Tally Roawn's Story

When the call went out , the sun had just begun its final descent for the evening, dipping partway under the horizon and splashing bands of red, orange and then finally violet across the sky. It had been a warm day, though not uncomfortably so, the first untouched by a series of careless thunderstorms that had darkened The Isle for days. To their chagrin, the charges who had largely been trapped indoors for days had been instructed that morning to remain close to The Compound that had become their home. There had been no lessons today, nothing formal, at least.

Arietta had secluded herself away in the library, taking over an entire table with a score of books. Anyone passing through wouldn’t even draw her attention as she flipped through pages, referencing and cross-referencing several tomes at once. She was making notes in a mixture of Greek and Hebrew, the characters so small that they were barely legible, and still she’d managed to fill three pages by midafternoon.

Simon was not his eminently approachable self. He’d apparently traded out his usual easy jocularity for surliness to rival Matthew’s, and spent most of the day hiding out in the small office where he held his confidential sessions. The Balaren Guardian was as solemn as ever, and shortly after dinner (which none of the Guardians had been present for), he enlisted Fleet and any charges willing to assist him in transporting quite a bit of firewood from the stores to the center of the courtyard, where he proceeded to build what looked to be the beginnings of a massive bonfire, neatly stacking the wood like Lincoln Logs until the resulting cube-like structure was nearly as tall as he was. He was characteristically laconic, only speaking to explain the need for proper draft if the fire was to burn all night, and other such survivalist tidbits.

Only Michaela was unaccounted for. Normally, she popped up periodically throughout the day, but she’d presumably consigned herself to the former officer’s quarters that the Guardians used for their more-and-more frequent, at least of late, meetings.

It had been a strange year by The Isle’s standards, though precious few of the current charges would understand that completely. In the past month alone, more than a half-dozen young men and women who had Awakened to their Bloodline had appeared. Most of them would have at least an idea of the fact that a half-dozen was a large number of charges for The Compound. All told, they numbered more than a score now, a fact which the Evincal would likely feel resonant with portent.

The instant that work on the tower of wood was complete, Fleet whipped his head about to regard Matthew with wide eyes. ”Is it time?!” he asked, his excitement even more vibrant than his usual insane baseline. Matthew merely nodded, and anyone in the immediate vicinity would be buffeted by a blast of breeze as the Wind-Born Navarene seemingly vanished. Most would be by now aware of his ability to become wind, rather than merely affect or create it, and in the form of a zephyr, Fleet raced throughout the grounds to give the call.

”Meeting in the courtyard!” He manifested physically for only just long enough to deliver his message before zipping off to find another young man or woman to inform. He scoured The Compound and the area surrounding it, stirring up leaves and dust in his wake as he flitted about, appearing before groups who had come together to talk, in dorm rooms, in the common area, even in the library and everywhere in between. ”Meeting in the courtyard! Meeting in the courtyard! Meeting in the courtyard!” He didn’t stop until every last soul on the island was aware of the convocation that would soon take place.

By the time the charges had begun filtering into the courtyard, the Guardians had all assembled save for Michaela. Arietta, looking as weary as ever, was seated in the lotus position with her eyes closed, not far from the pyre that Matthew had constructed. Fleet reappeared, frowning when he realized that he’d somehow lost his favored white fedora in his rapid fit of transformation and exclamation. Matthew was leaning to the left of The Compound’s main entrance, his arms crossed over his chest and his features blank. Simon had emerged from his office, and was currently pacing back and forth in front of the officer’s quarters, his agitation more than evident in the form of some low-toned self-muttering.

It was only after each and every one of the young men and women had gathered about the courtyard that Michaela emerged from the officers’ quarters. A simple white cotton dress draped her form, and her bright smile was a beacon of reassurance. She maintained it even when Simon bee-lined for her, and stopped to engage in a terse conversation with him. Their words would go unheard, but there was no mistaking that the exchange was anything but pleasant, if only for the fact that the air around them began to show ripples, reflecting the Omarain Guardian’s agitation in visual form. It was concluded quickly enough. Simon’s expression was even bleaker as he stalked off to lean beside Matthew, who was carefully avoiding making eye contact with the Mori.

Michaela drew a single breath, and in that span regained her composure utterly. The distortions surrounding her ironed themselves out, replaced by a warm aura of soft white light. As she walked directly toward the pyre, illusory flowers, poppies in white and crème and egg-shell sprung up in her wake, creating a path behind her. The trail of flowers followed her, then pooled out around her when she came to a stop, as if she had simply come to stand in the center of a thick patch of them.

”Everyone, gather ‘round please.” She was too dignified to shout, but her voice carried remarkably, reaching every ear and tugging at every mind. It was little more than a simple request, but it was difficult to deny. Arietta tried to catch her eye, and when she did, Michaela shook her head succinctly. The Evincal Guardian just nodded a tired nod and closed her eyes, remaining completely still upon the ground.

”This won’t take very long at all,” she explained, panning her gaze to draw in each of them, address each of them. ”I know you’re all probably wondering why you’re here, in this courtyard, but more than that, why you’re here. On The Isle. With everyone finally settled in, it’s high time that you learn the purpose of this place, one of the world’s last bastions of magic, and your purpose in this place.” She was a perfect admixture of solemnity and wisdom as she began her speech, but she dazzled them with a vibrant grin. ”I also have a surprise for all of you, but that will have to wait till after the end of the story.”








The faerie prince was uncharacteristically alone when the messenger arrived.

Aaron did not normally seek out solitude. Generally, he fled it. He was seldom in his room, save to sleep, change his clothes, and shower, but when he was simply there, he tended to leave his door open, a standing invitation to all the courtiers who had reason to petition him (there had never been an actual petition, of course, but he eagerly awaited the day that the first of many came). Tonight, though, the door stood closed and even locked. His endeavor was a private one, and distractions were the mortal foes of such work- foes that the faerie prince had no defense against save for seclusion.

He’d been at it since just after dinner, though not to great success. The idea, like most of his, had sprung fully formed but elusive from his mind, and he was having difficulty getting his mental hands upon it now that it was free. He already had pen and paper, used for sending missives to his family, which was all he truly needed for the task at hand: to begin to commit to ink on paper the story of the faerie prince. His story.

It was proving a challenge that might ironically be termed princely. Words came easily to him, when speaking, but catching them with the nib of a pen and then sticking them fast to paper was proving an entirely different matter. Thus far, he’d managed after three attempts to arrive at a working title (the appropriate but not particularly inspired Tales of The Faerie Prince), and nothing else worth keeping. He’d tried speaking aloud, saying words and then writing them down afterwards in effort hopes of fooling the fickle Muses into helping him. They were apparently cannier than he’d suspected. He’d tried making lists with bullet points to organize his thoughts, but his thoughts were not made for such a static, rigid template. From the small graveyard of balled up sheets that were now scattered about the floor around and beneath his desk, an observer might have thought him in the midst of penning a novel full, but fortunately, there were no observers to bear witness to the fitful process.

At least, there weren’t until Fleet arrived. His gusty entrance sent the crumpled pages skittering, and Aaron had to lunge, using his forearm to trap the almost-empty expanse of white paper that he’d been staring at intently for the past ten minutes while thinking instead of what Graham might be up to, or if Renn was busy with Erin, or if Milo would like the title he’d come up with, or… well, of anything but the task at hand, really, in order to keep it from flying away from him. Startled and embarrassed (though he’d never admit the latter), he wheeled around in his seat (literally, it had wheels) to face the intruder.

”Meeting in the courtyard!” He heard the call before he saw the speaker.

His wroth fled when he noted it was Fleet. The Navarene Guardian never failed to bring a bright grin to Aaron’s full lips. Lifting a hand to brush down a bit of fitfulness that his spun-gold hair seemed to have engaged in thanks to the miniature localized windstorm that was Fleet, he relaxed in his seat and regarded the man. ”How now, spirit? Whither wander you?” His voice rang out like music, the first part of an exchange that he never failed to encourage. The words had come to mind immediately when he’d first met Fleet, and like most of the words that came into his mind, they had exited soon thereafter through his mouth. Fleet had been confused, but after a few encounters, had begun to respond, creating something of an inside joke between the two that the elemental didn’t quite comprehend but enjoyed nevertheless.

”Sorry Aaron, very busy. Something about a girdle! Gotta go!” With that he was gone, and this time, a somewhat dejected Aaron was unable to stop the first page of his great work from sailing from his desk to under his bed. A meeting, in the courtyard? Only in the messenger’s absence did he process the message. Such an event wasn’t unprecedented, but neither then was it ordinary. Aaron’s affinity for all things out of ordinary abolished his frustrations with the Muses from his mind. He hopped to his feet, arching his back in feline fashion to stretch. He glimpsed himself in the glass (he’d read a story that had referred to mirrors as glasses, which had initially confused him, but now he’d adopted the terminology into his increasingly archaic vocabulary) to ascertain that he was ready for a public appearance.

He was already wearing his favorite shirt, one that he’d found in the cache of spare clothing (a simple white linen peasant’s shirt with billowing sleeves and a plunging neckline that showed off a great deal of his pale chest), along with a pair of breeches (really, they were simple dark khakis, but he rolled the legs up to his mid-calves and insisted they were breeches). He waxed and waned on wearing shoes and decided that he’d prefer his feet bare. The sound of them slapping the concrete floor of the hallway that led out of the dorm area in a rapid rhythm would announce the faerie prince’s timely departure. It wasn’t quite a run, or a skip, or a dance, but something that sat fixed squarely between the three, as playful, impatient, and amusing to watch as Aaron himself.

