Artemis Hulston'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.

Artemis was not difficult to find, he was where he always was, sitting under the wide awning that covered his table and chair in the Garden. Of course the term his may be a misnomer as that implies his procession of it however it was more or less his own in the minds of most due to the substantial amount of time he spent in it. He was, as was his custom, simply sitting there, a small tape recorder on the table and his eyes glancing lightly through the rife of paper that he held in his hand with a fountain pen in the other. He made small notes on several sheets as he read quietly and contently to himself yet this was not a forgone notion as normally he would think aloud to himself or anyone that would listen but to the contrast of custom.

His silence could easily be attributed to several things each more varied than the last and spanning everything from his skipping breakfast to the abnormally dark circles under his eyes form lack of sleep or due to his slightly irritated brow that while relaxed and subversive now had for the most part of the morning been furrowed in frustration at something. Whatever the reason for his silence it remained as he continued to quietly read over his pages, forcing concentration on the material in his hand. This was not he favourite activity, rather to the contrary this was his least, he always loathed reading over the editors manuscript of his works.

The pages were all neatly stacked and bound simply with six through ties of brass, a classic manuscript, the pages in a small courier type seemingly spaced to be devoid of all emotion, he always hated these manuscripts but that was the publishing world, it lacked the intricate nuances that the work itself exposed to the world in its painfully industrious efficiency. Thankfully his contract permitted him some choice on the final products font and spacing, he’d have to determine that before the final draft was due.

“Damn.” He cursed as he took the pen’s cap from his mouth and made several marks on a page near the rear quarter of the manuscript, “I like that dialogue… I don’t care if it’s grammatically incorrect… editors.” He mentally made note to ensure that he got the chance to talk with his editor again, the first time he was being scouted for publishing the editor had read several of his more grammatically sparse dialogue exchanges with a sneer and made a point to chastise Artemis for them.

”Have you even been through middle school kid?” the man had asked, forcing Artemis to stifle a frown and several memories, the short answer was no of course.

“Well uh… I was just taking a, umm… a literary license.” Artemis had explained with more than one nervous gesture.

The elder woman glanced up over the brims of her reading glasses causing Artemis to gulp at the time due to her rather imposing nature, “Hemingway had a literary license… you’ve got a learners permit.” That was her most memorable rebuttal that caused him to smile even now.

“Wonder if I’ve graduated yet?” he muttered aloud, of course one would hear it, that one being Fleet, who had just arrived to inform Artemis of a meeting in the Courtyard. Unfortunately the gust of air caused Artemis to leave a streak across his notations before the air blew the page he was on away making him lose his place. However, rather than get frustrated he breathed out and nodded to allow the very dedicated Guardian to move on, Artemis knowing he wouldn’t until he was sure that he had been heard. “Got it, be there in a few moments.” With a smile cast to the man before he left Artemis managed to keep up the façade long enough for no one to see the furrowing of his brow as he looked at the manuscript. He’d intended to finish proofreading it that evening so as to afford a day to himself tomorrow, though with this interruption he highly doubted that would still be possible.

Artemis arrived in his typical garb of levis lean cut jeans (dark wash, matching belt shoes, a button down white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a simple brown vest to match his black shoes. After arriving a few moments following Aaron and the others he moved gently through the aft grouping of charges to settle nearest his preferred Guardian, Simon. He smiled and greeted a few without making a scene before moving to stand near the back closer to the other Guardians, more specifically he leaned against a nearby tree adjacent to Simon. He caught the exchange, something those who were less adjusted to the Isle might miss, and his brow furrowed yet again. However Artemis was no fool, far from it, and knew not to question it, not here, not now. Yet as the head of the island made such theatrics he had to wonder if it was at all necessary to be so flamboyant for a story. Even for an Omarian? “Insert ironic joke here.” He muttered to himself as he thought of the catch twenty two of an author judging flamboyant storytelling. He couldn't help but blink several times as her power washed over him, he hated the fact that it clouded his rampant thoughts, but he relaxed knowing the futility of resistance and just let the stroy begin.

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.

He caught the keys in one swift motion, nodding to Michaela as she left. The keys she'd provided only went to a few select things, things that Renn wasn't sure the charges needed on a night that they'd have to wake up in the morning - early no doubt, but it wasn't his call to make. In addition, Fleet would be staying as well, so he wouldn't be alone in helping maintain the peace between them and ensuring everyone had a pleasant, safe evening.

