it is more likely that she will have a nightmare. The nightmare never changes. A chill runs through her spine as she searches desperately with tiny hands for something, no, someone. "Mother!" The shrillness of her own scream scares her, but this is not the first scream, the stabbing sensation in her throat tells her so. Warm tears stream down her face while the blood in her veins runs cold. Someone else screams, screams of protest and of fear. Her mother is being dragged by two guards, blank masks obscuring their face. Róisín does not know what crime her mother committed but one of the masked guards speaks to her. "Dry your tears child, and be thankful for the Queen's mercy. You might have been punished along with her." Róisín wakes the next morning and panic leaks into real life, for a moment. But she is used to this by now. She doesn't know what crime her mother committed and she might never know. She heard whispers that she killed one of her own kin, the most severe of crimes, but fae tongues spin lies as easy as a spider spins a web. For now she will find refuge in her hollow, her private sanctuary beneath the willow tree. One day she may know for certain the nature of her mother's crime but it is not this day. This day is for the dawn's light to scatter through the cracks of roots. This day is for the birdsong. And this day is for Róisín to dance among the morning's dew, through long blades of grass. Her feet are steady once again. Roxa NexessSummer and Flowers and Tea! Oh My! Over in the garden bed, surrounded by rose bushes, sunflower stalks, and clover patches, a small child, about the age of 7, approaches. She sets up a picnic for two, however, something is slightly off. While her cup is of an average for a child, she also has a mini tea cup, enough to fit one drop of rose tea. She sets down the tiny cup on the tiny plate for her tiny friend. With a whistle, or at least the attempt at one, a small pink pixie flies out of her flower with a smile. "Tea time!" chimes the small child. "Tea time!" chirps the pixie. With crumpets and crumbs and the sun shining brightly on this fine summer day, the two chat about the days of the season, laughing until the cold night air blows, where they part their ways for today, until tomorrow where it all happens again.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2015 9:35 am
Airayasha
Moonlight Dance Silence is golden on this cloudless night. The moon is full and bright shining its gentle glow on a lone lake. If you remain quiet and unseen, perhaps you’ll get the chance to see the ethereal dance of the Fae. Do you hear it, the soft music? Hush now and listen closer. The wind whispers softly through the flowers and trees making a soft melody. The first of the Fae appears from the grass her wings an emerald green. You see her jump with the grace of an elk and lands in a curtsy on the water’s surface. Soon another joins, bright purple in color, leaps from the tulips in another curtsy on the far side. The two Fae glances at each other before moving across the water towards each other in short graceful leaps. They both meet in the middle before curtsying to each other. A single beat passes before they both pirouette and spin in a circle. They end the spin each with the opposite leg in the air and touch the opposite hands to each other. They push away and flutter into the air as four more Fae appear. The new four rush with ease onto the water and link their arms. They move in sync going from Assemblé to Glissade and releasing arms and doing four perfectly timed Grand Jeté. All the Fae dancers moved into a circle as the final Fae, the Étoile, appears up from the water in glorious aquamarine. She begins her dance gliding across the surface barely making a ripple. The other Fae copy her steps in the circle a flourish of pink, purple, green, blue, red, and yellow. The music has risen in volume like thousands of string instruments playing. Suddenly the music slows to a stop as the entire Fae drop into a gradually Fondu with it. A lone violin plays after sometime as the Étoile rises. She starts off slow, gliding around the circle. As she goes, she touches each Fae adding more instruments to the song. The Fae once again move as one as they reach the climax. The water follows each step with a ripple creating a beautiful show of a flower on the surface. The finale is reached with an explosion of color as all the dancing Fae soar into the sky and perform pirouettes. Each Fae except for the aquamarine Étoile land in a circle in perfect fifth position, feet close together an arms held high in an arch, while the lone Fae lands in the middle one leg with the one leg extended behind her and both arms risen above her. There is a slight silence before the roar of applause as all the Fae around clap but alas there is one clap louder than the rest. A lone human appears from their hiding spot. With tiny gasps, the entire Fae disappear once again, leaving behind only one last ripple of water and a single flower petal.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|