He was among the last to arrive, which only meant that he didn’t have time to sort out who he meant to stand with around the bonfire. His violet eyes flitted about, evaluating the prospects, and he started towards Renn, eager to see if the Earth-Born might know what was going on.

”Everyone, gather ‘round, please.”

Michaela’s voice drew his attention to her immediately, in a way that her mastery of illusion never could. The boy was as susceptible to Glamour as anyone, maybe even moreso, and a smile scrawled itself across his features as he simply stopped moving, standing in place to listen. His eyes lit up and did a rather remarkable saucer impression at the revelation that followed her introduction: a story AND a surprise. There were few things that Aaron enjoyed more than either, and he was hard-pressed to decide which he preferred (never mind that he had no idea what the surprise was). Fortunately, he needn’t decide at all; he was getting both!

With story-time looming, he assumed his favorite position for tale-telling; he lowered himself with aplomb into an “Indian” style of sitting, his legs folded up above and beneath one another, and then balanced his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms, leaning forward in a show of eagerness for what was to come.

The Girl in Rags

Tally was alone in her room, laying on her bed and listening to music on her ipod that she brought from home. It’s funny that at home she never spent a day alone, she was always either with family or friends, out doors having fun. Ever since she got here though she is by herself more often than not, that’s not to say the people on the Isle weren’t nice. It was just that Tally didn’t feel like she belonged here, not yet at least and she also wasn’t completely sold on the magic thing either. She felt as if actually becoming close with the people would make everything more real. She started flicking rapidly through her collection of songs, none of them seemed even slightly appealing to her. She ended up throwing her ipod a across the room dismissively and bouncing off her bed, deciding she was going to leave the compound and get some fresh. Hopefully also not getting lost in the process. As Tally left her room she saw a few people about but not too many, it was mostly pretty quite today.

As Tally made her way through the hallways her thoughts drifted to home. She missed it, she had never been this far away from home and her family before. This Isle was so different from Hawaii too, sure the first thing she did was check out the beaches she had been told about but they weren’t the same. Sure they felt more like home than anywhere else here but at best the waves were hardly surf waves and at most places the sand was pretty much nonexistent. Though the smell of salt water had been exactly like home. After a few wrong turns - hey, she was new here - she had arrived at the exit to the compound. Before she could get to exit though she felt a strong gust of wind fly past her. She turned to see where the wind had come from and nearly died of shock when she saw Fleet smiling at her. He didn’t waste any time in all but yelling in her face with excitement. “Meeting in the courtyard!”

Before Tally could react, another gust of wind flew past her and Fleet was gone. Leaving her staring at the space Fleet had left empty, in half wonder and half awe. No matter how long she stayed here she was sure that was something she would never get used to. Tally then gave the door to the outside of the compound one last longing look before turning around and making her way to the courtyard. She managed to make in to the courtyard without making any wrong turns and saw that a few other charges had arrived also. She looked around at everyone else to see what they thought of this gathering of sorts. Does this happen often, she thought to herself. She saw a few of the people who she had been friendly with on the Isle but didn’t approach them. They were either with a group or Tally felt she didn’t know them well enough to approach them so instead so took to standing near the back alone.

After a little bit Michaela stepped up to address the charges and started talking about some magical story. Tally didn’t want to be interested, after all she didn’t want anything to do with magic but despite herself, she found herself being drawn in. Was this that glamour thing she had been told about?

Michaela’s grin abated, and she let her eyes slipped closed. As serenity settled into place on her features, dusk truly descended. It was no illusion, no trick of glamour, but it hardly seemed a coincidence that the shadowy terminator was just now creeping over the westernmost of the tumbled-down fort’s walls. Twilight was upon them, and gravely, as the Omarain prepared herself, Matthew pushed himself away from his perch and stalked toward the wood he’d earlier stacked, choosing a path that steered him clear of clumped charges. He used a plain Zippo lighter to ignite a torch, and then thrust it into the tinder and kindling that had been arranged at the base of the soon-to-be-bonfire. Flames caught quickly, streaming smoke into the sky, and hungry fire began to taste the sturdier plinths of wood with flickering tongues. Matthew retreated, his duty discharged, but continued along in a circular path around the courtyard, using his captive flame to light braziers and standing torches that were used to light the fort by night.

As the last of daylight died, Michaela, eyes hidden away as if in repose, began to breathe deeply, rhythmically. Her chest swelled, making her breasts all the more obvious beneath the thin white cotton that veiled them. The fire crackled as it climbed the scaffold made for just that purpose, and then the luminous corona of white light that ensconced her began to spread out in every direction. At first it crept inches, and then feet, until every soul attendant was seemingly bathed in that light as well. Before their eyes, the light would seem to congeal, separating into motes that left impenetrable blackness between them, so dark all that would be visible aside from the pricks of white were their fellow charges and Guardians- each other, and the fire, which continued to burn. So potent was her gift that it might be a moment before some realized they were under the sway of an Omarain illusion, each and every one.

The walls of the erstwhile fortress were drowned in black. The library faded away as well, then the officer’s quarters, then The Compound itself, leaving nothing but endless darkness punctuated with little bits of light. It might be dizzying, or even frightful, to have the entire world as they knew it slip away from them, replaced with what might be the night sky, or the endless depths of space, or something else. Whatever it was or soon would be, the Omarain among them would know better than most how exacting the illusion must have been on Michaela. The other charges too; none of them, not even Renn, would ever have seen her display her power on such a scale before. Even the other Guardians seemed awed to behold it, all save for Simon, who simply folded his arms across his chest and made his face a still mask.

Adrift in blackness, they would hear her voice, but not from her lips. It seemed to come from all around them like the music of the stars that her motes of light were no doubt meant to represent.

”You have learned of your bloodlines, sweet ones, but most of you have been taught little of the ancestors from whom that blood flows. Most of what you have heard you learned away from this sacred place; lies, perversions, bastardizations meant to pollute what was once real magic, to reduce it to simple, commercial entertainment, to sanitize and slay it. Tonight you will learn more.”

The “stars” began to re-order themselves once more. They were legion now, great swarms of light particles in a silent dance with one another. They separated into five distinct-yet-shapeless clouds, leaving vast tracks of void beneath them, and then took their places behind the rough circles that the charges and Guardians described around the growing bonfire.

The largest free-wheeling constellation came to a stop between Michaela and Arietta, nearly between them but set lightyears back. Another settled into place 72 degrees to the first’s left, and another 72 degrees to the left of that, and so on until the five points of a star, or perhaps a pentagram, had been defined in the space around them. Some might have to crane their necks or turn about to see them all, and if they did, they’d note that the specks of light had begun a new dance, one that only lasted until they had taken on a new shape. The largest spread out, thrice as tall as Michaela (for in the illusion, sizes could really only be compared in a relative sense), and then grew even more massive as it unfurled its starry wings. The next separated into the three distinct forms, tall and slender. The next dance around the pentagram yielded two large shapes, one that seemed to walk on four legs and one that walked on two. After that, another large shape, but it was escorted by many smaller ones, and finally, to the right of the first, four distinct shapes of vaguely human size.

Michaela’s voice hummed like a leyline again, and as it did, the masses of stars, the tiny galaxies, would continue their dances, taking more distinct and recognizable shapes.

”The mighty dragons were fire and magic made flesh. They were old when the world was young. Their claws dug rivers, their breath stirred storms, and their battles raised the mountains and scorched the land into deserts. Their ways are mostly lost to us, but we know that they began primordial and will not end until the last Evincal is ended. The last true dragon was named Snowscale; she fled to the deepest reaches of the icy parts of the Earth after men had slain her brothers and sons. When the envoys came she agreed that it was the only way and shed a single frozen tear, the only component needed for the ritual that would make the blood of one strong mortal line draconic evermore.”

The largest shape was fully formed by the time she took a pause. The star-dragon was not a static thing. Its tail stirred through the deep blackness, its wings buffeted cosmic currents, and its head lowered, as if in a courtly bow, toward the circle.

”The envoys were the true fae, creatures either born of dreams or responsible for them. The truth will never be known, for they are all gone now, all sealed away in their own kingdoms to save themselves from the iron and church bells and saucers of cream that men learned were their banes. They were the architects of the Bloodlines, and stole away young men and women from a noble family for the turn of a single moon. They returned with lighter step and faerie blood and Omarain children in their wombs. The fae did not return, though. They locked the gate and melted down the key, consigning themselves forever more to dreams, until men are gone and their dreams with them.”

The three slender shapes resolved themselves into three fae, tall and willowy, with features that resembled those of humans, but too perfect to be anything but alien. They wore swords and finery of stars, and they too bowed, deep and courtly, toward the charges.

”The children of the moon had lost more and most to humankind. Their domains were the wyld places, untouched until civilization began its inevitable spread. They fought back with tooth and claw, but the advantage of men has always been numbers. The war of attrition dwindled them to almost nothing, but it made them remember that they were half-man themselves. Repentant rather than wroth, they chose a dozen humans and a dozen wolves, calling them The First Pack, and thus the Balaren were born.”

One part of the next set of stars became a dire-wolf so large that a grown man standing would barely reach its shoulders while all four of its paws touched earth. The other became a thing of nightmare, muscle and fur and claws and teeth. Both of the stellar apparitions lifted their head in an eerie, silent howl. The one on two legs declined its head toward the charges, and the one on four bent the knees of its forelegs, a lupine bow. The tale continued.

”The lords of the pit regarded humanity as little more than sustenance, things to be played with. They were the terror born of the darkness, the evil things that stalked the night, but they too were offered the chance to bind their fate more meaningfully to the races of men. Most balked or laughed, but one wise pit-lord agreed, abandoning the council of his enemy-brethren and infusing the most cunning and dangerous mortals he could find with his hellfire blood. The Mori would need his strength and their own as the centuries stretched into millennia, for there are cracks in the prison that was forged for demonkind.”