As if trying to wake him from his thoughts, or just his own way of a friendly gesture, Artemis had made his way behind him, waking him with his touch. Renn laughed a bit, looking over his shoulder at his friend as passed because it had tickled in a sense - and now his hair was shocked and ready for a party. Perhaps it was that reason he'd done it. Had he messed it up back there on the beach with Darcy? Darcy... There would no doubt be a point in the evening in which Renn would get Artemis back - maybe he'd raise a piece of the ground just to trip him or something. Nothing dangerous. He wasn't sure, but the game was on.

As he turned on his heel, Renn had apparently been oblivious to the people who'd sprung in to dance. While he understood the notion as an entertaining passtime, it wasn't in his ... Well, he certainly wouldn't be joining without some alcohol. -- Speaking of, Elvis seemed to be on the same page as he overheard, "Oh no. No, no, no. I dont do parties unless hard liquor is involved.". Watching Elvis move, he found himself next to Vendicare. Renn had no problem with either of them, as he knew the pair just about as much as he bothered to get to know anyone, but there was a first for everything, and with someone with two solid feet on the ground, it wasn't as if he lived off of their approval. He headed in their direction, nodding up at the pair to get their attention with a jingle of the keys in his hand.

"I don't do parties without the alcohol either." He'd heard the thick Italian accent respond to whatever Elvis had spoken to him, but he shook the thought to intervene from his mind. It didn't matter. "Come help me lift all of it out here, yeah?"

With that, he breezed past the bunch with (hopefully) the pair behind him for additional heavy lifting. They'd passed Darcy on the way, and Renn offered her a smile only to be matched with... Well, whatever it was, he hadn't expected it. Was everything okay? Was he supposed to be reading in to this? Was it nothing? Fuck this social barrier.. It wouldn't matter anyway. After a few drinks in him, he could loosen up and.. Well, he'd never been drinking after his power's awakening. Who knew what could happened?

They found their way through the darkened kitchen and Renn flipped on the lights so they could make their way to the walk-in fridge. Upon entrance, there was a metal door that led to a cellar of sorts. You could see everything on the inside from the fridge, as it was barred like a jail. One could see exactly what they wanted before the lock clicked open and allowed passage, and once it did, Renn found himself at least three different kinds of tequila, whiskey, and a box to fit it all in. Once that box was filled, he pointed over to a keg so that one of the other two could grab it. Behind it was a rack of bottles - various wines, maybe some more liquor, he wasn't sure but with their addition, there was certainly more than enough to entertain the party tonight.

After the three men juggled who would carry what, they brought it out, locked the door behind them, and made their way back to the party. Renn's voice called out like the announcement of an earthquake, the ground hardening beneath them to grab their attention after a few staggered here and there. "Listen up! You heard what Michaela said... Tomorrow we'll all be training more intensely than those of us who have been here for a while will have ever performed. What you do tonight sets the tone for the new lives we lead tomorrow. Handle this information with care.- With that in mind... Have a great evening! We are the Bloodlines!"

His moment of attention came and went as quickly as he'd demanded it. He set up the keg for the easiest dispersement for others, scattered the bottles and various drinks on a nearby table barrel or two, and then left it sitting there. Thanking the pair who'd helped him before taking his leave, he made his way from the others beginning to gather at the alcohol to a corner across the way. Isolated, watching, and calm. That's what he wanted, but as he watched the others enjoying themselves and the others that would head for the alcohol, he couldn't help but wonder:

Will we even wake up tomorrow?

Xylea was aware on the peripheral edges of her mind that someone other than Michaela had spoken to her, but she couldn't bring herself to respond. She was enraptured by Michaela's Glamour, allowing herself to be pulled in farther with every passing moment. A beautifully energetic smile bubbled to life on her face as the world around her faded away and all that remained were the bodies of students and guardians alike, seemingly orbiting in space. The stars all twinkling around her held her attention as she rolled onto her back and let her eyes un-focus on the universe. Letting her arms fall wide, she imagined an alien ship floating through orbit, pausing momentarily to take in the new developement in its domain: a floating gaggle of magical students. Laughing to herself, she reached out, trying to touch the stars above her and found she couldn't quite reach them causing her to frown. Then they started to shift, to change, to morph, and Xylea gasped in excitement, remembering Michaela and her speech she quickly flopped back onto her stomach, diligently watching the show.

