Status: update is in progress.

Birdie

meadows

Each fist collides against a cushion in determination and precision. Anastas falters slightly, adjusts the cushions on his hands, and returns to his stance in front of me, arms out and ready for me to strike. And I do -quite well, in fact, as he has told me twice now- and I strike hard and quick, my knuckles always landing in the center of the cushion as if they belong there.

I take a small moment of rest and wipe my brow, narrowing my eyes to focus in on my target. It is quite a sight, especially if you had seen my progress from the beginning of our session up until now. At first my strikes had been a delicate and frail as I had been yesterday evening. Now, with a little help from Anastas, I am working hard and doing it correctly. He had had to coach me through getting over the absurdity of a girl fighting (though I had asked for the lessons, the idea is still odd to me) and once I did so, I really started to improve.

I suppose my memories of the previous night help in a great fashion, as they fill my rage and determination to defend myself. However, using these thoughts as fuel for my aggression makes me feel just awful about myself. I know it hadn't been Uncle's fault. I should have known better than to flaunt a piece of his daughter around, even if it had just been a small hairpiece. My Uncle had obviously gone to a great length to hide these things away form himself and to keep the memories away. He simply wants to live as happily and tenderly as he can without being reminded of the family that was ripped away from him- and it was not my place to rouse such feelings.

And still, it is the very thing that give me the energy to keep training today. Not for the anger or the pain I had felt in that moment, but perhaps it was just the situation that hurt me most. It is not unknown that I do not like to be so helpless and I feel as if I have never been so helpless than I had been the previous evening. Even in my struggle with Freer and Pessle, I had at least tried to run from then and last night I could't move or speak. I had been caught of guard and had no idea what to do. I will not let it happen again.

We continue to train for nearly an hour more but in time the sky grows much to dark for us to go any further. I hug my instructor and thank him again for being so kind as to help me train in self defense before strolling back toward the manner. Anastas stays behind to finish up some work but I'm much to tired to help him with any of it. Sweating and panting, I reach the front of the manner just in time to see Pierre standing in front of the double doors. His arms are crossed and there is a large smile on his face.

"Good evening," he calls out to me, smile growing even more.

I do the first thing that comes to my mind and I turn the other direction, not even providing the faery with the satisfaction of a frown or scoff. I keep my eyes forward as I continue down the path but it doesn't take long before I hear light footsteps pounding after me. "Skye, wait!"

Again I act on impulse and I take off in a sprint, which due to days of training has already built my speed and stamina up. It is a childish thing to do, to run away from him. I realize this as I turn and make a break for the trees to the left side of the manner- the forest that I had never cared to venture through yet. Although it is very unladylike and very childish to run from Pierre, I do it anyway. After all, hadn't he been the one ignoring me for the duration of the week? What gives him any sort of right to do that and expect anything to be wrong between us?

I pass through the evergreens, the brisk autumn air magnifying with the night's chill against my skin, leaving it red and burning. I keep running, the footfalls following me getting louder and closer. I duck behind a tree and catch my breath and pray that he doesn't hear me. I hear him step closer to the tree and I inhale slightly. It's my downfall, I had nearly forgotten how acute faery hearing is. He is standing in front of me in a flash, blocking my path away from the tree. I sigh, lean against it, and cross my arms.

"Skye, please, just listen to what I have to say."

"I think you have made it clear that you have nothing to say to me," I snap and push past his shoulder, walking away from him.

"Please, just listen. I didn't mean to upset you-"

I stop dead in my tracks and grit my teeth. "You didn't mean to? Whether or not you meant it, you still hurt me. A lot."

"I'm just so sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper and yet it carries through the space between us as if he had been shouting. I hear him shift on the balls of his feet but I refuse to look at him.

"I think I could be more forgiving if there had actually been a reason. I tried so hard to rationalize your behavior was because of something I had said or did. But try as I might, I couldn't think of damn thing I did that would have you treat me as you have," I say, shaking. I swallow hard, clenching my eyes shut. I have never used such choice words. I may be independent and rash but if there's something that I'm not, it's rude. I try as hard as I can to be calm and accepting but even I have my limits. "I just do not understand."