The demon lord that resulted of the dancing stars was nearly as tall as the dragon, powerfully muscled, with cloven hooves and a supple tail. In one hand he held a whip, and in the other a sword that glowed with starfire. He did not bow, but instead regarded the charges coldly with eyes made black by lack of stars.

”The spirits of nature only revealed themselves truly for the first time in the course of a single evening. They had always been there, perhaps for even longer than dragonkind, though it is not for me to say which came first, fire or dragon. They had sought harmony with men and beast alike, but men were too clever by far. Rather than being content with the gifts of the elementals, they found ways to trap them and bend them to their will without ever knowing the pain they caused. Still the elemental ones sought harmony, and bonded with a people who had never once enslaved them willingly that the Navarene might one day bring about the balance that was lost.”

The final four became fire, water, wind, and earth. Their shapes were vaguely human at best. Fire was the brightest, a burning crucible of stars. Water’s shape ebbed and flowed. The stars that formed Wind raced ‘round one another in vortices. Earth was more solid, compact and strong. As one, the joined what might pass for hands and bowed deeply.

In silence save for the crackling of the bonfire, the darkness receded, returning control of their senses to those assembled. The constellations remained, though, like an afterimage, and in the last light of dusk could be seen briefly in all their glory before they too faded. Snowscale’s armoring was gleaming alabaster, her eyes brimming with sorrow and intellect. The finery of the fae stole every color of the rainbow, and their skin was pale and far too smooth. The standing wolf had fur that was black as coal and eyes like slivers of the moon; its companion on all fours had fur of mottled gray and brown, and it was laying with its belly against the grass. The demon stood tall still, its skin burnished and rough looking, its features sinister but proud, its whip and sword forged of hellfire. The nature spirits were all the colors that they should have been, flickering or flowing or blowing or standing stalwart.

And then, they were all simply gone. The courtyard was restored to reality, and anyone who chanced to look upon Michaela would see her looking very tired, and very, very old. She drew a single breath, and in that span was young and beautiful again. She managed a smile, the weariness of which would match Arietta on her worst day. The Omarain spoke again, only just audible above the feast of flames gnawing at the wood.

”Humans are forgetting their magic.” She opened her vibrant eyes again, and let her gaze pan once more along the circle of charges and Guardians alike, Omarain and Evincal and Mori and Balaren and Navarene. ”It is the natural state of all things, even men. Remember childhood, when all the world seemed new and bright and exciting? When imagination weaved spells all its own upon you? Man has been squandering his magic, though. It is not enough for him to lift a stick from the ground and make it, just by thought, into a cane, or shelter, or a pretend-sword. Now he must cut the tree open and count the rings, must abolish every secret of nature in the name of Progress.”

Her survey of them all was done. She brought her hands together, clasping them in front of her with a gentle clap. ”There is hope for magic though. It is here, not around you, but in you. It is you. History cannot reveal a time when so many have Awakened to their blood at once, been found and brought together. Such things happened once; they were called Convocations, and the Bloodlines would meet and squabble and boast and the world continued to suffer for their arrogance. They had forgotten, but we must not forget.”

She spread her hands, as if to gather all of them in her arms. ”We must come together, not ignoring each other’s differences but embracing them. The days ahead will be different than the days behind. We have lapsed, in order to bring you all here safe and whole, but on the morrow, we begin in earnest to help you become what you must. I know to some of you, this sounds fanciful, but think of what you have learned to do already, what you have seen your fellows do. On the morrow, we begin in earnest…”

With a flick of her wrist, she sent something that glittered as it flew through the air catching firelight toward Renn: a set of keys. Where she’d hidden them on her pocketless person was anyone’s guess, as was how she’d managed to produce them, but they were there. ”Tonight, though, we revel.” Her warm smile became a grin. ”Or, I should say, you revel. It would hardly be a party with a bunch of stodgy grown-ups about, would it? Enjoy yourselves. Learn of one another. Relax for one final evening and make merry together…” One of her eyebrows lifted to form a perfect arch, as she continued. ”But try not to overdo it. I meant what I said about the morrow. You won’t want to still be feeling tonight when you awaken.”

Her fellow Guardians were not unaffected by the display; like many charges, most of them were still recovering from both the power of the vision and the strangeness of being made to see what had been so long ago. Simon had already slipped off, possibly in the midst of the presentation. Arietta was smiling softly, her expression cast thoughtful, as she rose to her feet and dusted herself off, preparing to return to the library. Matthew was frowning, but shook his head and stretched out, nodding curtly to anyone who met his eye before he took his wolf shape without a single cry of pain and raced off beyond the walls.

Poor Fleet looked positively a mess, his lower lip jutting out as he directed his attention, eyes wide, toward Michaela. She laughed, and the sound was the tinkling of bells more than it was laughter. ”Sweet Fleet, you are less a stodgy grown-up than many of our charges. Of course you may stay.” The Navarene Guardian let loose a cheer, jumping several feet into the air and then floating back down, as if gravity showed him favor just as the Omarain had. ”I need to find my hat!” he exclaimed before taking off at a run and then dissipating into wind once more.

”Good night,” Michaela called, her smile sweet as she turned to make her way back toward the officers’ quarters. No poppies followed her now; indeed, it seemed that she might have strained herself with the display. With her gone, none but the charges were left around the fire, which was now a roaring blaze.

The night was theirs.








Faerie princes were used to being attended, and so it bothered Aaron not at all when so many valued friends joined him prior to the presentation. Seph was gifted with a warm smile, and absently, his hand. He reached out, taking hers in his in simple, friendly fashion. When Renn’s shadow fell over him, he craned his neck to look up at his most beloved advisor, craning his neck back so far that his smile for the Navarene would essentially be upside-down.

Daniel and Hazel came to sit beside them as well, and Aaron lifted his free hand in a wave to the two, slight and courtly. He said no words, for it seemed a time for silence, though delight danced on his features, almost moving him to an excited greeting when Milo came to crouch at his other side. He grinned at the boy’s bafflement, before his attention was again stolen, this time by the advent of the Western Wind, bringing spring with her as always.

He heard a question, and only then noted that Darcy was among them as well. His brow creased and his eyes hardened just a little when he gleaned distress from her demeanor, but there was no time to find the cause with Michaela drawing them all in. Then Graham was there, so close at hand, and the hand that wasn’t linked with the wolf-born maid came forward to comb fingers through the demon prince’s hair, affectionately and absently, as one might stroke a cat. The realization of who was near cast light on who was not, and he glanced about quickly, finding the others in their small clumps or solitude. He had no hands to wave with, so instead, he fought back the falling dusk with a dazzling grin.

When Michaela began in earnest, he was still and silent (save for his hand teasing through Graham’s soft locks and the slight rise and fall of his chest), captivated. Snakes might be immune to their own venom, but the fae-blooded were far from immune to Glamour. Aaron in particular was more inclined to fall under its sway than most, his resistances stripped bare in the course of embracing what he could of the fae so eagerly. As her words and phantasms enfolded them, even his hand grew restive, to slowly slide from the Mori and into his lap; his hold on Seph remained, but slackened. It was eerie, that darkness. Unreal. Even though there was still earth as firm and sturdy as Renn beneath him, he could almost feel himself floating through it, the persistent whisper of vertigo in his ear.

The swarms of stars brought movement, his head whipping this way and that to mark them and track their progress while their leader described to them their forebears, codified the images that had been dancing through his head. The fae he knew of well, but he knew little of the dragons, the demons, the spirit-folk, the wolves. They all had their secrets, that was the way of it, but Michaela had elected to lay some of them bare in a fantastic showing.

He wanted to weep when it was done, when the shadows of the fae had faded, when stark reality reigned once more. Not so stark, though. Nothing seemed entirely real when limned only by firelight, and he drew comfort from that even as he struggled not to shed a tear. The impact of the presentation on Aaron was obvious; his despair might well have been written on his face in glowing ink. They’re all gone, but we remain, he told himself. A faerie prince must only cry for love.

Fortunately, there was more. In his consternation he had forgotten the surprise! His mind was practically tripping over Michaela’s songbird words until it came at last: a revel. The eldest Omarain was retreating, leaving them to their own devices. He had known parties in his time, everything ranging from the boring but beautiful galas of his parents’ world to the crowded teenage affairs that happened behind closed doors in boarding schools, but never had he enjoyed a party on The Isle, before…

… and the faerie prince hardly needed a pretext to dance. He already had Seph by the hand, and his grip strengthened even as he lashed out with his other for one of Milo’s. ”M’lord,” he spoke, looking left, and then ”M’lady,”, looking right. It was courtesy, plain and simple, but in a show of absurd dexterity he untangled his legs and rose in one fluid bit of worship to the god of movement, drawing them up to stand with him. As he did, the music began. Organ music, oddly enough, to compete with the crackling flames and the murmurs that would no doubt follow Michaela’s departure. It was the only remotely impressive trick of illusion that Aaron had mastered as of yet, to bring music with him wherever he went. Female voices in harmony broke in over the electronic organ, making known the unspoken command of the faerie prince: let the beat control you, let the beat control you…

His Gift was only so strong, though. Artemis, alone across the courtyard after Simon’s departure, would be the only one outside the range of the song, but he might still know what the youth was up to (Aaron often provided soundtracks for their fencing practice to join the clash of foil on foil). Everyone else would hear the song, growing more and more cheerful, infectious as a pox one caught from overeating sweets.

