Birdie

My grandmother was possibly the wisest woman I had ever known. She knew exactly what to say and when to say it. Half the time I was sure she was able to read my mind. I know that sounds crazy but even when I displayed no emotion; she would always have some advice for me. Then, unexpectedly, she passed away in her sleep. I honestly wish that I could have her back right now. I want her now more than ever, more than I even want my parents.

I sigh as I slowly shut my book, only a mere hundred pages into this six hundred paged novel. Looking toward the clock, I see that it's about lunchtime, but no faery has been cooking it, I know. Is it because Uncle Edwin doesn't eat lunch? I ask myself, but then decide not to even bother myself with the question. I quickly get up and walk to the dining room. The room is empty, but placed upon the table is a large silver platter filled with various fey fruit. There's one that catches my eye; it's in the shape of a simple square, but in a shining purple color. I pick it up carefully, squeezing it softly. The texture is smooth, yet I sense that any tighter of a grip will make the odd fruit burst.

Just as I'm about to put the fruit to my lips, a voice stops me. "Unless you want your tongue to burn for hours on end, I would not advise eating that." I drop the fruit back onto the platter and turn to find Tinsley, grin spread across her face. She seems genuinely happy for a servant.

"Thank you for the warning," I blush.

"It's specifically a fey fruit. If you do not share our taste buds, one little bite of that will blister your gums," she explains. "The name of it escapes me- there are just so much fruit that is created in our Kingdom that even I lose track."

"It would be hard not too," I admit. It's common knowledge that the fey magically alter their plants and fruits, creating new foods with various flavors and effects. There is hardly any new fruit that gets made that actually is edible to anything other than the fey or actually any that get profit.

"Are you hungry, Miss- I mean, Skye?" I blush, almost ready to correct her. I nod slowly.

"Lunch would be divine, actually."

"I shall make some. It'll be but a moment," she says and hurries into the kitchen. I open my mouth just as she leaves but she doesn't see. I quietly pull a chair away from the large table and place myself in it. It is already becoming a little easier to be waited on but at the same time, I still feel a little guilty having someone do everything for me. Tinsley tells the truth, however, and rushes back into the kitchen with a plate filled with a single sandwich, a bunch of grapes, and a few baby carrots. She sets it down in front of me and smiles endearingly, wanting me to taste it. I smile at her and bring the sandwich up to my lips. The bread is white and crisp and the meat smells fresh. I slowly take a bite and chew it, swallowing it down. The meat tastes very fresh, yet sweet at the same time.

"It's just lovely," I pay her a compliment. I swallow once more, just for good measure. "You'll join me, won't you?"

"If you wish," she says, fighting her instinct to curtsy. She pulls out a chair and sits next to me, taking the fruit from earlier from out of the basket. She turns it over in her palm a few times before putting it to her lips and finally taking a bite. Her eyes close for a second as she savors the taste. I admire her for just a moment. Even while eating, the fey can still look beautiful.

"Why must you work for my Uncle?" The words fall out of my mouth before I can even comprehend my question, let alone its implications.

"Excuse me?" Tinsley asks, but not out of anger. Out of surprise maybe, but she doesn't seem to be angry with me. After all, it is a perfectly legitimate question.

"How did you come to be a servant? If you don't mind my asking," I blush and try to hide my face. Her yellow eyes glint with amusement.

"I do not mind in the slightest," she says after taking another bite of her fruit. "Well, I'm only two centuries old, too young to find any real work as a fey, and since my family isn't into any big businesses, like blacksmithing or even tailoring, it was hard to find a job. I had a natural talent for making things cleaner and prettier... And that's how I ended up in the servants business."

"Did you have any Masters other than my uncle?"

"Two others, yes, but they were not as kind as Master Edwin is. I've worked for your uncle for the past seventeen years or so," she smiles to herself for a moment, "I cannot imagine working for anyone else."

My eyes widen just a fraction. It's a known fact that faeries live to be thousands of year’s old- not quite immortal but pretty darn close. What really astounded me is that she is two hundred years old, give or take a few years, and she looks as if she's only fifteen. Some humans would possibly kill for a gift such as this. Tinsley tilts her head slightly and bites her pink lips, a troubled look showing through her eyes.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question? Feel free not to answer," she trails off toward the end. I shrug slightly.

