Brittany (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
breezeshadow) wrote2013-03-17 01:27 pm
breezeshadow) wrote2013-03-17 01:27 pm
Seem to have gotten myself sick
Theory at this point in time it's in an ear/sinus infection. Hoping it magically clears up by tomorrow, but I had to leave my meetup early because I was melting into a blob and unfocused.
Regardless, I did get some writing done.
And sitting with her legs folded under her, a cup of steaming something in her hands, was the Queen. She was short like all of the mountain dwellers -- barely a few inches below five feet, with lean muscular arms and legs. Her wings were the biggest she had seen out of any of her captors, with an iridescence that reminded her of a giant deformed fly. They were spread out fully, the veins marking where the main limb of the wing spread out and pulsing blue against the clear membrane.
If these bastards were anything like her kind, then the Queen was very old, despite her youthful face. She looked up upon the door opening, and her deep blue eyes widened as she smiled without showing her teeth.
"Thank you." She said the word in both languages, or she guessed that was what the nonsense word was. "You may leave her alone with me."
And then they were alone.
"I told my generals not to underestimate your kind." The Queen sighed and shook her head as she rose, her wings neatly folding up. "At least someone was able to get you before you caused more damage."
"No mourning for your lost friends, fly?" She bared her teeth, though the affect would not be the same with her missing her two top fangs.
"We mourn for those who deserve it. Being tricked by a pixie is a death that deserves celebration." The faerie snorted, brushing the pixie's taunt away with a sharp-nailed hand. "I would expect a human to be fooled by a changeling but my people should know better."
So the Queen did know. Wilburh often argued with the other spies about whether the mountain faeries knew about their powers of morphosis. Many of the young, cockier pixies had insisted that there was no way for them to know, but older spies had always countered that the flies were mages. Surely they could sense the magic, and eventually figure out who was doing it.
In the end, Wilburh had the misfortune to be right. Shame she wouldn't ever have the chance to rub in those young idiots' faces.
"So what did you do with Aldegar?"
Regardless, I did get some writing done.
And sitting with her legs folded under her, a cup of steaming something in her hands, was the Queen. She was short like all of the mountain dwellers -- barely a few inches below five feet, with lean muscular arms and legs. Her wings were the biggest she had seen out of any of her captors, with an iridescence that reminded her of a giant deformed fly. They were spread out fully, the veins marking where the main limb of the wing spread out and pulsing blue against the clear membrane.
If these bastards were anything like her kind, then the Queen was very old, despite her youthful face. She looked up upon the door opening, and her deep blue eyes widened as she smiled without showing her teeth.
"Thank you." She said the word in both languages, or she guessed that was what the nonsense word was. "You may leave her alone with me."
And then they were alone.
"I told my generals not to underestimate your kind." The Queen sighed and shook her head as she rose, her wings neatly folding up. "At least someone was able to get you before you caused more damage."
"No mourning for your lost friends, fly?" She bared her teeth, though the affect would not be the same with her missing her two top fangs.
"We mourn for those who deserve it. Being tricked by a pixie is a death that deserves celebration." The faerie snorted, brushing the pixie's taunt away with a sharp-nailed hand. "I would expect a human to be fooled by a changeling but my people should know better."
So the Queen did know. Wilburh often argued with the other spies about whether the mountain faeries knew about their powers of morphosis. Many of the young, cockier pixies had insisted that there was no way for them to know, but older spies had always countered that the flies were mages. Surely they could sense the magic, and eventually figure out who was doing it.
In the end, Wilburh had the misfortune to be right. Shame she wouldn't ever have the chance to rub in those young idiots' faces.
"So what did you do with Aldegar?"