Tethered to Seph and Milo, he kept things simple at the onset, shoulders swaying, head bobbing to the rhythm, arms swinging so that his friends’ would swing as well. He was well aware that neither were dancers, not like him (but then, who was?), but he was content to simply drag them however clumsily they might along with him into the embrace of music and motion. He turned to glance at Graham, his eyebrows providing gesture that his busy hands could not. Up, up, slugabed! they exclaimed, bouncing up toward his hairline. Just you and me, let’s break it down!

Even as simple as he was keeping it for now, there was undeniable Glamour in the performance. His grin, broad and goofy, beckoned any who beheld it to give in to the joyous imperative that the song professed. He just looked to be having so much fun that only an enemy of fun wouldn’t wish to join in. He let loose delighted, musical laughter as he began to sing along, leaning in close to Milo, to Seph, to anyone who came near enough, as if his words were meant only to serenade them.

With song and dance, the revelry was begun. Leave it to a faerie prince to conjure a celebration from the very air.

Others arrived and despite his view of them he made sure to greet them with a smile or a friendly gesture, such was his way, though he stood by Simon for the opening festivities. Michaela was always rather cinematic and this was no exception in Artemis’ eyes, though as she began her speech and the pyre was lit he couldn’t help but notice that this encompassed a great deal more effort than her typical displays. He was as entranced as the others but it was hard even for Michaela to hold his minds complete attention. Inevitably random firings of electric signals in his brain drew his eye from her and over to the others, an odd thought had occurred to him and his eyes made to investigate as a slight bit of fog from his frontal lobe cleared. The students were entranced, that was no surprise, and Fleet, but then Artemis considered him less of a Full Guardian and more of an Initiate Guardian(not that there was anything wrong with such) but the surprise was that the other, more experienced elders where also enthralled. Not by some spell, no that was too simple an explanation, but rather by the scale of the illusion and the effort she put forth, nothing could more impress upon young Artemis the importance of this dialogue.

”You have learned of your bloodlines, sweet ones, but most of you have been taught little of the ancestors from whom that blood flows. Most of what you have heard you learned away from this sacred place; lies, perversions, bastardizations meant to pollute what was once real magic, to reduce it to simple, commercial entertainment, to sanitize and slay it. Tonight you will learn more.”

First as she spoke Artemis listened intently, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she had cast an acidic glare his way when she spoke of this and the content smile on his face faded for but a moment as their eye’s met. Whether she intended to speak to him, or of him was inconsequential at that point as she certainly caught the look on his face at this. They’d have words he was sure, civil ones, but words all the same, as Artemis sought to not “Bastardize” his fellows world like others would. But he returned to listening to her story and made mental note to speak to her later.

He strained to keep his mind from moving on to a related yet objective task yet in the same course of focusing on her words he also found his eyes glance at see the one person’s reaction he hadn’t other than his own, Simon’s. That was where his attention would dwell for a few seconds, though he still heard her words as the stars began to gather his peripheral vision still guided his thoughts. Simon was stoic, something he never really was, and seemed undaunted unlike the others which lead Artemis to one conclusion. There was precedence for this display; it was not some flight of Omarian fancy that she drew such power to a simple speech, and most importantly the fact that jovial Simon stood as a stalwart and masked man made it all the more clear to Artemis that something much deeper than others might see was being put forth in this speech. Finally Artemis found the strength to devout all his mind to the task at hand and as his eyes met Michaela’s yet again a calm washed over his mind which clouded to all but her voice, probably on her effort as she’d know how difficult it could be for him to not let his mind wander.

Now to believe Artemis was as a child with ADHD or some other affliction would be foolish, he heard every word of her speech and catalogued it all. He saw ever move of the stars, and noted their subtle differences, and he noted every nuance of her wording in the back of his mind to be later autopsied by his keen intellect. He issue was not hearing her or knowing her motions, it was in not hearing or knowing everyone else’s. It would make his night sleepless to be sure. To put it simply he heard it all, and noticed more. It was not that he couldn’t focus on her, it was that he could focus on everything, and random firings in his brain led his subconscious to strange and withdrawn conclusions that while he would be careful to ignore would undoubtedly make for strange instances later where his mind will have miss assumed.

As the display closed and the fog began to recede his mind broke free from her glamour before some of the others, actively shaking his head to clear it. He enjoyed her display but he wanted as little of it remaining as possible. Glancing up he saw her in her aged forum as the others gazed at nothing, though to them it was the remnants of the figures, and Artemis swallowed hard. He knew it was not his place to be concerned for her though, but he still was, and now he understood or at least assumed he understood Simon’s concerns. Did this display cause her pain? Did it leave her with less than she started? It was not his place but he felt something akin to pity to her for having to expend such power for them. She breathed and returned to her beautiful and young self and Artemis smiled, aware or at least believing that she was more than beautiful to the eye, that was secondary, she was Michaela and a beautiful person beyond the surface. The others had also come around and as Michaela told them to revel Artemis chuckled and nodded in agreement. He was about to turn and say something to Simon but instead found him gone, vanished in the illusion, and at this Artemis’ eyes narrowed to look into the distance for a sign of him. Perhaps there was more going on. The various Guardians had to pass him to leave and he smiled at them all and did consider pulling Michaela aside for a moment as the others began to revel, but thought better of it seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, it could wait.

And so Artemis just smiled and gently grasped her hand as she passed, giving it an endearing squeeze in a “you did good” kind of way; she didn’t need his approval, but he’d give it anyway. But he was unsure if he could join in the festivities, he had to finish proof reading the manuscript before it was too late or both his and the Isle’s finances would be penalties. However the longer he thought on it the more he realized he wasn’t going to sleep anyway and that he had very little left to do, so he decided to take a chance and moved to a near-by metal post that was stuck in the ground. Its official purpose was to hold a torch however Artemis had found a better use for them as he reached out to it. His hand enclosed the bar and before his skin actually touched it a fury of small sparks arced between his skin and the cold steel. His hand quickly grasped around it hard and silenced any sound associated with the sparks as his fist shook from the heat the bar grew to as he expelled his energy into the metal. The bar was grounded and soon his muscles on his forearm stopped throbbing and his grip relaxed as the twitching from the electricity that had flown through him ended. This was his standard ritual before making contact with his fellows toward the end of the day, he was always careful about where his power sat and tried to ensure that there was no stale energy within him to unconditionally expend without consent when he did make person to person contact.

So the night began and Aaron, God bless his soul, began the festivities and by the look on their faces he was probably using his abilities to grant music to the air. Artemis couldn’t hear it but he knew what he was doing from their fencing practice and the body language of the others. Artemis walked forward with purpose, careful not to miss the fun and moved to the group, he went to Xylea first, someone he knew well and got along with. As he passed toward her he moved behind Renn and with a tap on his head deliberately sent a small amount of static shock into his scalp, making his already spikey hair stand even more on end and giving Artemis a reason to grin mischievously at his friend as he passed. He walked right past Xylea at first but in his stride to cross her and his hand grasped hers to pull her up and along with him, “Up we go! Time to dance!” he told her as the music had finally reached him several strides back and pulled her into the fray with the others and a bright smile on his face. One would find it hard to believe if they were told of his past because he was so very good at putting his mind to other things and enjoying good times with friends. Perhaps it was because of his past he could do this.

The Girl In Rags
Tally felt truly entranced, at first she didn’t even realize what was happening but she realized soon that everything that was happening was magic and it was coming from Michaela. She didn’t fight it though, she relaxed and let the story take her away. She watched the images intently, she watched them sparkle, move, change and eventually fade. Once the images stopped, Tally was finally able to process what had just happened, what had just been said and what it meant. The magic part of the display unnerved her, the fact that Michaela could have Tally see what ever she wanted her to see disturbed her, Tally was defiantly not at piece with the whole magic thing. She didn’t really retain anything that had been said, listening for extended amount of time was not her forte, though she did file the speech away to think about later. The one thing she was thinking about though was the mention of a party, or something like that. After Michaela left, suddenly music started like magic, well, she supposed it was probably magic. People started dancing around the now lit bonfire and Tally was about to join in when she saw Soren trying to sneak off away from the gathering. Tally was not about to let her succeed in her attempt though and made her way over to the girl. She passed Vendi standing by himself, one the way flashing him a genuine, carefree smile and continuing onwards. She would have stayed to talk with him, as he was also new here and that made her feel more comfortable but she had to catch Soren before she left.

Soren hadn’t noticed her presence yet so taking advantage of the situation Tally spoke up first. “I won’t force you if you really want to leave, but I think you should at least dance a little bit before you leave. Trust me it’s really fun when you get into it” Tally sweetly with a slight happy smile. “So, Sinry, what will you choose because I’m going to go dance, and you are more than welcome to join me.”

Tally laughed lightly before turning away for Soren and moving towards the dancing hoping Soren was following but not looking behind; she wasn’t the type to force or pressure her into dancing. She wasn’t sure what Soren was going to do, sure she was trying to leave but Tally was sure she didn’t really want to leave. It didn’t matter if you had two left feet, or three or even four, dancing was something everyone could enjoy. If Soren did chose to leave though, Tally could live with that, she just wanted to make sure the girl had fully thought through what she wanted to do.

Tally moved further into the dancing. She had two left feet when it came to dancing but she didn’t let that stop her from joining in. She finally felt free, for the first time on this Isle she was in her element, she didn’t know anything about magic or all of that, but she did know how to have fun and enjoy herself.

Vendicare took a step back as Matt began to wander around the pyre they'd created, lighting it. It caught well and blazed forth, causing Vendi to scowl and take another step back. The blackening wood's scent drifted to him and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, memories that were just on the outside of his ability to remember tingled at the edges of his mind as he watched the oranges and reds flick against the deep brown, almost black wood. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, eyes boring into the fire, until something pulled him back to Michaela, the beautiful guardian.

