Love is in the air

[npc-excolo.livejournal.com]

Sunday, February 14th
Valentine's Day

I sit on my bed with my legs crossed, writing real careful in my notebook. MRS CLARA GRANGER I write, all tidy, then underneath I practice my signature. Clara Granger. That nice man at the market swore it wouldn't take too long for him to propose after he drank the potion. After I practice my signature a few times I write our names together. PETER AND CLARA, and I put them inside a nice big heart.

I hear Momma shouting for me and I sigh. I know she won't approve when Peter and I get together, cos he is a bunch older than me and she says seventeen is way too young to settle down. But I know she married Pop at nineteen, so she's just a hypocrite. And Peter's a real good catch - got his own job, his own place. There's that Maya of course to worry about, I think, and I push my pencil a bit too hard into the page and the point breaks. But once Peter's had the potion he won't remember that he likes her. I just need to work out how to get it to him.

Momma shouts again.

"Coming!" I shout. I know she wants me to go to that dumb Valentine's market and help her sell quilts. Ugh. But Peter might be around town, so I check my hair is nice before I go down.

***

This punch just don't look too appetising. I sigh and shout for Clara again. What is that girl doing? Probably dreaming about that barman. She thinks I don't know she's moony about him. I'm just glad he's got a sweetheart, or else he might go for my Clara - she's real pretty and men like adoring girls. He's much too old for her. I taste the punch and it's real nice, course it is, made from our fruits, but the colour just don't pop. Feeling a bit guilty, I get out some food colourant and drop it in, and it goes a nice reddish colour. That's about right for Valentine's, ain't it? I stopper up the barrel. Clara comes down.

"Get those quilts in the cart, will you?" I say, hustling her out and then getting the punch on the wagon. Roads are clear, so we get set up easy. Just a few stalls for this - jewellery, flowers, all kinds of novelties. I put out the prettiest quilts - maybe some guy'll think one'd make a nice present for his wife, and more practical than earbobs - and set up the punch.

"Free punch, sir?" I say, holding out a cup. After a bit of prodding I get Clara dishing up punch too. Hopefully it'll be a good day.

[OPEN]
[Closed]

Comments

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

Dana laughs at my reaction, not mockingly, & tells me she 'wished for it', this greenery. I'm sure there's more to it, but that is the core of it. This level of creation, illusion, whatever, doesn't come easily. I start listing in my head the any number of things that could do this, none of them particularly friendly. That is, unless they want something.

"As for what I am, if I answer you this will you answer that same question for me?" Like that. "I said I would," I reply, sounding more nervous than I had intended. Whatever she is, we're in her sanctum, her domain, & I walked right into it, like a novice. This place is- it's fascinating, but probably more dangerous than it looks. As is Dana, probably. Most things are, especially the beautiful ones. Got to watch my step.

[danashee.livejournal.com]

She is becoming nervous as she answers meI said I would, I find myself wanting to soothe her, but I think that my touch would make her more nervous at moment so I settle for another smile.

"Then all is well. As for what I am-Have you heard of the Aes Sidhe?" I can't imagine that she hasn't...but I have been told that not so many mortals know of us as used to.

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Have you heard of the Aes Sidhe?"

I stop & think for a moment. Gather myself & breath, rubbing the back of my neck. I know the term, but the details are fuzzy. I have a brief memory of Krystopher &... someone he knew, but- but it's lost. I remember enough to answer her question, though.

"Yes, I have. Long time ago." To think I could meet one of her kind, here of all places! The resonance on the coin makes sense now. Summer wind - she must be what was once called Seelie, if that term is even used anymore. I look her over, her bright hair & golden eyes & realize this must be a seeming, a disguise. Of course. "Glamour," I whisper, looking back to the leafy branches that surround us. That's why I couldn't pin it down, why the pattern eluded me. Did- did she enchant me? I look down to the muffin she bought me. It's possible, but- but it doesn't matter now. It will last until it wears off, not much I can do but stay aware.