"I don't see why not."

"How did your parents die?"

My face immediately falls and my eyes shift to my plate. Truth be told, they've been dead for weeks now. Due to legal matters with their estate and it took time to get Uncle Edwin's invitation to live with him, I had to stay with a temporary caretaker for a week or two. I must have bawled my eyes out almost every night while I stayed there, the thoughts of my parents still fresh in my mind. Now, I just try to remember my parents and overlook the fact that their deaths are so recent. It was only a few nights ago that I'd finally stopped my daily crying over them, so Tinsley's question brings tears to my eyes. They stay there at the edge for a moment but eventually brim over and roll down my cheeks. Tinsley scoots closer and places a hand on my back, rubbing her hand around in soft circles. "It was never my intention to upset you," she coos.

"No, it is quite alright," I say in one small breath. "It'd be best to talk about it to someone, rather than keep it all to myself." I sigh and pick up the napkin that has been delicately placed next to my plate and dab at my tears. I may be one of the more feminine girls in the whole Human Kingdom, but I'm also stronger and braver than I look. I don't cry very often and when I do, I just feel so unprotected and unsafe, unguarded. Tinsley removes her hand and waits patiently.

"They died on the newest invention from Everstile. The Sky Train." I have to shut my eyes tight to prevent any more tears from forming. The Sky Train was the biggest invention of my life time- a continuous monorail that lead all the way through the Kingdom, making stops in the most important cities and a few other towns as well. The tracks and Sky Train themselves hung thousands of feet up in the air. It was a big achievement for the Human Kingdom, for it allowed us to travel great distances in short amounts of time, where as the fey could fly and the warlocks could teleport, if need be. However, on its first day of use it derailed for some unknown reason, falling into a large field below, killing all of its passengers. My parents included among them.

"My parents hated anything that has to do with the city," I admit to the faery girl. "They thought that the more us humans advanced in technology, the more likely it would become that technology will be our demise. I guess I sort of believe that."

"Why did your parents get on the Sky Train then, if they hate technology so much?" Tinsley asks with mild curiosity.

"A rancher had contacted my parents a few nights before, by mail, and told them of a few oxen and horses he had left. They'd written a letter to him before, knowing he owns one of the biggest ranches in the Kingdom, but never heard back from him. He said that they'd have to act fast because other buyers were looking at the oxen as well. Conveniently enough, the Sky Train opened up- and they left. They died trying to examine and hopefully buy some oxen."

"Skye, I'm so, so sorry for your loss," she says softly, her hand hovering above my shoulder. She's not sure if her touch is really needed at the moment and I can't say for sure that it is. I just look down at my plate, unpreventable tears already swelling up in my eyes.

"Would it be decent if I spent some time in my room this afternoon? I think I need to be alone for a little while," I whisper. Tinsley nods.

"I'll retrieve you when it is dinner time," she says as she offers a kind, caring smile. I slowly get to my feet, still trying to blink back my tears. I look down at the faery girl, who still remains seated. She's been nothing but kind to me within the few short day or so that I've been here and even if she was timid at first, she's becoming a real friend to me.

"Thank you," I say sincerely, repaying her kindness with just a simple smile before heading up to my room for the rest of the afternoon.



"I'll be down in a moment," I tell Tinsley. She'd just given me my dress for the evening and I have to say that I'm more than pleased with tonight's selection. The dress is a deep blue and hangs down well past my knees. It's tightened around my middle by a blue ribbon that is only a shade or two lighter than the dress itself and is miraculously fashioned into a rose at my side. Tinsley also had brought me a pair of sea blue flats and they make me feel as if I'm walking on air. The faery nods eagerly and exits my room, giving me a moment to myself.

I'm feeling a million times better than I had been earlier and surprisingly, I hadn't even cried much when I entered my room. Instead, I'd just picked up my book and read until Tinsley had come to bring me my dinner attire. I'm not used to changing every night for dinner, as if it were a special occasion, but that is the life of the wealthy. They are supposed to treat [*i]every[*/i] meal as if it were an occasion, so I'm just fine dressing up for dinner rather than all three meals. I twirl around a few times, the end of my dress flowing out in a beautiful flash of cerulean. My long brown hair has been tied back in a bun, though tiny flowers decorate my scalp. Once again, my bangs have been pinned to the side of my forehead. The dress, my hair, they work together to bring out the clear blue color in my eyes.