She tried to pay attention to each of the quick histories Michaela mentioned, she really tried, but her eyes kept drawing back to a grouping of stars that whirled around itself near it's quartet. She couldn't help herself, it was just so wispy and pretty. She wanted to swirl, it beckoned, begged her to swirl with it. She giggled again, and waved to it with wiggly fingers, ecstatic because she somehow knew that it saw her too, and that it loved her. She had only vaguely listened to Michaela, so she wasn't entirely sure why the quartet made a show of respect to the students but she smiled at it in 'thanks'. Tilting her head to one side, she watched as all the pretty star patterns became more solid, more real, then disappeared. Startled out of her dream world, she looked to Michaela now, but had an increasingly hard time paying attention as her skin had begun zinging, pinging. She could feel all her tiny molecules bouncing about within her and she relished the feeling, closing her eyes. The only other time she'd felt this was when she'd gotten her hands and feet to dissipate into the air around her. Something told her it wouldn't have been appropriate at this moment, so Xylea bit her lip to hold in her joyful tinkle of laughter.

Just as abruptly as the prickling of her skin had begun though, it ended. Pouting, Xylea looked around to see if anyone else had noticed and was completely confused by how many people were standing. Looking back to where the guardians were, her eyebrows shot up, they were gone! All of them! Where had they gone? When had they gone? More importantly, could she go get some ice cream? Curiously she glanced at the Compound considering her options. Just as she'd come to the conclusion on exactly what flavor she wanted (blue bubblegum with chocolate sprinkles and marshmallow sauce) the music began and Xylea giggled, ice cream thoughts gone in an instant. She wiggled her shoulders as she lay on her back, a goofy, duck-lipped, playful scowl crossing her face. The very picture of youthful enjoyment, she threw her arms above her head and started wiggling all over: toes, fingers, nose. She didn't question the reason she'd suddenly been filled with happiness, she simply embraced it and let its warmth radiate through and around her as she wiggled on the ground. Raising her arms to the sky she closed her eyes yet again and hummed along to the rhythm happily.

"Up we go! Time to dance!" Xylea gave a tiny gasp of surprise as she felt strong hands grasp hers and a pleasant tingle shoot down her arms, warming her. Without opening her eyes she knew who it was and allowed Artemis to pull her up to standing. He was strong, and she was light, so not only did she come to stand in front of him, but she momentarily floated skyward, just past where her toes were on the ground. Smiling beautifully she enjoyed the slower-than-normal descent back to earth. She opened her eyes then and looked at Artemis, reflecting his bright smile with her own high-wattage grin. "Dancing's my favorite!" The words came out bubbly and light as she let him lead for a moment, gliding along with him. Had anyone been paying close attention, they would have noticed her feet had still not fully come back in contact with the ground as she flowed around. Xylea's focus stayed on Artemis longer than was normal under the circumstances for it wasn't one shiny thing pulling her attention but a plethora of interesting moments happening all around her. So she bopped along to the movement, enjoying the tiny static jolts that tingled along her palms when she touched his. Artemis lifted one of her hands above her head and, guiding her, began a spin. Obligingly, Xylea whirled about in a circle, letting the wind play with her hair. She luxuriated in the wind tickling through her tresses, and followed her new dance partner in a twirl away from Aaron.

Graceful and dexterous, her seemingly solo dance would have made Aaron proud. She felt the familiar rush of air as she tugged on the wind, pulling autumn leaves and dandelion sprigs toward her. The natural confetti she'd created floated around her and twirled with her, ebbing and flowing, a show involving her own type of constellation theatrics. As suddenly as she began, she let all of her natural visual effect drop the ground, her self included. As her toes hit the earth gracefully, she put a finger to her temple and scrunched her eyes in thought. Then, suddenly, she spoke, "Tanzen ist die Bitte um Aufhebung der Schwerkraft. German! Hmmm..." A few cross language translations and then, "That's it, Aaron!" She called out the Omarain laughingly, "'Dancing is a request for the recession of gravity!' You're a genius!"

Her attention broke again as the ground beneath her feet... flexed. Her eyes wide she looked down and spread her toes in the grass, watching as different shoots of green started growing closer together as though the very earth was tightening beneath her feet. Then she heard Renn's voice and looked up watching him with soft features. He reminded her of a clock, or the tide, or the moon, or a wall, or a good pair of high heels. Sturdy, dependable, always there for you and never-changing. She liked that about him. He didn't confuse her as often as other people did because he always stayed the same Renn. She waved at him gracefully.

