When humankind and elvenkind came back into contact, the elves determined human culture to be abhorrent in many aspects and refused to accept it or participate in it. Well, most of them. Xir, however, loved the hair dye and piercings and leather biking jackets, and strove to wear them at every chance. Xe reveled in being the clan’s pariah, influencing the youngest generations xe came across to follow in xir footsteps. Humans were very confused at seeing a troupe of elves with dyed hair, Mohawks, tattoos and piercings strolling down the street in full biking leathers but they opted to say nothing about it.
The being whirling around the halfway house, singing songs in the Ancient Tongue, took well care of all its inhabitants, many of whom had spiraling horns, cloven hoof, and/or sharp teeth. This was a house for the disgraced, the exiled, and now the Faerie joined the house’s ranks, furious at being so harshly slighted and bitter enough to make xem taste bile. But nevertheless, xe clutched dearly to that babe, even though it was that very child that had gotten xem exiled at all. The warmth in that babe’s eyes soothed the Faerie’s rage, at least temporarily.
There had to be something xe could do, sitting here doing nothing made xir want to peel xir skin from its flesh; but xir lungs seemed to fill with wet concrete and xir bones transmuted themselves to lead when xe tried to change anything. There was nothing to be done, then. There was everything to be done.
The young spinner paused, examined xir work. “I’m not terribly good at this.” And indeed, fibers of half formed thoughts stuck out from xir thread at odd angles they weren’t supposed to, and xir ideas were clogged thick at some places and pulled nigh unbearibly thin at others.
“Perhaps,” said xir master, letting eir own gossamer strand of spun consciousness slip through eir fingers, perfect and uniform. “But you are inexperienced. Skill comes with time, and practice. Come, take up the spindle again.”
The monarch was used to waking up with [X] gone. Ey frequently woke early to go pray and attend to eir duties within the palace. [X] being gone was normal.
What worried the monarch was that when xe woke up, [Y] was missing as well. Normally [Y] would still be tucked comfortably under the monarchs arm, still softly snoring, but this morning xe was utterly alone.
The couch was not made for three people. Really, it was a glorified loveseat, barely had room for two. Nevertheless, they made it work, [X] sprawled across eir partners’ laps as they sat side by side.
The darkness buzzed around them, unsettled, like a blanket of locusts. They exchanged uneasy glances. This was probably a bad idea, but it was the only idea they had. It was a necessary risk.