I am truly beautiful, aren't I? I ask myself, feeling a bit self-centered. However, I let the feeling stay. i deserve to feel beautiful, don't I? Every girl does. Once I feel as if I'm satisfied with my appearance, I turn on my heel and usher down the hallway and toward the staircase. My foot is just about to fall upon the first step when, suddenly, something slams into my back and I fall forward. I brace myself for the fall, my heart racing, but it doesn't happen. Cold hands pull me back to solid ground and turn me to face my savior. It's Pierre.

"I'm so sorry!" He says hurriedly, concern showing in every aspect of his face. "Are you alright?"

"I, uh," I stare into his fascinating lavender eyes and get lost for a brief moment. It surprises me that he's concerned in even the slightest. Earlier, he acted as if there was nothing interesting about me. Then again, he'd almost knocked me down four flights of stairs. "I'm quite alright. You saved me before the fall."

"Heh, I guess I did," he says, his face already becoming impassive. He's turned off his concern for me as if it is as simple as flipping a switch. "I should watch where I'm going," he mutters softly. He casually tucks one hand into his pocket, which causes me to notice that he's changed for dinner as well. His gray hair looks as if he'd just rolled out of bed, it’s layered nicely but seems impossible to tame correctly - but it's not entirely unbecoming of him. He wears nice gray loafers, straight gray pants, and a white button up covered by a silver and white plaid vest. The long silver chain of a pocket watch hangs out of his berate pocket. He looks dignified, and comparing our attire, we'd go together quite nicely.

"Shall we proceed to the dining room?" I ask him quietly. He gives me a short nod. Already fed up with his attitude, I push ahead of him and hurry down the stairs where as he takes them one step at a time, having not a worry in the world. Down in the foyer, music plays and the faeries are dancing and laughing. I dare look back at Pierre who just stares straight ahead, apparently showing no interest in his own kind as well. I resist the urge to shake my head and walk into the dining room and take my seat facing the window, as I had last night. Uncle Edwin isn't present yet, but it doesn't matter. I know he's working hard on whatever project it is that he wants to show me. A moment later, Pierre takes a seat in a chair two down from mine.

I start picking up some of the platters of food that have been so graciously placed upon the table, taking only what looks appealing to me. Eventually, I end up with a turkey breast, an apple, scalloped potatoes, and I even pour myself a glass of wine. Pierre, however, just picks out one of the various fruits -one of fey variety- and sets it in front of him. Curiously, I raise my eyebrow to him. "Is that all you're going to eat?"

"Yes," he mutters. He picks up the fruit, its pale blue skin shining in the candle. He breathes upon it, rubbing away at it with his sleeve. When it's polished enough, he takes a long, drawn out bite. "What more could I possibly need?"

I think of several smart-alec remarks, any of which could have easily sparked an argument, but I bite my tongue. Pierre obviously is not a friendly type of fellow. There is no point in trying to be nice to him, much less trying to be rude to him either. I sigh and shift uncomfortably in my chair. Luckily, that is the moment Tinsley enters the room. She claps her hands to get both our attentions. "Master Edwin will be joining you shortly. He's just putting the finishing touches on his invention. He says that it's alright for you to start dining without him."

"Thank you, Tinsley," I smile at my friend. She smiles and returns to the foyer to join her kind in whatever festivities they're offering. Pierre casually takes a bite of his fruit every so often as I pick at my food, really not in the mood to eat any more. Being around Pierre was slightly unsettling. His beauty stuns me but his attitude makes me wish he would leave my new home and never return. He has barely spoken to me at all but when he has, he's less than enthusiastic about it. If it weren't for those big purple eyes that I occasionally feel on me as I eat, I would have felt that he wants absolutely nothing to do with humans at all.

Though Tinsley said my Uncle would be along shortly, it's nearly nine o'clock before he calls out to us. Pierre and I had sat at the table for nearly two hours or so now, trying to look at anything but each other. Occasionally he'd cough or even make a remark about the wine, which we both kept our glasses with, but other than that we were completely silent. As soon as Uncle Edwin calls out to us, however, we both raise our heads and listen. "Skye, Pierre, come quickly!"