From a young age, Vendi had always found the male form in all it's intricacy and power attractive. He'd admired men from afar, finding that a small thrill shot through him whenever one of these men approached him, though he'd never let himself outwardly reciprocate. He'd known that, without a doubt, men were remarkable creatures and he was drawn to them. As Michaela began to breathe slowly, her chest rising and falling, he found this same drawing force pulling him to her. Stepping forward once he felt his stomach form a tight ball as he curled his hands into fists, every molecule of his body seemingly screaming to run to her, grab her, hold her close. The heat of the fire washed against him and he blinked and shook his head, confused by his reaction he let his eyes wander and dropped to a crouch as the surreal feeling of floating struck him. The world as he knew it had disappeared and all that remained was him and Michaela. To say he was jarred would be an understatement. His brain began to fly, trying to understand what had happened, trying to put two and two together, grasping at ideas on how to escape whatever floating fortress he'd been transported to. He clenched his teeth as he prepared to run, when a calm washed warmly over him.

He scowled in confusion as his body slowly un-tensed, each sinewy muscle relaxing and returning to it's natural state. He stood slowly as his eyes found Michaela again and he found he couldn't look away this time. His mind refused to focus on anything but her and the light that radiated about her. Then it came to him, a soft whisper, a loud echo, a chill tidal wave, a snug bubble bath. Her voice. It enveloped him, vibrated within him, it told a story, described and explained as images dominated his vision. When the night around him split into five points, then again into different pictures, he found his eyes drawn to the four-legged and two-legged star patterns. He listened intently, the back of his mind storing away information, but it wasn't until Michaela's story turned to the Balaren that his ears truly perked up and he felt a tingle shiver down his spine as it did whenever his tail had wagged. He watched as the two figures morphed into what might have been terrifying images to some, but simply created a kinship deep in the center of his being. He watched as the two raised sights upwards and, although the howl was silent, could hear it within his soul. The call reached him as it had many nights over the past few years and he felt his larynx tremble at the urge to join in on their song, to lend his voice to the chorus. He withheld, but found himself nodding his head in return to their ethereal bows.

The tale came to a close and Vendicare's full body ached for more, just a tiny bit more, as the starry images dissipated. He turned to the Omarain guardian now, and listened carefully. He wasn't sure how he felt about "starting in earnest" tomorrow, especially having not technically "started" yet at all himself. He'd had so many unanswered questions upon arriving at the isle. Some had been answered by Michaela's lesson, but many more had risen. Had it been a month ago, his ears would have flattened back against his head. Expelling air, he looked to Matt when Michaela basically told the students to party. Matt's eyes caught Vendi's, and he could read them well enough to know that something important was to be learned tonight. He nodded in response to Matt's nod and watched in subtle awe as his mentor swiftly changed form and ran off into the woods. His gut instinct was to change and follow, but his attention was caught by a passing scent, sea water. Turning instinctively, his curious eyes caught a genuine smile from the girl he'd noted was as infantile to the isle as he was. The corner of his lip turned up ever so slightly in response as he nodded to her slowly.

He began to follow her with his eyes when movement to the left caught his attention. Instinctively tensing for the chase he looked over and realized that many of the other blood-children had begun to... dance. It was then that he fully realized a beat and female vocals had begun thumping through his head. He felt a momentary surge of excitement and cheerfulness float up his chest and he frowned. Vendicare tilted his head from one side to the other as he watched the dance in momentary confusion, then caught sight of the blonde Omarain. Whatever it was the fae's did made no sense to Vendi, he just knew that it probably had something to do with the bouncing boy and a tiny urge to dance bubbling in his stomach. Vendi quickly extinguished the urge, he did not dance, ever. Secure in his diagnosis of the situation, he settled; the party had begun then. He stood grounded, unsure what his next step should be, simply watching the group and debating what would be best. What he wanted to do was go and lay down in the grass and think. Or even to go for a good long run.

Footsteps approaching to his right and the faint scent of cigarettes had his attention away from the spectacle before the voice reached his ears, "Ello, Vendi. Fancy the show?" Vendi glanced sidelong at the one person he felt semi-comfortable talking to and smirked. "Piacere, Elvis." He nodded and uncrossed his arms, adopting the same pose of hands in pockets as a habitual "no threat" body language style. His rich Italian accent thick, he cocked an eyebrow, "I think it is... interesting?" He looked to Elvis full on now, "You are planning, non?"

We always have the rhythm here, in our blood and in our souls.

It was an uncomplicated song. Nothing in it called for elaboration, and so the faerie prince needed not do anything more than give in to it. In terms of blazing, his grin rivaled the bonfire as he cavorted with his friends, more and more of them as each bar of catchy, synthesized music went by. He was silly. Even faerie princes could afford to be silly, from time to time. His hips swung to bump up against Milo; releasing him, he lifted his arm and Seph’s up over head and led her through an unrehearsed walk around one another, every footfall conforming to the beat, the beat, the beat, the beat. That brought him near enough to Tally. He’s spotted her running off, and welcomed her back by shimmying towards her, his spine arching backward more and more with each tiny step until he was nearly doubled over. He looped himself underneath his and Seph’s arms before springing upright once more, only to find that his wolf-born dance partner was being stolen away. He didn’t mind at all, not so long as it meant another dancing body, another soul given over to the rhythm.

He busted some moves. That was really the only way to describe it. He was dancing with anyone and everyone within range, now, or really, more likely, not really dancing with anyone at all. For a while, he did the running man, knees coming up high, legs forming right angles, arms pushing out and then pulling in. Then it was The Twist, his feet pivoting back and forth as his arms swung at his side. He grape-vined his way past Milo when the boy wandered off, a smile of jubilous encouragement bowing his lips, rolling his arms in truly ABBA fashion as he went. There was some cabbage patch, some shuffling. Xylea’s encouragement nearly had him blushing (it was hard to tell, since his blood was pumping hard as a matter of course), and he slowed, never quite stopping, watching as she summoned a flurry of leaves about her and exalted in dance. He spun his way around Tally, hands in the air, and then brought them down again in order to vogue with Artemis and Xylea for a span before he was off again…

Seph was returned to him, and he embraced her in a hug, likely surprising her as he lifted her clear off the ground and twirled twice around before setting her on the ground again, just in time for the first song of the evening to abruptly end. He’d gotten so lost in the music that he’d hardly spared a thought toward choosing the next one.

The faerie prince was gleaming by firelight. The roaring fire warming the air and physical exertion conspired to soak his shirt and skin in sweat. With a flourish, he reached up to wipe his brow and catch his breath, sending a volley of glistening droplets off to splash against the earth.

”My Liege, might I request of thee a dance?”

Was it true or calculated, the way he seemed to have forgotten that Graham was there at all? He whirled to face him, grinning like sin with lips. He could hardly blame the demon prince for botching the style… My Prince or even Your Grace would have been preferable, but being his liege for the span of the next song would suit well enough. He half-bowed in courtly fashion as the slower intro proceeded, letting that be his reply. He slowly extended a hand toward Graham, letting it rise… but just as the beat picked up and the Mori reached for him, he snatched it away, smirking impudently and clasping his hands at the small of his back. Rising to the balls of his feet, he danced forward, using the four bars of energetic beats to circle around poor Graham twice, rising up nearly on point to pirouette perfectly, his right leg kicking out, on every down beat. He came to an abrupt stop directly in front of him, very close, facing him, and then took a single sliding step backwards as the vocals came in.

In what followed, Graham would be less a partner than a prop. The Mori was transformed into the anonymous “you” that the song spoke of, but in truth, Aaron would have been served equally well had his friend been born a sturdy pole on a raised stage instead of infernal royalty. This display was a far cry from his earlier enjoyment. Aaron’s eyes were half-lidded, his mouth a sultry curl. Every movement was enticing or enticed, as if lust itself had been clad in sweat-kissed flesh and set to prance about.



He twined their arms around himself, cutting out his singing as the chorus began. For its duration of, he was doing little more than swaying and grinding against his counterpart, eyes closed serenely but his lips still set in sexy bit of pout. His form undulated, sinuously rubbing against the taller boy’s. This Glamour was… different. Probably more uncomfortable to experience than the bubbly cheer he’d been strewing about before. It might not have made the other charges want him (though it certainly could), but it would very definitely make them feel the acute sting of want. Flushed and still sweating, he let himself be enfolded in Graham’s arms, forced them to enfold him, luxuriated in the almost obscene heat of their bodies pressed together, back to front, not a stone’s throw from the bonfire.

He’d somehow turned them around in the process, though, so that they were facing the cadre of hold-outs and booze-fetchers. His eyes snapped open, and a devious grin took his lips. Expressive as always, Aaron’s features communicated something very clearly: there’s still half a song left; give in to it, or you’ll leave me no choice.

“I won’t force you if you really want to leave, but I think you should at least dance a little bit before you leave. Trust me it’s really fun when you get into it” A voice suddenly presented itself to interrupt her thoughts. Not only was Sinry not expecting it, but it was Tally of all people. So Soren faltered in her step, freezing for a fraction of a second before regaining her footing and standing still.

The Evincal’s eye twitched lightly, and she wriggled the fingers of her right hand absently. I don’t dance. I can’t dance, I don’t want to dance, and it’s beyond awkward. I know that you don’t know me well at all, but I would have thought that such would be apparent. She thought silently towards her fellow dragon-born, watching her turn around and head back to the party.

Soren lingered for a few moments, her eyes scanning over the gathering and the people grouped around. She really didn’t want to remain in the area, especially as Aaron currently had free reign to use his Fae powers, which she despised most of all. With the arrival of alcohol however, she bit her lower lip, patting her pockets searchingly before nodding and quietly slinking back, a new plan forming in her head.

