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Posted on September 14, 2013 at 07:35:33 PM by Gaiane & Pallas
Ever since the trip to Earth, Gaiane had been avoiding her mother. The young fairy was still processing everything she had discovered about Earth, about her family, about the lies she had been told growing up. Of course, she understood that her mother wanted to be a deity, and she understood that all parents wanted to look perfect in the eyes of their children, but Styx had seemed above that for so long that Gaiane didn’t know how to take the fact that the immortal one was not so different from an ordinary fairy. She certainly wasn’t an original.
Instead, she spent time roaming the lands of Shaman with Pallas. If the oracle worried, she would know where her daughter was, but she never went looking. Perhaps it was the commotion at the cove or the ambition that ate so much of the old fairy’s attention, but Gaiane had found an independence that she hadn’t really known before. But independence, even when desired, was lonely, and Gaiane had always had people around. Still, she didn’t want her mother, and she didn’t really have friends beyond the scribes tolerating her presence.
The feathered dragon nuzzled against her as the fairy thought on how alone she was. It wasn’t really an attempt to comfort the girl as much as it was to remind her about how important the dragon was, and that Pallas would not be discounted from the list. Gaiane smiled and ran her fingers through the dragons soft down and recalled that Pallas was not, in fact, the only dragon familiar on the world. That nice boy in the castle had said his familiar was a great black dragon. Gaiane grinned a bit goofily at the thought of the boy (well really he was a man. A very attractive man) and Gaiane had grown up a bit. Her body wasn’t in that awkward stage of only just hitting puberty.
The girl had an excuse as well. She had never returned his sister’s dress after she had been soaked in the rain. It was terribly impolite to steal clothing from a noble family. Gaiane didn’t need her mother’s teaching to tell her that was true. Carefully, Gaiane gathered the fabric, as though it were the most delicate silk in any universe, and draped it over the white dragon before climbing on.
Pallas was not a fan of flying with the newly purple sky, and to be honest, it gave the fairy a deep feeling of dread as well. Still, they had to get to the castle to return the dress and see Mordred again. Pallas rose into the air like the whirlygigs on earth, without a running start as her great, powerful wings thrust downward. Together, they beelined for the castle.
Well actually, it wasn’t really a beeline in the straight sense of the word. Pallas was absolutely not going close to the crack in the sky (what if she fell through? Or something else fell through?) so it was actually a very round about flight to the castle, but Gaiane didn’t mind. Her stomach had begun to flutter in a way that flying had never caused before. Her whole body was hot and her hands were tingling a bit when they finally landed in the courtyard.
Gaiane, to her horror, saw that the lord was, in fact, in the same court yard already. How was she supposed to casually bump into him if he was already here? She couldn’t say “I was just in the neighborhood” now that he could clearly see she’d flown in. In a failed attempt at calm, Gaiane slid from Pallas’s back and took the dress in trembling hands. Pallas was not paying attention to the turmoil inside her fairy. She could smell the blood from the bull carcasses that had been not so far away, not so long ago, and her stomach growled as deeply as her voice ever could.
Shyly, Gaiane approached Dred and held the dress out for him to take. “I brought this back for your sister. I’m sorry I took so long to return it.” Her fingers gripped it with enough tension that the fabric wrinkled and her knuckles paled. In contrast, all that blood from her knuckles seemed to race straight to her face, and her cheeks, forehead, nose and neck all became rather reminiscent of an unripe strawberry. Awkward as it was, Gaiane probably would have been even more nervous if she had dared to approach him and speak to him with Mordred actually facing her. Backs were ever so much easier to talk to in times like this.
The poor fairy didn’t know what she’d do if he decided to turn around to actually talk to the person who had just interrupted his morning. Her head told her to toss the dress and hurry back to Palllas and fly away, but her heart and feet stayed grounded in place, staring at the nobleman before her.
Instead, she spent time roaming the lands of Shaman with Pallas. If the oracle worried, she would know where her daughter was, but she never went looking. Perhaps it was the commotion at the cove or the ambition that ate so much of the old fairy’s attention, but Gaiane had found an independence that she hadn’t really known before. But independence, even when desired, was lonely, and Gaiane had always had people around. Still, she didn’t want her mother, and she didn’t really have friends beyond the scribes tolerating her presence.
The feathered dragon nuzzled against her as the fairy thought on how alone she was. It wasn’t really an attempt to comfort the girl as much as it was to remind her about how important the dragon was, and that Pallas would not be discounted from the list. Gaiane smiled and ran her fingers through the dragons soft down and recalled that Pallas was not, in fact, the only dragon familiar on the world. That nice boy in the castle had said his familiar was a great black dragon. Gaiane grinned a bit goofily at the thought of the boy (well really he was a man. A very attractive man) and Gaiane had grown up a bit. Her body wasn’t in that awkward stage of only just hitting puberty.
The girl had an excuse as well. She had never returned his sister’s dress after she had been soaked in the rain. It was terribly impolite to steal clothing from a noble family. Gaiane didn’t need her mother’s teaching to tell her that was true. Carefully, Gaiane gathered the fabric, as though it were the most delicate silk in any universe, and draped it over the white dragon before climbing on.
Pallas was not a fan of flying with the newly purple sky, and to be honest, it gave the fairy a deep feeling of dread as well. Still, they had to get to the castle to return the dress and see Mordred again. Pallas rose into the air like the whirlygigs on earth, without a running start as her great, powerful wings thrust downward. Together, they beelined for the castle.
Well actually, it wasn’t really a beeline in the straight sense of the word. Pallas was absolutely not going close to the crack in the sky (what if she fell through? Or something else fell through?) so it was actually a very round about flight to the castle, but Gaiane didn’t mind. Her stomach had begun to flutter in a way that flying had never caused before. Her whole body was hot and her hands were tingling a bit when they finally landed in the courtyard.
Gaiane, to her horror, saw that the lord was, in fact, in the same court yard already. How was she supposed to casually bump into him if he was already here? She couldn’t say “I was just in the neighborhood” now that he could clearly see she’d flown in. In a failed attempt at calm, Gaiane slid from Pallas’s back and took the dress in trembling hands. Pallas was not paying attention to the turmoil inside her fairy. She could smell the blood from the bull carcasses that had been not so far away, not so long ago, and her stomach growled as deeply as her voice ever could.
Shyly, Gaiane approached Dred and held the dress out for him to take. “I brought this back for your sister. I’m sorry I took so long to return it.” Her fingers gripped it with enough tension that the fabric wrinkled and her knuckles paled. In contrast, all that blood from her knuckles seemed to race straight to her face, and her cheeks, forehead, nose and neck all became rather reminiscent of an unripe strawberry. Awkward as it was, Gaiane probably would have been even more nervous if she had dared to approach him and speak to him with Mordred actually facing her. Backs were ever so much easier to talk to in times like this.
The poor fairy didn’t know what she’d do if he decided to turn around to actually talk to the person who had just interrupted his morning. Her head told her to toss the dress and hurry back to Palllas and fly away, but her heart and feet stayed grounded in place, staring at the nobleman before her.
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