Seph and Daniel wiggled into view and Xylea's focus shifted yet again. Amused, she watched the dancing, her skin a buzz with everyone's energy. She smiled warmly as Milo walked over, out of breath. She had the random thought of somehow forcing air into his lungs, then thought better of it for fear she might hurt him in some way. Shaking her head, she let him come to her, a warmth filling her and radiating outward the closer he got. "Whew! Who knew fun was so much work?" Immediately Xylea's smile dropped and the confusion set in. Her brow furrowed as she dissected what he'd said. Work wasn't supposed to be fun, from what she'd gathered from her parents. If anything, it was quite the opposite of fun. Fun was supposed to be enjoyable, something you wanted to do, and work was something no one ever wanted to do. Maybe Milo wasn't having fun then! Maybe he was working... but why? and on what? and how did he come to be out of breath then?"Fun shouldn't be work," her words held a deep concern for her friend, "That's why it's called 'fun'. Were you working! Oh Milo!" Xylea's lips turned downwards as a thought struck her, "Oh wait! Eísai kalá? Are you okay? You aren't sick are you?" Her hand drifted to his forehead as she mimicked a motion her mother had always done to her as a child when she'd thrown up or felt like she was on fire. She wasn't really sure what the purpose of the motion was, so she let the back of her hand just sit on his forehead, waiting for whatever was meant to happen, to happen. "Michaela said we were supposed to enjoy ourselves! You can't enjoy yourself if your sick! Or if you are working... Don't be working! That's it, Milo, my friend!" Leaving her right hand on his forehead, she snapped her fingers with her left and turned away from him as she'd seen that Sherlock guy do whenever he made a statement about what he'd discovered, "As mas apolamvánoun! Let's enjoy ourselves!"

Without a second thought to whether or not Milo could be ill, she looked to him expectantly, her hand still on his forehead. Her eyes were glowing with anticipation of whatever "fun" Milo could come up with for them.

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.

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.

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.

Seph turned rather sharply at the sound of Artemis' voice. She subconsciously took a half step backwards, though her facial expression was not one of fear. "Probably," she said, shrugging, "depending on how you look at it, I'm either nineteen, or just over five. But I was thirsty, you know?"

Seph had been uncomfortable around Artemis as soon as she'd learned what his power was. She had... and extreme distaste for lightning, and storms in general. And she'd seen him shock people before, even if it was just on accident. She had nothing against him, she just didn't feel comfortable around him yet was all. But she didn't really have time to think any more on that subject, as Harvey had made his way over to the drinks with Something.

He'd gotten very close to her after she asked her questions. There was no one quite like Harvey in Seph's eyes. No one else on the Isle could make her legitimately angry. Uncomfortable, sure, confused, definitely, but angry? No, only Harvey could do that. It was just the way he was an insufferable ass to everyone he knew, including himself. The way he treated everyone and everything like it didn't matter to him. Maybe there really was nothing that mattered to him. If that was the case, she felt sorry for him.

At first she hadn't understood his intentions when he talked to her like this. She had just been confused when he called her things like sweetheart, little girl, tight ass, stupid little virgin. But after seeing him interact with others, she came to understand that his intention was to legitimately hurt people, for his own amusement it seemed. Now, she had come to despise some of the wolves back in her pack, the alphas mostly, but it was for reasons she could understand. They were ruthless, but they still had compassion. They helped the others grow and improve... she had just been incompetent, and worthless in a pack. But Harvey... there was no cause for his malice, no reason she could see as for why he so... so... evil to everyone.

But she was determined not to back down from him, or to let him get away with this one. He'd embarrassed Something, and hurt her, she could see it in the poor girl's face. She'd be stronger, though. She wouldn't break down and profusely apologize for impeded his amusement. She'd let him know that not everyone was willing to put up with him anymore. Seph wanted to see him change... for both their sakes. She just had to figure out how to do it.

The others were probably just about to jump in. Daniel was always quick to keep Harvey away from her, as was Aaron. But she wanted to do this herself this time, without someone stepping in to protect her. She silently held his gaze, keeping her face blank even as he came mere inches from it, to the point where the smell of smoke on his breath was nearly overwhelming her heightened senses.

"Try it," she said, her voice cold and even, "and I'll bite your dick off. Even the smallest wolf has bigger teeth than you, and even the smallest wolf won't be intimidated by your pathetic little bark."

She topped it off by emptying her cup of beer directly in his face. "Does that make it clear enough for you?"

Without waiting for a reply from him, or anyone, she pushed past him, and walked swiftly away from the courtyard, and the bonfire, and the booze, and the music, and everything. The forest was calling... she had a desire for a kind of simplicity that only it could provide. Something to just... get away, from all these confusing people. The wild was harsh, unforgiving, and often very cold, but it was one of the few things she truly understood.