No, the necromancer was not going to be sticking around. Alcohol and large social gatherings were far beyond her, but she still crawled back over, hoping not to be engaged by anyone else as she gathered what she wanted. Without a word she came up by the small group clustered around the boxes and keg. Silently, she let out a breath of relief as no one else was really approaching yet.

Her fingers traced along the material of one of the lids before she popped it open from behind, her eyes quickly flickering over each individual bottle for the first letter on the labels. Her particular box was behind the keg stand, and it took probably four seconds before she found what she had been in quest for, and reached in, pulling out an entire bottle of rum, new and obviously unopened.

It was only luck that that particular alcohol had been hiding in the box, comfortably snug in the corner. Sinry backed away from the little area, walking mutedly towards another spot behind some random stonework in the area, her eyes scanning once more for one person in particular. Once having spotted him, she backed out into the darker portion of the clearing, away from the bonfire and circling in his direction.

Harvey just happened to be pretty occupied with at least three other people, so it would make her job immensely easier. Well, it still had a few bumps in it, but in a rough amount much smoother. Her lips were pressed together tightly as she walked up behind him, the rum unmoving in her left hand so it wouldn’t swish and make noise, even if the music Aaron had so… graciously bestowed was pretty loud and would most likely drown out any noises she made, it never hurt to be cautious with these things.

By the time she had finally gotten over there, most of his little group had dispersed, though still one or two lingered to keep his attention occupied, and if they couldn’t hold his attention, she was sure Aaron’s new little dance probably would.

Soren’s quick gaze came into play yet again, and she scanned over the backs and sides of his pants from her own position. Holding her breath, she leaned forward, allowing her lithe fingers to flicker into his back pocket, the space between her index and middle finger enclosing around his lighter just enough to get a grip on it and almost seamlessly pull back out. However, Sinry wasn’t an all too practiced thief, and the tips of her two fingers brushed fractionally against the fibers of the material, probably triggering the smallest of reactions in his body and alerting his brain to something being off. Or if he was sensitive anyway; he may not even care.

But by then she had the lighter sliding up with a bit of momentum, her thumb and pinky enclosing around it as well so it wouldn’t drop, and she turned, already walking away, her left hand angled so the rum was a bit more of a prominent vision point, just in case he looked up and around. “I’ll just borrow this.” A hushed whisper, holding her relief in it as well, slipped through her lips, already drowned out by the chatting and music of the party.

As she walked back out, heading towards the Ghostyard once more, someone caught her attention. She allowed a very frail yet sincere smile to present itself as she turned her head to better see him. Altering her course slightly, she walked over to Omar, slipping the newly lifted lighter into her front pocket and made a small wave towards him. “Hey Omar, wanna come to the Ghostyard and sit with me?” Her voice was somewhat soft and reserved, smooth and the tone only altering a few times in the span it took to say the sentence.

Her fingers tapped the glass of the bottle, her facial features showing that she was in thought, though a bit leaning to still hear his answer. She was tracing a figure along her right thigh in order to remember it. She had a plan to entertain herself, plus she might even get to lure those bloody wisps out of hiding, and the sooner the better.

Artemis enjoyed dancing with his partner; she was always bubbly and light, much like the air. Artemis had ensured he’d stayed in good shape from his youth and was not to be considered a weak young man, though never comparably to a Mori’s fierce daemon blood, and he easily lifted her light frame from the ground to meet him. Her hands were so soft and gentle, very much akin to the air she represented, but his hands were much different. She’d no doubt take notice beyond the smiling face and the chuckling laughter as they danced to feel the callous palms of his rough hands, though beyond that was the hardened skin on the top of his knuckles, a souvenir from his training. It was a physical reminder to them both of who he was, what had defined him over the years. But that the party was not the time for such thoughts and as he spun her in an outward laugh at her gracefulness he released and let her spin away like her spirit wanted, in a twisting display of elegance. His eyes followed her and brought his mind only to how lovely a creature she was when she danced. He blinked and the thought vanished, leaving the brilliant mind reeling as to where he had come up with that idea. It was true of course but why think that now?
-=-=-=-

Tally loved the vibe of the place which she felt she could sum up to Aaron. She watched in awe as he danced so easily, fluidly and yet so enchantingly, she had to respect him for his talent in dancing seeming her obvious lack of it. She giggled at Milo dance moves and had her attention stolen by Xylea’s little solo dance; it was truly mesmerizing. Tally couldn’t have taken the smile of her face right now if she wanted to. During the dancing and the music something inside Tally clicked; it didn’t matter if she refused to accept magic, she could accept these people, people who were human, just like her. The were fun, maybe some of them were a little different but she wanted to get to know them, be friends with them. While Tally was lost in her train of thought she didn’t see the movement coming towards her until the last moment. In her attempt to move out of the way though she stumbled over uneven ground and found herself being thrown towards the ground. Surprisingly though instead of finding herself on the ground she found herself on someone.

“Sorry... My bad.” Tally said lightly, while laughing slightly, hoping the person she had fallen wasn’t an angry person by nature.
-=-=-=-

Artemis didn’t really have time to think more on the why as at that moment he noticed another beautiful creature moving gracefully toward him. Tally was newer to the island and Artemis had only gotten to know her a few times during lessons, but he’d have never thought of her as clumsy. But apparently at times everyone falls and as he turned toward her she slipped her footing and fell toward him. As she fell Artemis knew there was no reason to dodge her, that would be rude, so he let his own fitting slip and fell with her, reaching up to grip her softly and as his back landed hard on the ground and slightly knocked the wind from him he was cautious to not lose focus and used his arms like shocks for her fall. Lowering her at a much slower rate and releasing her at the right moment to ensure that their heads would not clash. He was unable to suppress the slight grimace at his falling flat on his back, but it was momentary as he shifted that gritted teeth moment into a giggling smile.

“Well hello there.” He commented still not worried about who he had caught, he wasn’t too concerned about having a guy laying on top of him at that moment, no guy was that light or smelled so… intoxicating? Once again he had to curse his mind for wandering into unknown places as he blinked and looked to find Tally still lying across him, his face showed apparent shock as he blinked but again his smile shown through, “Oh! It’s you! What a pleasant surprise…” through some happenstance, he was unsure how, his hands had ended up coming to rest at her waist. That realization had yet to dawn on him though.
-=-=-=-

Tally found herself looking at Artemis and smiled brightly at him although a little bit flushed, she swore she wasn’t usually clumsy and falling over people. He smiled at her but the way he had landed on his back must have hurt, meanwhile she wasn’t hurt at all thanks to him. “Yep it’s me...” Tally replied to him. Though trailing of at the end when she realized the rather awkward situation they had landed in with Artemis’ hands resting on her waist. She blushed slightly and looked away, feeling uncomfortable. She was not a girl to make a big deal out of what she saw to be a small thing though. She rolled off of Artemis, careful not to inflict any more damage on the poor boy before jumping up to her feet. She momentarily felt reluctant to leave her position on the ground but dismissed the though quickly feeling stupid that it had appeared in her head. Laughing lightly she extended her hand to help Artemis up. “Pleasant isn’t really the right word, it think it may have been nicer if we were standing up.” Tally said down to him. She was happy to have bumped into him though, she just wished it was like all other normal people, you know, standing up. “Thank you so much though, I am very sorry you’re not hurt are you?” She decided to tack on the end sincerely.
-=-=-=-

As they had landed Artemis was inches from her face as she was from his and in that moment several thoughts raced through his mind. Things that this time he was sure weren’t really his own thoughts. But he put those aside and released her as she rolled off of him. One thought that slunk through reaches of his brain screamed at him not to let her up, to remain close as they were but he stifled it. That was [b[definitely[/b] not him. The more he thought on these urges the more they came with a slight rust to his mind like a small stinging buzz in his ear. He finally knew what was up and glanced at the fae nearby, “Aaron really needs to thinks before using that sometimes…” he commented lightly about this point Tally was thanking him and he came out of his distracted mind and glanced up at her. “Oh, don’t worry so much; I’m a bit tougher than that, Tally.” He might have realized he had been rude to drift off during her apology, or maybe that he should probably stop lying around to talk to her, but he was a Navarene and these nuances of tact were few and far between for him.

Though after a few no doubt awkward moments he did swiftly stand up with a blush, “Sorry, my mind is all over the place tonight… for example… would you like to dance?”
-=-=-=-

Artemis got up off the ground a little bit after her and asked Tally to dance, she didn’t have to think about it for even a moment. She did take a few minutes to stomp on the fluttery feeling she felt in her stomach though. “Of course” Tally responded with a smile, grabbing his hand and moving back into the dancing. After a few beats she looked up at Artemis, he seemed to be having fun. Tally’s thoughts probably stayed on him too long, she probably should have been concentrating on the dancing. When she realized that he probably thought she was socially awkward for staring at him she looked away and tried to play it off with a laugh. Her gaze caught the bonfire that some of the other charges had built that was now alight. The flames dancing were bright in contrast to the night sky. She felt the feeling people often talked about, you know, the one about it drawing you in but if you get too close you’ll get burned. She tried not to, but subconsciously she was applying the analogy to her dance partner. She did attempt reminding herself that she wouldn’t be staying in touch with any of these people once she left though. After a few beats she turned vision back to Artemis with cheerful smile. “So other than the whole awkward, falling over thing, have you been enjoying yourself?”
-=-=-=-

Artemis was certainly enjoying his company, he had been fighting against himself for strange thoughts of desire in a manic inner struggle of mal content with his own mind yet having noticed the subtle evidence of a Glamour his relaxed more. The Glamour was not hard to break, probably because it wasn’t directed at him, and so Artemis just had to keep a small part of his mind dedicated to remembering that little desire was being forced upon him and he could resist. Of course this glamour, no matter how little power was to be put into it, was still going to be difficult for him as rather than create a new feeling within him he knew it did little more than bring his own inner want to the surface. “So other than the whole awkward, falling over thing, have you been enjoying yourself?” tally’s light voice broke his concentration and he felt the desire growing again as he looked into her eyes. But he swiftly regained his mental footing and pushed it away.