His next words are fast and jumbled, as if it were all one word. "I love you."

A swirl of emotions suddenly release within every inch of my body- anger, happiness, surprise, embarrassment, and every emotion known to man. I hadn't expected to hear that from him at all, much less right now. I would be crazy if I were to say that I don't feel anything for him. I had spent the last four or so weeks falling hard for him. He kept me safe from my night mares that one night, and he's held my hand so many days when we were walking home from school. However, the bad outweighs the good. He has gone out of his way multiple times to avoid and ignore me. He's mad me feel completely horrid and downtrodden. Whatever I feel for him, love or not, is simply not going to excuse his behavior.

I sigh and look around me. The sun has not completely gone down but darkness is creeping into our world at a rapid pace. The forest is quiet, only occupied by the sound of crickets and our breathing- and something else. Something far off and yet oddly familiar. I glance at my feet, too busy with the situation at hand to care about the other noise. I turn to face him slowly, eyes showing my misery but yet holding no tears.

I will not cry over you. Not today, I tell myself, trying desperately to hold myself together.

"No." My voice is strict and unwavering. Though it is such a small word, so meaningless, it gives me strength to go on. "No. When you're in love you don't push the person you're in love with away. You don't treat her as if she's disposable and act like you don't care. You show her you love her and you make sure you keep that love strong."

He strides toward me, leaning down to look directly in my eyes. The lavender looks almost like a deep blue in the growing darkness, but his hair looks nearly silver. Every reasonable instinct is telling me to look away but I can't. I feel trapped in his eyes and in this moment.

"Feelings are for the young and the new," he says softly, "When I was new to this world, about your age, I could have known how to deal with them. Skye, I've been alive much too long now, I have forgotten how it was to feel something for another being. When I realized that I was in love with you, it scared me. I didn't know what to do with myself, so... I pushed you away."

"That was the only logical thing for you to do?" I ask sarcastically, casting my eyes to the ground.

"No, it was wrong of me," he whispers hurriedly. He places a chilling hand against my shoulder but I shrug it away. "So wrong," he echoes.

"I don't know what to say to you, Pierre." I furrow my brow at him, still trying to hold myself together. So far I am succeeding. Perhaps I'm stronger than I had given myself credit for.

"Say you feel the same. Or, at the very least, say you forgive me," he whimpers, large lavender eyes waning and shining as if they were the moon that is soon to rise above us. Snow white skin and lily colored eyes- how can I resist him? Somehow I manage.

"There had been a time when I might have thought I felt the same. I thought that perhaps I loved you, just maybe. But the way you've treated me has put me off that feeling. Maybe temporarily, maybe permanently, but you must know that you only have yourself to blame." I sigh, my breath now visible in the cooling night air. Darkness has finally dropped around us. The only light is us. Us, and something far off in the forest. Something bright and wavering, but is obscured by the trees. If I listen closely, the unidentifiable noise is coming from that direction too.

Pierre hangs his head, locks of silver hair hanging down over his eyes. It's grown much too long, I think distractedly. He sighs and eventually meets my eyes again. "I understand. I wronged you. All I can ask is for forgiveness and hope that I can win you over once more."

I smile at him then, happiness surging through me. It wouldn't be so bad to forgive him, would it? After all, he is kind enough to admit he was wrong and to ask for my forgiveness directly. Not only that but it would be a lot easier at the manor without having to avoid him. I still don't feel completely forgiving of what he did to me, but it's worth a shot to try. In time I will learn to forgive him, and perhaps by then I will have fallen for him once more. But as it stands now, he is only getting politeness from me and nothing more.

"That would be best," I say and my smile grows weaker. I quickly glance around me once more and find that the light in the distance is only shining brighter now. Curious, I take a step away from the faery and head toward the light. He cocks his head and notices it as well and follows. The light gets brighter and the sound becomes more audible as we draw nearer to some unknown destination- the sound of rushing water.