She winced at the pain, but her anger at Harvey allowed her to push it aside, as her human form reverted back to her natural self, a small wolf with raven black fur, skinny and sleek. It felt... comfortable, for once. She took off at a run into the forest, reveling in the feeling of four padded feet pounding against the earth, her tail swishing behind her, her body feeling light and agile rather than awkward and clumsy.

And she kept running. If someone wanted to come after her, they could, but she wasn't stopping for anyone right now. It had felt good to stand up to Harvey. It was one of the first times she'd done it herself.

It wouldn't be the last. He could count on that.

The faerie prince hardly needed to be dragged, having been the one to propose that they journey together to the nest of containers of alcohol that had been assembled. His steps were light and sure as he gallivanted along with Graham in his usual spritely fashion. If anything, the Mori might find himself the one being tugged, bringing to mind the image of a particularly energetic puppy using the tether of its leash to enthusiastically drag its owner about. Of course, the idea of anyone leashing Aaron, much less owning him, was dubious at best.

He had not responded to the older boy’s replies. That he’s agreed to accompany him was all that truly mattered. He had no urge to dignify the obvious insinuation of Graham’s teaching him of certain crimes with his attention, or to agree to any sort of promise regarding his potential regrets. In his admittedly haphazard study of the supernatural beings which had made a legacy of their blood, he’d learned well enough that making promises to either fae or demon was a fool-hardy thing to do. He fully reserved the right to regret every second of the experience, if he chose, but it would have been in poor taste to make that so explicit audibly.

When Graham released him to survey their drinking options, Aaron let his attention wander away from his companion toward the others who had assembled in proximity of the social lubricants. Many of them were the same lot who’d dared not to join the festivities in earnest, but it seemed that almost everyone who hadn’t wandered off was being drawn inexorably toward the makeshift beverage center. He saw Artemis move off toward the compound for some purpose, saw Fleet and Hazel in conversation. He smiled to Tally, letting his chin dip in a nod her way. She was drinking beer, one of the only sorts of liquid intoxicant that he did have some experience with, none of it good. The only positive thing he could think to say of it was that, when cold, it could be fairly refreshing… but that was true of almost any liquid intended for cold consumption. He could say quite a few negative things about it as well, but didn’t, merely noting what she was drinking instead.

Elvis, Harvey, Something, Vendicare. Seph as well, and Wynston. He spared a glance Graham’s way to see what progress he was making and found him staring at a wine bottle contemplatively, but he was more interested in what the others were up to. He’d seen Harvey dancing with Something and actually been surprised that the usually caustic Harvey, the last one he would have expected to give in to the celebration, was actually having a bit of fun. He waggled his fingers Seph’s way, smiling brightly, and then frowning when she didn’t seem to notice that she had his attention. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said from his vantage point, but he certainly saw what followed the exchange of words between the Balaren girl and surly Omarain boy. Artemis had returned with food, he noted.

His laughter was just as musical as any other sound he made. As the beer dripped down Harvey’s face, though, there was a subtle note of scorn laced through it. Firelight and mirth danced in his eyes as he watched for a few more seconds, bringing his hands together in polite applause even as Seph took her leave. Smirking Harvey’s way, he let his eyebrows lift a bit on his brow, then shook his head. The electrical Navarene got his shots in first, but the faerie prince was quick to follow. ”You certainly have a way with the gentler sex, cousin. They hardly seem so gentle when you’re around.” he remarked, lifting his voice to be heard above any competing sounds without actually stooping to the indignity of shouting.

His gaze trailed away from Harvey, toward the towering Elvis, the roughly-hewn Vendicare, and the authoritative Wynston. He pursed his lips as he tried to sort out exactly why that arrangement seemed a bit tense, but was unable to reach any meaningful verdict. Instead, when he formed his mouth into a sultry curve and tried to catch the eyes of Elvis and Vendi, since Wynston was facing away from him. That was all he offered, a flirtatious little smirk, before he rounded to check on Graham’s progress.

The prior song ended, and without teenage lust to distract him, Aaron seamlessly transitioned to the next song in his impromptu play-list. He verged a bit closer, laying his hand on the small of Graham’s back thoughtlessly as he poured. The way that the teacup was thrust at him was nearly alarming, enough so that he felt a tiny thrill build up and die. It was the same feeling one had when almost anything was quickly coming at their face, but he neither shied away nor threw his hands up to block. Instead, he brought both hands up, touching them to the somewhat absurd vessel that Graham had chosen for the cabernet. He didn’t take it though, not immediately. The Mori would be forced to either let it fall, or to continue holding it at Aaron’s full lips while he loomed so close.