“Of course, great company makes for a great time.” He stopped dancing a moved to the edge of the plot again, sitting down with a smile while looking at her still, “If I’ve learned anything over the years it’s that while you should keep a wary eye on the future you can only live in the present.” He breathed out a bit and rubbed his neck, which was stiff from the day but wouldn’t bring down his smile. “This night is for us to have fun, and even though Michaela said tomorrow would be hard you shouldn’t worry about it, because we’ll have nothing but aches from tomorrow, but tonight we’ll have memories... and those can keep you going in the worst of times.”

The Girl In Rags
Tally smiled at Artemis’ response, the whole ‘having fun tonight and worrying about tomorrow when it came’ summed up almost everything she stood for. Her thinking did come to a halt when he mentioned Michaela’s speech about tomorrow being hard though. The guardian's speech had completely left Tally’s mind the moment the dancing had begun, but now that she thought back on it Michaela had said something about challenges. Tally smiled through that thought though; she didn’t know what it was going to be like and tomorrow she would find out. She felt that this was more than enough information for her.

Tally looked back to Artemis when she had noticed he had finished talking, she blushed a little knowing she hadn’t been completely paying attention. “Yeah, the whole live for today because tomorrow can wait. Ironically, being a diviner and all, I agree completely. The future should stay an unknown factor and you should enjoy what you have now.” Tally said, barely more than a whisper. Smiling at all the right places and keeping her tone friendly though she couldn’t help a slight sad undertone edging it’s way in.

Tally eyed the spot on the ground next to Artemis, she wanted to join him and talk more but she felt strange, unnatural. Like if she sat next to him she couldn’t guarantee that was all she would do. She felt a strange want for the boy in front of her, she had felt the feeling before, deep down and diluted but never like this. The feeling felt alien to her, unnatural and she felt like there was magic at play, she looked around at all the other charges. She thought that it was probably glamour making her feel this way but she still didn’t really know what that meant. Was it hard to fight the effects of glamour?

Tally was not going to risk it and make an idiot out of herself though; she wasn’t sure how the whole ‘I was manipulated by glamour’ defense would hold up. Her eyes looked up scanning the movement and activity of the other charges that had stuck around. Luckily, it didn’t take long for her to find what she has looking for. She looked back down at Artemis with a smile. “It was great talking and dancing with you, but I think I’m going to go say hello to Hazel over there.” She said in what she hoped was a sweet manner while motioning over to where Hazel was seated. She didn’t really want to leave him and she didn’t want to lie to him even more. The actual truth of; ‘I’m leaving because at this moment I want to do much more than dance and talk with you’ was not something she was going to say though. Technically it also wasn’t a lie though, Tally fully intended to go and talk to Hazel. Hazel is friendly and enthusiastic which Tally liked and appreciated, besides the girl looked down, Tally didn’t know her all that well but she didn’t seem like the one to miss a party.

When Tally had almost passed Artemis when she quickly looked back at him. “I do hope to talk to you later though,” she said almost to enthusiastically, she just didn’t want him to think she wanted nothing to do with him. She honestly did want to spend more time with him, just when whoever was doing the glamour thing had dried up their magic source or however fae-blood magic worked. Tally then started to wander slowly and almost aimlessly towards Hazel. When she saw Fleet talking to the blonde though she stopped in her tracks, three's a crowd, she thought to herself not wanting to interrupt them. She gave Hazel an awkward half wave thing noting to herself to talk to blonde later before making her way over to the alcohol that had recently arrived. She eyed the different bottles before deciding to just grab a bottle of beer and see how it turned out for her. She took a slow mouthful watching all the other charges enjoying themselves, taking a moment to absorb it all.

Hazel continued to listen to the up beat, party style music. She rubbed her hands together and shivered a bit. Her hair being a bit damp still she was a bit chilly, even though if you asked anyone else in the Isle, they would probably say the weather was perfect. But Hazel had a thing for being cold when its hot and hot when its cold. It was one the oddities that she possessed, but wasn't quite as noticeable as some.

She wrapped her black leather jacket around herself more and looked down at the ground playing with some grass. She looked up and saw the Navarene Guardian who had summoned them all to the meeting and now party, raise his hand to her and give her a friendly smile. Fleet walked over to her and stood over her and looked out into the crowd. ”We had a party here once before, but it was nothing like this,” He began to say. ”Can I sit with you? I didn’t think you’d mind, since you aren’t dancing with anyone or talking to anyone, but if you mind, that’s alright too.” He asked as he awkwardly stood over her.

Hazel didn't want to be rude and say no, but she also didn't want to say no. She had been hoping for one person to talk to. Hazel smiled kindly up at him and replied, [color=red]"No I don't mind. Thank you for asking Fleet. So is your ability like an air thingy?" She smiled sweetly at him. Hazel patted the ground next to her and grinned. She glanced at the crowd and saw Tally about to come over as well. Then Tally saw that Fleet had beat Tally to Hazel and Tally began to walk to the alcohol. Hazel grinned at Tally in a friendly way and waved over to her. She then brought her attention back to Fleet again and smiled at him.

”That’s great! That you don’t mind, I mean. And my power isn’t like an air thingy, it is an air thingy! He dropped himself down into a crouch beside her, not actually sitting. He didn’t like sitting, especially not against a wall. He liked to have open space all around him, so he was just to her side, maybe six inches from the wall, but angled to face her. He bounced a bit on his heels and rested his arms across his thighs. ”I can do all kinds of stuff with air.” Her question had utterly derailed the story he’d been about to tell about the last party on the Isle. His mind only had room for so many topics at once- well, one topic at once, really. He was smiling though, quite enthused. ”I’m not sure what would be like an air thingy. Maybe a water thingy? That’s kind of like an air thingy, because liquid is more like gas than solid. I guess fire is kind of like air too, except it EATS air, and I don’t like that.” His eyes narrowed, and he gave the bonfire a dirty look, as if it might have offended him somehow. If any actual person had ever managed to offend Fleet, it had gone unmentioned and undocumented.

He saw her wave, and followed her eyes to Tally. He waved at her as well, lifting his right arm from his thigh and flapping it dramatically at the Evincal girl. Quite suddenly, his cheery grin wilted, turning into a heart-breaking frown. ”The Navarene Guardian was a Water-Touched. Her ability was like an air thingy, because it was a water thingy. I miss her all the time, when I remember to.” Despite it having been explained to him several dozen times that he was, in fact, the current Navarene Guardian, the Wind-Touched still didn’t quite seem to grasp it. His gaze dropped to the dirt in front of him, but then he lifted his head and tilted it, regarding Hazel. ”Wasn’t it sad when all those things Michaela made went away? I don’t like being sad.”

Just like that, he wasn’t. As if someone had flicked a switch connected to his mouth, he was smiling again. ”I’m glad we’re having a party. We had a party here once before, you know. It was nothing like this though. It was when Matt and Arietta got engaged. There was a lot of yelling, I hope there isn’t a lot of yelling tonight.” He shook his head. ”Yelling is just being sad except louder, s’far as I can tell.” He reached down with his left hand and extended his finger, drawing a frowny-face in the dirt.



He’d forgotten about the chocolate bar entirely while the Omarain Guardian made her presentation. By the time it was over, what remained of it was half-melted all over his hand, done in by his own body heat and that of the bonfire roaring nearby. A scowl had developed on his lips, washing away any traces of awe that would otherwise have been left over from the illusions she’d conjured. He’d become preoccupied with the standing wolf-creature, the one that towered over everything else but the sorrowful dragon. If he could become something like that…

But he couldn’t. His lycanthrope blood was thin. His war-shape was a paltry imitation of the monster that the faerie woman had showed them. That was the stuff of nightmares. No wonder humans were so afraid of werewolves, even after how ridiculously they’d been portrayed for years in the media.


All of that, and then the announcement, like it was some kind of gift or something, that they were going to have a party. Can we just skip to the training? he wanted to ask. He was sick of laziness. Running around the forest was fun and all, but he wanted to see what he could really do with his gifts. He’d sized up all of the other charges and found them wanting, save for very few.

He lifted his hand to his mouth and began to lap it clean of chocolate. An involuntary twinge went through him when Aaron’s music began. He quickly looked anywhere but at the Omarain. He’d learned before that it was easier to not feel anything he didn’t want to if he wasn’t actually looking at him, especially when he was dancing. The catchy little tune cut right into his brain, and he nearly growled as he quickly chomped down the rest of his chocolate bar and shot to his feet. The movement of shadows and his peripheral vision told him that a group was forming up to dance, but apparently he wasn’t the only one who didn’t intend to get his groove on.

Where had Matthew gone? He’d missed him taking off, whenever that had been. Matthew was about the only person around who he actually had any respect for. He looked around for his next favorites. Elvis was being taken by Renn somewhere, the only Balaren competition he had was going with them… His looking around meant glancing Aaron’s way, and for the brief instant that his eyes skimmed over that blond, dancing form, he felt his pulse trying to conform to the beat of the song, felt his fingers begin to tap away on his thigh to the rhythm. No, he told himself, his voice in his mind a guttural growl. His body and mind were his own. He wasn’t going to submit to the charms of Glamour unless he wanted to, and he decidedly did not want to.