With the faery in tow we break the tree line and step out onto a very familiar clearing. A meadow of white paper flowers stretches out that overlooks the crystal stream that wraps around the clearing like a beautiful snake. The meadow stretches out to bluff where a large white Grand Piano sits, looking as lonely and desolate as anything I have ever seen. The sky here is blue and the sun is shining bright, though outside of the clearing the sun has set and darkness has consumed the Earth.

"My dream," I mutter to myself. Pierre comes to my side and looks at me quizzically. "I've seen this place in a dream I had."

Pierre doesn't ask any questions. I find myself being drawn to the piano, hands outstretched. I lay my fingers against the keys and run them down in a graceful scale. The keys feel warm to the touch and slightly warn from years of use. The piano itself is in pristine condition as well as its bench. With a sad smile, I sit, and a moment later I am joined by Pierre.

"In my dream, he and Elena played here," I whisper, fingers tracing lines along the keys, eyes never leaving them. Though it's such a beautiful meadow I can't help but feel dismal. How long has it been since this meadow has seen life? Seen any happiness? How long has it been since Elena had been taken from Uncle Edwin? This place, a meadow meant for the two of them, now sent empty, only filled by the heavy and anchored memories of a broken family. "She was his daughter."

"Edwin has a daughter?" He inclines his head toward me and I find myself nodding, feeling slight relieved. I hadn't been the only one completely in the dark.

"Has, had. I am not sure. All I know is that she was taken from him after his wife perished."

"Oh," he mumbled softly. I nod and press down on a key. A sharp chord rings out through the small enclosure but is only met by the running water.

"Why is the sun shining here?" The question seems to fall out of my mouth. I'm not sure if Pierre will know, but he's a faery and they know a thing or two about magic, so I'm hoping for the best.

"This meadow is conjured. Every part of it is false- created to preserve an idea or concept of a beauty that would not exist without the presence of magic. The paper flowers, the False Sunlight... It's all created to keep someone in high spirits."

I look up and around me. Blue, cloudless skies and sunlight that seems to shimmer down so that you can see each individual ray. Everything seems to glisten in the light- the grass, the piano, the water. All of it is illuminated by something much more radiant than I can imagine.

"It works," I say breathlessly. He needs this, I think suddenly. It's not a hasty thought, just a casual one but it is one worth thinking. I hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable with the butterfly pin, but maybe coming here could help. It might bring up painful memories, but they are the best of the painful. It's so beautiful and relaxing here... He'll have to enjoy it.

"It really," Pierre smiles cooly, leaning back against the piano. I sigh and lean back as well, gazing up at the sky. I blink slowly, not truly realizing how tired I had been from the days events. With training and running away, as well as arguing with Pierre, I am borderline exhausted.

"Let's head back," I yawn, slowly getting to my feet. And we did, leaving the scared place behind, neither of us feeling any better inside for having found it.

Image

The next day, Anastas and I decide to take a short break from training. It's Sunday and he has a lot of chores to do, and Uncle Edwin needs Pierre and I to fetch more material from Paladrome's shop, so we agree just to pick up where we left off tomorrow. That sorted and set aside, Pierre and I are all set to head into the city. I pull a wrap around my bare shoulders and shiver, though Pierre isn't fazed by the chill. He's dressed in wool a shirt, vest, and trousers, though he doesn't experience the cold as I do, as a human does.

The streets of Everstile are much less crowded these days. The frosty air has many people confined in their homes, snuggled in their blankets with hopes that winter will be swift and summer will be upon them once more. Those who do walk the stone pathways of the magnificent city are bundled in coats as the hustle past, buying or selling or trading, meeting or greeting, and whatever else they do on their Sunday mornings. They are quieter these day, as if they feel intimidated by the cold, though their voices are followed by a steady stream of breath against the pale blue sky.

Many shops and vendor's stands are closed for the day, or shut down for the winter to come, but we shrug along anyway. Paladrome's shop hosts a closed sign in her window, but Pierre pulls the door open without a second thought and we rush into the warm of the small stone shop.