He arched a blond eyebrow as the characteristics of the wine were laid out for him. ”Olive and oak, coconut and chocolate? You smell all of that? I can’t imagine how it tastes.” His nose wrinkled, and his voice bore a hint of derision that was just as noticeable as the olive top note of the deep red wine in the teacup. He did sniff, though… and tried to smell all of the things Graham was describing. He didn’t, of course. To him it smelled just slightly like acetone and berries. There was a certain sharpness to the scent that was almost oily in nature; not that it smelled like oil, but that it smelled like it might feel oily on his tongue. He finally accepted the teacup by its pert handle, frowning into the liquid as if he expected to see his fortune in the dregs at the bottom. ”How long must I wait? he asked, glancing up again.



The Wind-Touched Guardian’s spine straightened slightly as Hazel came closer, and his eyes grew just a bit wider when she embraced him. When her lips brushed his cheek, they grew wider still. An instant later, Hazel would find herself in a bit of disarray as the wind-formerly-known-as-Fleet swirled and gusted about her, surely wreaking havoc on her hairstyle before it slipped out of her arms and skirted a few yards away.

He became flesh and blood once more staring at the ground. His cheeks were very red, though they’d only seem dark in the lack of light. He let out a very loud, awkward laugh, hahaha, then reached up to rub at the back of his neck. ”Oh I’m not sad, I’m not, don’t you worry, not at all.” He laughed again, the same awkward, bleating sound. ”Oh look, Artemis brought finger sandwiches. I bet they don’t have any fingers or sand or witches in them!” With that, he adjusted his hat and took off at an ungainly, loping pace for the little snack area that his fellow Navarene had set up.

His head bobbed as ungainly as anything else he did to Aaron’s music, and then he remembered to snatch up a plate before loading it up with goodies. He was still blushing, and his lips were moving, but if he was saying anything at all he was sub-vocalizing it.

Xy leaned back as Dan's hands came around her torso. She had let go of her grip on his neck, so (had she been a child or not light as air) would have been very hard to hold up in this position. As it were, she leaned back on his arms as they spoke, her legs still wrapped around his waist, holding her in place. "Hey there Xy! Good to see you again." She laughed at his words, a playful, giddy laugh. It was silly to her for him to say it as though they hadn't seen each other in a long time, they'd just seen each other yesterday! Either way, she found joy in the idea that he'd missed her for the time they'd been apart, however short.

"My night's been pretty good Xy, so I can't exactly complain. Danced some with Seph, said hi to Erin, watched everyone have fun." Xylea's eyes grew wide. Seph! She hadn't seen her yet, or at least, she didn't think she had. Her wolfy friend had to be somewh-- she audibly gasped at Erin's name and looked around. She knew Erin was always somehow watching whenever Dan and Xy were talking/playing/doing anything. Xy didn't really understand why or what it meant, but she was extremely curious as to whether or not the blonde mori was watching at this moment too. It was like she had some sort of homing beam on their friendship that sent off alarms whenever the two were near each other. "Oh how cool would that be!" Xy exclaimed, making "pew pew" homing noises as Dan continued. "It's been nice, nicer that I've had in a while."

Xy's confusion took form in a small frown on her face. She was about to ask him what, exactly, he'd had that could be nicer than the chocolate cake they'd had for dessert, but was immediately defeated by a fit of excited giggles as Dan began spinning them around. She threw her hands up and her head back, enjoying the soothing feeling of the wind intertwining with her fingers and pushing through her hair. She could feel every follicle dance on her scalp as her light blonde tresses whipped in the wind and it brought a titillated flush to her cheeks. As he slowed to a stop, her heart rate continued to flutter with the excitement and she just hugged him again. "Dan! You're the best!" The loving statement rang with honesty, she'd known Dan longer than anyone else at the Compound and her trust in him and friendship with him was definitely the strongest. He wouldn't let her get away with her wandering thoughts though, being very used to the way she would flit from one subject to the next, Dan reeled her back in, "Oranges huh? I'm more keen on pears myself. Why don't I find you some sometime?"