We glance at each other briefly and jump to our feet. We walk briskly from the dining room and into the foyer, where most of the faeries have cleared out by now, and to the workshop door. Pierre pushes it open, holds it, and lets me through first. He may be quiet and he may have little mood swings, but he was a gentleman. The workshop is lit brightly with several oil lamps and there's scrap metal thrown across the floor. I have to keep my eyes strained on the ground as the faery boy and I make our way to the man in the corner. Uncle Edwin is still fidgeting with something in front of him, but I can hear him humming a happy tune. Whatever it is that he has invented this time, it is a success.

I lean to the side, trying to see over Uncle Edwin's shoulder, but he seems to sense my intentions because he moves ever so slightly, blocking my view. I lean to my other side and that's when I see it. At first I don't recognize it but after a moment, I do. Set upon the table is three small metal avians. They are -or at least one of them- the birds I had seen last night at dinner, flying past the window. Looking at it now, I can see why it had been flying so slowly. It's made entirely of silver metal with painted black eyes and a few blue streaks of paint on its wings. Its tiny, pointed beak has been carefully painted a metallic orange and looks razor sharp. If it were fully painted, I think I would have believed it were a real bird.

"Is that the one I saw last night? It flew past the window during dinner and-"

"No, no," Uncle Edwin says hastily. "Well, yes, but no. That was a prototype, my dear girl. It was flawed- it couldn't fly right. I've found the problem, I've perfected the product- and now look! Here it is!"

"Uncle, it's just a metal bird. What possible use could it have?"

"It's not just a metal bird, Skye," Pierre joins in. I'm very surprised he even remembers my name. "This metal bird can fly. It can literally see, hear, and think. It's life within metal."

"It's a fully functional being," Uncle Edwin proceeds, "It has all the makings of a real bird, and acts like one. I created what is the very definition of life. The only differences are its skin is made of metal, it doesn't require food nor drink."

"It doesn't require the essence of a beating heart, either," chimes in Pierre. His eyes fall over me, lighting up. He loves inventing, just as much as my Uncle. "Do you know what that means?"

"N-not really," I mumble. I'm beginning to feel as if I am nothing but an ignoramus to the two men before me. It seems odd enough to make an already living animal again, out of metal, but if it's what he wants to do then so be it. But, in all honesty, I don't see how such a creature can be useful. It's a bird that does not require a heart, nothing more.

"This bird is just the beginning, Skye. With an invention like this... Your uncle and I, we can create all sorts of animals that don't require hearts or food. Oxen that can help pull the heaviest of carts, horses to draw carriages, carrier pigeons and the like. If these creatures require no heart, they cannot die. We can sell them to townsfolk and they can benefit from a creature who can perform great feats without much maintenance."

Suddenly, the usefulness of the creatures finally swells within me. Instead of using animals that often get tired or even die, they can use these machines that never tire, never need to stop, and can live on forever. This could not only bring a great profit to my Uncle, but this could change the whole agricultural business. With these special oxen, farmers can move more products in bigger loads and at faster rates. It's a faster, more efficient method and surprisingly enough, I support it.

"May I?" I ask, a smile upon my face as I gesture toward one of the metal birds. Uncle Edwin nods quickly and I cautiously scoop one of the birds into my hand. "Do they have a name?"

"Mechamals," he pronounces the word slowly. I smile. The name is odd but it fits quite well. Suddenly, the small bird is in my hands, its cold metal wings trying to push my hands open. With a soft giggle, I tighten my grip just enough so that it won't escape. Its tiny metal head cocks toward me, painted eyes somehow curious. It opens its beak and it lets out a short little chirp. It really is a living bird. Uncle Edwin must have seen the smile on my face because he says, "You may keep it, if you wish."

"Oh, Uncle! I couldn't possibly-"

"No," Pierre says, a faint smile on his face. "Take it, please. It suits you."

"I," I look down at the bird and it looks back at me. For being created from nothing but metal and gears, it is possibly one of the most adorable creatures I have ever seen. We do make quite a pair. "I think I will."

It is in that moment that I finally feel like I have a family again. I feel as if I can get used to my Uncle's crazy inventions, Pierre's bizarre moods, Anastas's kind presence, and Tinsley's friendliness. They could all come to love me, I realize, just as I'm beginning to love them. However, it is with that little bird I hold clutched in my palm that my whole life would change yet again.