By the time he was through wrestling for control and imagining Aaron with a pair of wolfish jaws clamped around his neck (not killing him or anything, just forcing him to be still and silent for once in his life), Elvis was back. Wynston turned and headed toward where they were setting up the alcohol. His features were practically blank as he approached in his dirt-and-grass stained clothing. He nodded to Elvis, and then nodded even more slightly to Renn, and then finally initiated a stare-down with Vendicare. He wasn’t going to break it, so it would be up to the Italian Balaren to do so… or to move the challenge up to the next level, the level where someone ended up on their back or their belly. Wynston was fine with either result.

Seph didn't even warrant a glance. She might as well not have been nearby, for all the attention he seemed to pay her. He was vaguely aware that she was talking, that she moved off to speak to the asshole Omarain, but he didn't need to acknowledge her existence to know that.

Tally scurried away, and Artemis had a strong urge to chase after her, pull her close and, he shook his head while casting a glare at Aaron, “You’re causing trouble there mate…” he commented but doubted anyone would hear him. But, having gotten himself settled he just sat back and watched the others for a bit. They were all having great fun so Artemis decided to let them be for the moment and headed off toward the fortress interior. He returned a few minutes later with several boxes and left again in the same direction, after a few trips he’d retrieved a table, several plates of party foods and snacks, some non-alcoholic beverages, and his last trip consisted of a cooler, and a bag of ice slung over his shoulder. This was abnormal as typically the Isle was rather strict on supplies, but Artemis had made a point to catalogue what he’d take and would allocate more to the food budget to make up for it, Michaela had told them to enjoy themselves and he could tell from the look on several faces that many were probably getting hungry, dancing and just generally being up later than usual was no doubt to blame.

He laid out the fare on the fold out table next to the beverages and the alcohol and retrieved some plastic table ware from the first two boxes he’d brought and then just stepped away, letting the ravenous teens at it as they say, though he grabbed a few finger sandwiches himself before moving over to get a beer. He didn’t normally drink; he just had a Yingling (he kept a stash in his dorm) with Simon every now and then, maybe Renn if the other young man needed to unwind. The brand here was not his favourite but it would do for a buzz, and that was the point of drinking after all, that and socializing. His strange mind went to work as he took a bite of one of the sandwiches wondering why all this food and drink had been so easy to find, and why the kitchens had been unlocked. Maybe it was just Fleet had unlocked it but why had the prepared foods been ready? A smile crossed his face as he instantly recognized that someone, probably Michaela, had intended for this. Hell, she might have even implanted the idea of gathering the food for the party in his head during her display, as he’d been contemplating it subconsciously for a while, “Check and Mate.”

Artemis hadn’t really re-joined the others yet but as Seph came over and tried some beer he took note of her, she was newer to the island compared to most of Artemis’ friends and they didn’t speak much socially beside a kindly hello in the hallway, still he knew her name, much like he knew of most of the new arrivals, and he couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle at the face she made at her no doubt first drink of alcohol, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” he asked with a nonchalant grin, clearly he really couldn’t care less about that, “It’s not the best tasting, but it’s the effects most are after…” he was careful to be lack and seemingly sluggish when talking to her, having learned that she was a Baleran he knew much about how body language spoke volumes for regular people and could only imagine someone who could change to a form with almost all communication being non-vocal. He had noted that she seemed skittish around him, and so he was careful not to give her any cause for concern.

He couldn’t help but follow her eyes over to Harvey and Something coming their way. Something was a kind enough person form the look of her, but Harvey, he was someone who gave Artemis pause. He was cautious around all like him, but that guy particularly rubbed him the wrong way second only to Markus. Artemis stood a little straighter. Harvey might not have seen Artemis near Seph before, after all he had been sitting a few minute s prior across the yard and after that bringing out food. He had no doubt his presence would not give the man pause over causing trouble, but if Artemis was nearby he could keep an eye on it.

Girl In Rags

Tally finished her beer and looked around at all the other charges; some had left the courtyard, some standing around talking and others still dancing, though she wasn’t sure how. The short amount of dancing she had done before had already worn her out enough for one night. She caught Aaron’s eye and when she saw his smile directed at her she flashed a carefree one back. Tally’s eyes then wandered to Harvey being soaked with alcohol with Steph to thank. Steph ran off immediately after though, turning into her wolf form and entering the forest. Tally wanted to follow her and make sure she was okay but she could never catch up with the wolf. Likewise She wasn’t all that close enough with Steph to go charging after her.

Tally looked back over at The group that had formed. Though she strained her ears she couldn’t hear what was said next. She put down her empty bottle and was about to move towards them when she felt a small unnatural breeze to her right. Looking over her shoulder, Tally saw Fleet digging into the sandwiches. Deciding not to get involved in whatever was sure to play out; she moved closer to the youngest Guardian.

“I love this hat of yours.” Tally said, a light smile lighting up her features while she tapped Fleet’s hat twice. Fleet seemed right at home in this atmosphere, bobbing along to Aaron’s music. Stealing one of his sandwiches as she went, she kept walking past him though. As she walked the tune in her head ended and a new one started up. Looking up at Aaron Tally had to wonder where he got his choice of music from, and how he had so many songs kept in that mind of his. Smiling slightly to herself she contented herself with answering all her questions with same fact. That it was Aaron she was talking about. Tally had only been here awhile and yet she already knew there was something strange about that boy. An interesting strange though. She popped the sandwich she had stollen from Fleet into her mouth and waved at Xylea who had appeared with a box oranges.

Tally moved away from the alcohol and food as she approached Hazel. “Hey, how are you?” Tally said, genuinely smiling at the Omarain. It wasn’t hard to for her to be genuine to Hazel either. The blonde was always just so easy to be around; always happy, lively and cheerful. Tally looked around the courtyard for a moment, thinking back to the figures that had appeared in Michaela’s little show. It was hard to believe that those things were where these strange abilities they all possessed came from. Evincal more than most, Tally defiantly didn’t feel even slightly like a dragon, dragons always seemed so violent and powerful. She defiantly didn’t feel that to be an accurate representation of her, or at least she hoped so. Looking back at Hazel, Tally continued, “Did you enjoy the show?”

Hazel was swallowed by a gust of wind and she looked around a bit interested in its power, knowing that it was certainly from Fleet. She noticed how embarrassed she had made him. ”Oh I’m not sad, I’m not, don’t you worry, not at all.” He laughed awkwardly, as if all he wanted to do was run away from her. ”Oh look, Artemis brought finger sandwiches. I bet they don’t have any fingers or sand or witches in them!” Then he quickly sped off to get some food.

Hazel called out to him, "Wait, Fleet! I'm sorry..." She dropped her head feeling guilty about her actions. She didn't mean to make him awkward or embarrassed in any way.

Suddenly Tally, came over and smiled at her happily. She smiled back at her as she asked, “Hey, how are you?” Hazel smiled softly at her and replied, "Oh, I'm good, I think I embarrassed Fleet though." She bit her lip and couldn't help, but look over at the Wind Touched.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Tally then asked her. Hazel tried to brighten up her mood and grinned big at Tally. She then said happily, "Oh yes, yes, I did. It was quite enjoyable. I hope to master that level of power in my own illusions soon. But sadly this is about all the 'alive' illusion I can create right now." And at that moment, Hazel pointed her finger at Tally's feet, which she created an illusions of a small bunny hoping around in circles around Tally. Hazel smiled as she made two more bunnies appear at Tally's feet.

The Girl In Rags

"Oh, I'm good, I think I embarrassed Fleet though." Hazel was looking over at Fleet and it left Tally wondering what the blonde had done, though she had to laugh a little. Fleet looked many things but he defiantly did not look embarrassed, especially not when he was filling up his plate with more finger sandwiches. Which were actually surprisingly good, Tally thought while thinking back to the sandwich she had previously. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, I think your going to be hard pressed to get that guy too worked up.” Tally replied turning back to Hazel with a slightly teasing smile on her face. It was the truth though, she honestly believed Fleet didn’t keep a thought for long enough to be affected by it.

"Oh yes, yes, I did. It was quite enjoyable. I hope to master that level of power in my own illusions soon.” Hazel brighten up considerably and Tally was glad about it; sad didn’t work on this girl. Though they both seemed to get completely different thought patterns from Michaela’s show, surprisingly Hazel seemed to be a determined hardworking type. That was something Tally hadn't expected, she thought she already had the blonde's personality down pact. “Wow, that’s what you got out of it?” She replied lightly, being that good at illusions seemed like heaps of work, that Tally believed added to nothing. “But sadly this is about all the 'alive' illusion I can create right now." Hazel then pointed to ground at Tally’s feet and suddenly she saw a small bunny hoping around her feet. A few moments later two more joined it and when Tally looked up she saw the blonde smiling at her illusions.

Something about the whole thing made Tally uncomfortable though, the fact that she was seeing something that her mind said wasn’t there, unnerved her. That and she still wasn’t comfortable with the whole magic thing at all yet. Unconsciously she nervously shuffled back a little bit. Laughing slightly at her idiocy though she picked her head up and looked at Hazel again. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘only,’ it’s better than I can do at least,” Tally said sincerely. “Besides everyone has different talents, and I suppose they’re also quite cute too.” She bent down to inspect the bunnies, as if looking for the behind the scenes trick that made it work. “Not too bad for a fairy,” She said with a teasing wink.

”Do they have this kind of thing a lot?” Tally asked suddenly as she glanced around the party. She thought that if this happened a lot she might actually enjoy her time here. Partying and socializing were what she preferred to spend her time doing rather than learning magic and casting voodoo spells. “I mean the whole party thing?” Tally clarified, suddenly realizing how weird and out of the blue her previous question must have sounded to Hazel.