Xy allowed her forehead to be tapped with his as an airy, light chuckle escaped her lips. All limbs, she scrambled from his arms and stood in front of him, patting him on the head as though he were a small child, "Of course you'd rather have a pair of them! Two are always better than one!" She laughed again at her silly friend, playfully and bubbly. She skipped around him in circles, enjoying the bouncing movement immensely, then startled herself with a thought as she came to stand in front of him again. Wide eyed, she turned to look him in the eye. All playfulness gone, her new-found seriousness creating a dire feeling, "What if we had a bunch of oranges? A whole box! There would be a pair for..." she looked around and started counting everyone near the bonfire. She had gotten all the way to 5 when she noticed Seph dumping the contents of a red solo cup all over Harvey and shift quickly into her native form, running off into the woods. Xy gasped audibly. She'd never seen her friend turn into a wolf before and it was quite a different experience than she'd expected, to see the bones breaking and re-forming, the fur growing, to feel the vibrations of the air around her as matter moved from surrounding a human shape to holding a dog-like form.

Xylea stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. She'd seen what Seph had done in movies before, and usually with some thick pink or brown liquid in a 1950s diner.... They always look so cute with their skarves! I have to get me one of those poo-dull skirts some day... Wait! Focus! Those situations had usually been... bad, right? Whenever someone was splashed in the face by someone else it was usually because something had gone terribly wrong... Or they'd had the wrong answer on one of those crazy Nickelodeon shows. Xylea chuckled in spite of herself as she remembered the orange or green ooze shows. Then she made up her mind in a split second decision: oranges. Without a second glance or goodbye to Dan she ran towards the Compound.

Being faster than most humans, thanks to her light body and long legs, she sprinted across the yard and past Harvey and Artemis quickly. Just as she left the area they stood in, she clapped and waved her hand toward the boys on an after thought. Wind flowing from her to whip around them suddenly. She paused as she got to the door of the Compound, looking back at the boys to manipulate the pocket of air that engulfed them. Artemis would mostly just be caught in the wind, an innocent bystander , but Harvey would be taken up in the flurry. Xylea wasn't doing anything to harm, though, simply to dry. Her eyes grew silver-blue as the small gusts flew through Harvey's hair, across his face and neck, moved through the microscopic holes in the weave of the fabric of his shirt. It was a gentle but non-stop force until the Fae stood where he had been, completely dry if somewhat disheveled and smelling of hops. Artemis, on the other hand, would probably be a mess of static.

Then Xy thought of her friend, the she-wolf she'd grown close to must have been feeling bad to have slimed Harvey in the first place. Ever so gently, she pulled the wind and sent it after Seph. She used the softer patches of air that spelled movement to trace where the Balaren had been. Finding her tail, Xy sent the small gust to play in Seph's fur, tugging lightly at the scruff just behind her ears. She didn't need to say anything or for Seph to stop running to let her friend know she was there for her. Seph would know that it was Xy's way of saying that she'd be right next to her in a heartbeat if she wanted.

Smiling to herself, she let the gust drop and charged inside. She found the kitchen with ease and, after a little snooping and a quick cookie (or 4), she snagged a large box of oranges. Returning triumphantly to where everyone seemed to be gathering around the alcohol, she set the box of fruit down and proclaimed, "I brought one for everyone!

Something was still all nervous and jittery from the ”experience”, knees all wobbly as she leaned heavily upon the drinks table. But she was trying to hide it. She was fragile and her emotions felt potentially explosive, but she concealed it all with a optimistic smile. Harvey had followed her, expressing his concern in his own Harvey-ish way. "Here. Calm down." He had offered as he poured her a shot, taking two of his own. "And please for the love of god, quit apologizing."

See? He did care. It was all just a misunderstanding. “Oh yes, sorry about that,” she apologized for her apologetic nature, eyes darting downward, though she already felt herself cooling down. As far as she was concerned, it had never happened. The memory of everything would remain, but any emotional ties to the event would dissolve quickly into the back of her mind. It didn’t REALLY matter.

“Hmm,” she sighed as she delicately sipped from her teacup. Unlike most girls her age, she was quite well-adjusted to the taste of hard alcohol. She had started drinking very young, and not wanting to appear like what was commonly known as a “wuss”, would always take her shots without chasers, which would receive cheers and claps on the back from her friends. If you were cheered and clapped on the back, the best description of positive reinforcement from peer pressures there really was, wouldn’t whiskey taste less bitter to you too? The alcohol ended up being one of the sweetest tasting beverages around, drenched in the feelings of warmth and good memories.