I look back to her, trying to stay composed as I reach forward to touch one of the leaves near her hair. Such a compelling illusion. "How much of this is real?" I ask, but I think I know the answer.

[danashee.livejournal.com]

She considers, rubbing gently at the back of her neck just where I would rub if I thought she would let me. Finally she admits that she has though it was long ago.

She looks me over carefully and I straighten up, smoothing my coat and hair under her regard. She whispers under her breath as she turns her attention, equally careful as that she gave to me, to the branches and leaves nearby. She looks my way even as she reaches forward with one of her lovely long fingered hands to touch one leaf. So close and yet there is such distance between us.

How much of this is real? She asks, but there is something in her eyes, something new and wary, something I wish wasn't there. I shake my braids loose and shed my coat as I give her the answer. "As real as you wish it be, of course."

That is the trick behind all glamour really, the wanting for something other than what is before you to be real. And for a time it can be.

I watch her to see how she take it. I do not want her to be angry or fearful. I tilt my head a little to one side. "Do you not like it?"

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

"As real as you wish it be, of course." Of course. She shakes her hair loose from her braids, spilling down her back like sunlight, & I'm overcome with the urge to touch it. I swallow hard. "And this?" I ask, tentatively touching a stray lock of her hair. Warm, soft, & very real-feeling. I pull my hand away quickly, feeling something close to embarrassment. I run my hand through my own hair, absently noticing how coarse it feels in comparison.

She tilts her head as she watches me. "Do you not like it?" She almost seems... sad, & that's the last thing I want her to feel, I realize. I also realize something else, quite suddenly.

"This- is for- for me?" She made this room for me. Why should she try so hard to impress me? All at once I feel like an idiot; she's been nothing but nice to me & asked nothing in return... yet, & I haven't even complemented her or anything. I've never been very good at this kind of thing. Gods, I feel like a teenager dealing with a-

A crush. And now I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

"It's-" say something nice, dammit! "It's fantastic." And I do mean it, in every sense of the word.

[danashee.livejournal.com]

And this? She asks gently touching one lock of my hair. I very nearly hold my breath at that, such a light touch and yet I would swear I am more aware of it than of anything else.

"Quite real." I assure her. And it is. I have done nothing to it save loose the braids that held it in place.

I can see the moment she realizes that this room is a gift for her and she is overwhelmed, This- is for- for me? I nod.

The colour rises in her cheeks once more and Silence is nearly speechless. It's fantastic. She finally manages and I smile at her. Oh good! I was afraid she was going to say she didn't like it after all.

"It pleases me that you should like it. Will you have a seat?" I gesture to the lovely moss covered ground within the bower of leaves.

[silence-excolo.livejournal.com]

She tells me her appearance, or at least her hair, is quite real, the gestures towards some mossy ground, asking me to sit. I nod rather stiffly, shrugging out of my jacket. It's pleasantly warm in here, at least. I then sit, a bit quicker than I mean to, fairly plopping down on my ass like I would when normally sitting on the ground. I at least keep from slouching. I tug absently at the end of my sleeves, wishing I had worn something a little nicer than my old long-sleeved T. Pull it together, girl.

I wait for her to sit before speaking. After all, she told me what she is. I should keep my end. "My turn, I guess," I start, still fidgeting with my sleeve. "Ever heard of the term 'mage'?" More than likely, but I'll wait before saying more. I've not even told anyone in the carnivale what I am & yet with Dana- I gotta struggle to keep my head.

[danashee.livejournal.com]

She is somewhat stiff in her acceptance of my request but nonetheless accepts it. She sheds her coat and I find myself looking at her in wonder. The strange tunic she wears, the way the light dapples on her pale skin, the abruptness with which she moves.

I settle down by her side, my skirt gently spreading in a green pool by my feet, my loose hair a cloak about my shoulders listening as she finally speaks. My turn, I guess,Ever heard of the term 'mage'? I incline my head as I turn the word around in my mind. I think I have heard of it before, a term used for those mortals who are not so blind to the currents of Power as most are.

"Aye, that I have. "