Posts tagged ‘Fey’

a long farewell…

Dagny cried out as teeth sank into her thighs and wrists. Her body arched, reflexively pulling away from the mairs as they drank her blood. A part of her wanted to struggle – to fight back the mairs that fed from her. However, it was bound in dark chains. That darkness spread out from her soul and filled her with pleasure at what was being done to her.

Darkness closed in at the edge of her vision for a moment. Her heartbeat faltered, missing a beat. She couldn’t breathe! A shiver of fear rippled through her soul. Then, something hot and salty touched her lips. It trickled down her throat.

The darkness that bound her soul grew, forcing the small voice that was crying out at the mairs to stop even further down. Her heart beat slowly – gently – and her breathing evened out once more. A faint smile touched her lips.

As Dagny’s eyes fluttered open, she saw Captain Hummel. Her master held him prone, one hand over Dagny’s face. It was his blood she had drunk. The Lily Captain was pale and trembling. Tears stood in his eyes, which were wide with fear. Dagny smiled at him. “Why so scared, Captain Hummel?” she whispered. “You’ve made me so strong.”

Captain Hummel blinked at her, as if her words made no sense to him. “They – they’re making you like them, Dagny,” he whispered. “H-how can you not see that?” He whimpered as her master dragged him back towards the tangle of branches that was his cell. “What are they? What were they before?”

“Ah,” her master said, “that’s something you will never learn, little captain.”

As Dagny watched them lock him back in the cage, she felt as if she were missing something. Every time they fed her, she felt this way. She simply couldn’t understand why. She was getting stronger every day. Wasn’t she?

No More In Fear – Showing Character History

Eisa stepped around the corner of the building and looked around. Her gaze fell on a crumpled form on the ground. She took a step forward and then froze. What she took for a crumpled form – someone in need of help – was a mair stooping to drink the blood of a small child.

For a moment, Eisa felt as small and helpless as the child. She was back in her own village, cringing in fear from the horrible monsters that threatened to kill herself – her sister! “No,” she screamed, summoning her staff.

Eisa slammed her staff into the ground. Tiny shards of metal flew upward and then into the unsuspecting mair’s back. It cried out in pain and released the child. Then it was on its feet, facing her.

It launched at her and everything seemed to slow down. Eisa sidestepped and swung her staff upwards, bringing more metal shards out of the earth with it. The mair let out a strangled cry and then dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.

For a moment, Eisa stood, panting and blinking. Then someone touched her sleeve and she spun, bringing up her staff again.

“Eisa!”

another day in black and red

He’d joked with Rune a few times that death, betrayal and dismemberment were part of their normal day. However, it was black humor because there was a seed of truth in it.

Leif scowled at the crumpled heap in the center of the room. At one point, not very long ago, that heap had been a person. She’d lived and breathed and gone about her day, baking bread for her children and washing their clothing. Now, she was nothing more than a crumpled heap dressed in a blood stained black gown.

“Where are the children?” he asked, his voice soft and thick with emotion.

Martin sighed softly. “We found the older daughter out back,” he murmured. “Elias is looking over her, but he doesn’t think she’ll survive her injuries. The mair… took a lot of blood.”

Leif nodded. “The other child?” he asked, looking over at his adjutant. “The neighbors said she had a son, too.”

Martin opened his mouth to speak. Then they heard an almost animal roar of rage. This was followed by a cry of pain. “Eisa,” Leif gasped. He ran out, through the back door. He never could have guessed what he’d see.

**

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born from the seed of disguise

Kira didn’t like the idea of being there. However, in order for them to fall for his disguise, he needed to play the part of a buyer. He pretended to look over the living merchandise.

Anyone who looked at him would think he was appraising them – deciding which, if any, he intended to purchase. Inwardly, he was disgusted. Slavery was legal in the Borderlands, but the conditions these poor souls were kept in was deplorable.

“Jus’ lookin’ or are ya gonna buy?”

He looked over at the speaker. It was a bat fey. They weren’t known for their forgiving natures. What they were known for was being able to spot a liar. If anyone would see through his disguise, it was this fey. That left Kira with one option.

He turned back to the people who were chained to the posts around the clearing. “That one,” he said, pointing at a smallish figure. It was impossible to tell from that angle if he’d selected a man or woman, but Kira didn’t care. He looked at the fey again and arched an eyebrow. “How much?”

do you believe in the day that you were born?

Mark watched with wide-eyed disbelief as the woman relaxed in the arms of the mairs. Not only was she letting them drink her blood, she seemed to enjoy it. He shook his head in wonder.

“How old are you?”

He startled at the voice, jostling the chains that bound his wrists. He glanced in the direction of the voice. A mair had settled down beside him. Mark swallowed thickly. “S-seventeen,” he said.