"Sign says closed!" Paladrome's angry voice roars from the room behind the curtain in the back of the room. When there are no footsteps, we hear her frustrated sigh and her footsteps as she pushes through the curtain, walks from behind the counter and into the shop. "I said we're closed- oh. It's you guys!"

"Sorry for barging in," I blush, shooting Pierre a glare. He looks nothing but amused.

"It's no problem at all! We're only closed today to keep the heat in. People like to come in and loiter in the heat. It's quite bothersome."

"Oh, well, do you think you could sell us our usual and then we'll be on our way-"

She waves her hand in front of her. "Don't be ridiculous. You're welcome here anytime." She smiles and turns back to the counter, hair like fire whipping about her. "The usual, you said?"

"Yes, but throw in some extra copper gears and silver pipping. This order requires a bit more of those," Pierre adds and smiles. Paladrome simply nods and slips into the back room. She turns later with a large crate in her hands and Flintlock trailing in her footsteps. His tattoos are covered by a long-sleeved shirt and thick pants. His chin has sprouted an abundance of hair as a beard and soon enough it will be enough to keep the large man warm through the harsh months to come. His green eyes flash in welcome and I smile to him.

She sets the crate upon the counter and tells the price to my escort. Pierre nods and lays an array of gold and silver pieces onto the counter. As she puts the money away, her pale blue eyes gave over me, examining me. Her lips curve into a smile. "You really are like me," she says.

I know exactly what she means; she had said I was fighter, and though I denied it, I am, aren't I? I am training to defend myself after all. And I am quite skilled for a girl my age, even with my lack of experience and knowledge in the subject.

"I guess I am."

She blinks slowly, grinning with her eyes. She says nothing more on the subject. Pierre leans against the counter for a moment while a question formulates in my mind. The first time I had come here, the faery had told me that Paladrome knew a lot of gossip. Perhaps she could assist me with something that needed solving.

She moves to sit upon the counter, her marks covered in her long-sleeved dress that reaches to her ankles. However, the collar dips low enough to see paladrome marked across her chest. "Paladrome?"

"Yes, Skye?"

"I need a bit of help with something, and you're good enough as any to ask. I'm sure you'll know something I can do."

"I just might," she reassures me. I laugh slightly to myself, looking back at the ash haired faery. He's come closer to my side, eyebrows furrowed. He's confused as to what I'm doing but I do not care. It is his fault. If he had not been so concerned with keeping himself from me, it is probable that I would have told him of my plans to get an appointment with King Avedin. However, King Avedin sees no one, lest they are official delegates or other things pertaining to him and only him.

"I want an audience with the king."

She meets my eyes with a stare, her pale blue against my sunny-skies blue. Flintlock clenched his jaw and said nothing. Pierre merely shifted his hands slightly before resting against the counter once again. "Avedin will surely not see a young woman such as yourself. Unless, of course, you're there to bed him."

I shudder and shake the thought away. "No," I say defiantly. "I do not need a proper audience, I know that much. I just need the opportunity to see him once, just talk to him."

A grin flashes through her eyes. She understands my intentions, or so it seems, and I can tell she has an answer for me. Pierre is smirking now too. Whether he's impressed or amused, I know not. "There is a banquet coming up, within the following week or so. A meeting of messengers and delegates and ambassadors. He invites nobles and certain civilians who interest him or are of public interest. Find a way to get invited and you will get your audience, I guarantee it."

i beam at her brightly, a thousand ideas rushing through my mind. How can I capture the king's interest? Maybe there's an easier way to get into the feast; who's to say I won't weave a web of lies if I have to?
"Thank you kindly, Paladrome."

She bows her head in mock respect, or maybe it's true respect but I'm not giving myself enough credit. Pierre takes our order into his hands and moves toward the door. We bid our goodbyes to the odd warrior pair and re-enter the brisk Sunday morning. Wind whips around us, crackling as if it were the crop of a well trained horse.

"What are you planning?" Pierre asks when we're nearly out of Everstile.

"I'll tell you on the way," I grin. And I do.
♠ ♠ ♠
Enjoy <3
Skye has a plan :)