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.
“Please just hurry up I want this to be over. I’m tired of lying in bed.”
“You know my healing magic leaves scars. I’m going to have to get someone else for this.”
“I don’t mind scars-”
“Yes but I don’t think you want this curse glyph permanently scarred onto your body.”
The elemental sat atop the mortal’s workbench, watching in awe the carvings and trinkets xe made. From small statues of stone and wood to toys for, as the mortal explained, xir siblings’ children. The elemental barely understood most of what the mortal spoke, but ze would not have changed it. The mortal gave zem a comfortable place to rest, bundled in blankets before the burning hearth. Even though ze was no larger than a house cat, the mortal cared for zem all the same as though ze was a being of xir size..
The thief-king lounged on xir throne, dressed in finery and oozing luxury. A devious, dark smile played across xir lips as xe watched the viper in xir fields of thieves cross the room to have an audience with xem. The thief-king would allow zir misdirection and deviance no longer.
The tolling of the church bells was drowned out by the bell towers of the castle, ringing into the countryside with fervor. That was when the people knew something had gone wrong. Children raced into the streets, yelling royal declarations from the tops of their lungs. “We are at war!”
The seashell stand, unmanned and unvisited, glittered dangerously in the sunlight, like a thousand tiny blades were for sale instead of gem-encrusted shells. There were no prices on the stand, no signs at all. Just glittering shells. The last person to take one was last seen walking into the ocean at dusk from the resort-front, shell clutched tightly in xir hand.
In the break from customers, the werewolf basked in the warm sunlight streaming through the display window, stealing away with the leftover winter chill. That is, until xe felt xir hair stand on end. Xe was being watched.
Knowingly, the werewolf turned around and watched as the spirit flinched back as if afraid to be caught. The werewolf continued to stare until the spirit finally spoke. “Does it feel nice?” ze asked in a meek voice. For a moment, the werewolf could swear tears shimmered on the spirit’s face.
Pity consumed xem and xe could only nod. The spirit made a dejected sound and drifted upstairs towards the living quarters. The living quarters that used to be zirs, back when ze was still among the living. The werewolf felt shame mix with the pity. If only xe hadn’t been the unknowing cause of it all. Xe would take it back in an instant, but that didn’t matter now. Xe couldn’t go back and alter the past.
The Faerie planted xir feet firmly at the entrance to the little cubby in the wall, peering sharply through the colorful and writhing aether of already-eaten dreams. A dream eater den was no place for this lost babe but the Faerie had to have answers, and answers xe would get. With teeth bared, xe walked in with purpose. The babe slept soundly the whole time.
The drake perched upon the abandoned village’s roofs, smoke wafting from its nostrils, its scales shimmering in the dying summer light. The rogue princex, run ragged and weary, looked up to it and flashed a fearsome grin. “What say you to being a help to me for a while? I’ll make sure you get a fair share of treasures and a lair perfect for yourself.”
The drake shook its head as if shooing off a particularly annoying fly. Thinking of a fly sized enough to annoy a drake mildly perturbed the princex. “I wish not for treasures, mortal,” the drake rumbled. “Nor a lair to call my own. You claim to be heir to this wretched kingdom’s throne? Good. That will be help enough. I will tell you when the time comes what I wish from you. Not before."
The princex stared up at it, briefly concerned at what the price might be for this drake’s help, but xe shook its aside. "Then a bargain has been struck,” xe said proudly. And then xe felt the bargain take, the spell binding the princex to the drake. There would be no running from this, not now. The drake gave a fearsome, jagged grin in response.