“That’s decades, correct,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

Mark nodded.

“You’re people believe that the Fates guide your path in life,” she said, glancing over at Mark’s former comrade in arms. “Do you believe that, on the day of your birth, this was the life the Fates wanted for you?”

Mark shook his head. “I can’t think that they would,” he murmured. He blinked in surprise when the chains fell away. He looked over at the mair with a similar expression to the one he’d been giving his comrade moments ago.

She smiled. “They’re distracted,” she whispered. “Run while you can and give my love to my son.”

Mark blinked. “Your son?”

“Go,” she pressed. Mark nodded once. This might be the only chance he had to win free of the traitors to Larisa.

how to be dead

Loki held perfectly still. He held his breath and tried to relax every other muscle in his body. He was terrified, but he knew holding still was the key – holding still, but not tensing. Dead bodies weren’t tense. They were loose, at least until rigor mortis set in.

He could hear the fey moving over him. It was sniffing the air. It had his scent. “Hmm,” it mused. “Odd, that they’d leave someone’s body here.”

“Why?” So there was another.

Loki needed air. He hoped the other fey had the nearer one distracted. He slowly breathed in through his nose.

Above him, the fey answered his companion. “Normally, they’re more interested in taking their dead with them than this,” he said.

He heard more sniffing. “It’s dead,” the second fey said. “We don’t eat dead things. Just leave it.”

Loki felt them move away from him. He eased one eye and then the other open. He sighed softly and sat up. “Guess I play dead fairly well,” he murmured.

His brows furrowed. His curse had something to do with that. He’d be willing to bet on it. For the first time since he’d fallen victim to that curse, he was grateful.
**
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one puff of breath is never enough

“You won’t escape us this time,” the fey said.  Then he lunged forward.

Yori skipped back out of the way.  Then he spun to one side and dodged again.  He was shaking slightly.  He couldn’t fight like this.  He summoned his staff.

The fey chuckled.  “You’ll fight me with that stick?” he said, looking over the plain blond wood.  He drew a sword.  With a feral grin, the fey lunged forward.

Yori gasped.  He brought it his staff up just in time.  The force of the fey’s attack sent him sliding back several feet.  “It’s not a stick,” he growled.  “It’s a staff!”  He took a deep breath, but the fey lunged again.

He released the breath and leapt out of the way.  Then he jumped to a tree branch.  He took another deep breath.  This time, he swung the staff outward.  Wind cut through the air, speeding at the fey.

Hissing, the fey brought up his sword.  The wind hit his weapon like a solid force.  It was his turn to slide backwards.

Yori took another deep breath and swung his staff back the other way.  Again, a blade of wind cut through the air.  The fey was knocked back again.  This time, he lost his balance and fell into the gorge.  The fey screamed for a moment before he hit the flowing water.  Then, with a strangled cry, he burst into flame.

Gasping for air, Yori banished his staff.  He sighed and pulled a small vial out of his belt.  He flipped the cap off the top and held it under his nose.  Just once, he wished fighting fey could be easy – that it could take one attack, instead of many.

**

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It Gets Under Your Skin, Life

My sister found a page on livejournal that gives you a theme to write on each day.  This is my contribution for today.  The theme is in the title-line.

**

Yori gasped as the fey lunged at him.  He held the breath and swung up his staff, barely deflecting the attack.  The fey staggered back for a moment and then lunged at him again.  He didn’t have time to put magic behind the block this time.

He fell back, onto the ground, with the fey on top of him.  It smiled, showing all its pointed teeth.  Yori shivered.  He tried to push up and back, but the fey had the advantage of leverage.

It was slowly, undeniably forcing the staff and his hands up over his head.  If it managed to pin them there he was done.  “N-no,” he said.

The fey chuckled.  “Oh, yes,” it said.  “You smell sweet.  I’ll enjoy drinking your blood.”  He was forcing Yori’s hand upward.  Both of them knew it wouldn’t be long.  Yori bit his lip, stifling a whimper.  He didn’t want to die, not now – not when he and Rune were about to have children.

White-hot light flew overhead.  The fey hissed in pain and sat up.  It was the chance Yori needed.  He pulled his knees up and then straightened his legs.  Once the weight was off his chest, he rolled onto his feet.  The fey hissed again and then disappeared into the trees.

Yori sighed in relief.  He looked over at Rune and smiled.  “Thanks,” he said, his voice faint.  “That one almost had me.”  He rubbed the back of his head and chuckled wryly.  “I wasn’t quite ready for the end, you know?”

“That’s life,” Rune said, smiling.  “It gets under your skin.”

“You got under my skin years ago,” Yori said.  Then he stood on his toes and kissed Rune’s mouth.  He smiled brightly.

**

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