It wasn’t that difficult for her now. The whiskey, unlike beer, made its presence known as it slid quickly down her throat. Yet, she still absent-mindedly sipped it. Luckily, it was chilled, so the burn was significantly reduced. In a placebo effect, she felt calmer already. Harvey had taken three shots at this point, not uncommon for the group she used to hang out with, her old friends, her old memories. So she grinned up at him. “A man only drinks that much when he wants to kiss a girl or kill a man. Which is it?" she had lowered her voice, attempting to match the inflection of one of her favorite characters from one of her favorite films of all time that had come out just this summer, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. “Unless…you want to kill the woman you want to kiss…” she mused, suddenly alarmed, brow furrowing as she slurped more liquidly quite loudly.

Harvey seemed antsy, and Something yearned to help, yet she felt trapped in her unseemly body. He admitted to needing a light while his hand slipped seamlessly to the small of her back. At this point, after their raunchy dance, she was familiar with his touch. She did not shy from it or really react in any sort of way. Eager to please, she quickly muttered in her high little voice, “Oh yes, of course, anything,” while she flicked her thumb against her forefinger, producing a small flame.

But Harvey stepped away from her toward Seph. Their conversations seemed…very involved. There seemed to be… a lot of history between them. Something stood there with the little ball of flame; it wavered and threatened to go out as she puckered her lips, unsure of what to do. She protected it with her other hand from the wind, and it glowed.

But before she could get too upset about her inability to make a decision as to what to do (which would have inevitably happened), a warm presence distracted her. “Artemis!” she chimed, repeating his name, her eyes crinkling as she smiled, using her flame to light her own cigarette before allowing it to go out. “It’s Something,” extending her hand and half bowing to one knee. Was she about to be knighted? Possibly. She had only met him briefly, but he was someone she liked. He possessed a relaxed, mature, and familiar kind of aura. She felt just about anyone could feel comfortable and at home around him. “I remember you.”

“Sandwich? Dinner and a show right” as he offered her a finger sandwich, she immediately just about clawed them from the plate, grabbing several, and stuffed in her mouth. “Always!” she cried out, lids drooping in the simple ecstasy of eating. The ones she was unable to currently fit in her mouth, she loaded into the bottom of her tshirt, using it as a make shift basket. It was like feeding a velociraptor in Jurassic Park. Nothing remained, and the plate was lucky to get out alive from her ravenous appetite. “I’m not quite sure what to do about them,” she continued, motioning towards what could have been a lover’s quarrel. “I feel like I should do something…but… I’m not quite su-“

And just as she was confessing this deep need to Artemis, Persephone threw a drink into Harvey’s face and threatened to bite his dick off. After a quick snort and the near death experience of having food hit the back wall of your throat, Something’s jaw dropped, revealing the partially chewed contents of her mouth. She had slowly began chewing again, almost as if the food were a way to soothe the uncertainty of the situation, when Artemis lightened the mood. “If she finds it…” Again, Something took something the wrong way. Her reaction was to empathetic towards Harvey, so she misinterpreted Artemis’ insult. She grinned at him, eyes sparkling mischievously beneath the veneer of tsk-tsking she gave. “I’m sure she’d find it eventually! I mean, buttons are hard sometimes to work with…” She had thought he meant to make fun of Seph’s clumsiness about human customs…she was…potentially an idiot.

Something moved toward Harvey, shoving the last of the sandwiches in her mouth to free up the hand that wasn’t busy with her teacup. The teacup he had found for her. She sure owed him a lot, obviously. So she would give him all of her sympathies to the best of her ability. Her hand found his back as she stood beside him, facing the direction that Seph ran off in wolf form, and patted him gently a few times. “I wouldn’t-“ she began, unknowing of what to say, “worry too much about that…” She handed her lit cigarette to Harvey, figuring he’d need it now more than ever.

Both Artemis and Aaron offered their light teasing, though she was sure it was only in attempts to lighten the mood rather than thinly disguised passive aggressive jabs. I mean…who could hate Harvey. He was the coolest of cool. The coolest cat. So Something laughed at their jokes, eyes bright as she looked to Harvey’s expression for reassurance that he was ok. That everything was ok.

Xylea pretty much removed all traces of the disaster when she gusted him dry. Something’s hair stirred floated up, stick straight out again. Exactly the bed head she had patted down beforehand in desperate attempts to seem presentable in public. But she wouldn’t notice what a ragamuffin she now appeared. Xylea had darting away on a mission. Something yearned to run after her, but Something wasn’t much of an extrovert. So instead, she smiled after her wistfully. “See?” Something smiled at the small crowd of people, “It’s like it never happened!” She finished to contents of her teacup loudly.