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oneirataxia-girl · 9 months

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⇝ DRABBLE -- The Faeries In The Woods

this is the first piece of writing i've done in MONTHS, @ariparri the cardverse au has me in a chokehold and this is the product of annoyed & tired alvita doing everything she can to get her mind off schoolwork, ended up writing the first draft in one day (???! i am astonished by this too) and uh yeah, it's rough it's not my usual style but hey, my writing skills are basically the equivalent of sandpaper in terms of roughness so it's definitely going to be bad no matter what lol quick author's note before we get started though: for those who've known me since my hphm phase, you might recognize the "faeries in the woods" as the arcane-zheng family who i criminally ignored in favor of building the alvina/talbott ship (yes i am aware that it was a mistake), but while the basic setup of the fae family is still the same, they all have completely different names which i hope i'll be able to introduce to you guys in a later piece; this is more like "setting the vibe" word vomit than anything tbh. but hope you guys enjoy!!

You're a child, barely able to run without stumbling once or twice; you've met the kids on either side of your house and the ones a little further away too, and you've all got the thirst for information your parents say is natural for a Club to have.

The forest has been off limits ever since you remember, but that doesn't stop you from running with your playmates to the clearing barely a one-minute walk in the woods, nor does it prevent the answering frenzy your parents were in to get you back to the village.

"Don't ever go near the place!" Your papa yells at you, "If the fairies --"

Your mama makes a noise you can't understand, and Papa stops talking in favor of trapping you in a big bear hug. You giggle and wrap your own arms around him too, and you forget all about the silver stars staring at you from the edge of the clearing.

You're older now, knobbly knees decorated with scrapes and bruises from your frequent meetings with the stony ground; your friends are older too, and you all start to wonder why the forest is always shrouded in the dark, even when the sun shines high in the noon sky.

Ma cuffs you on the head for asking, but you keep at it, chipping away at her resolve and Pa's in search of an answer.

Eventually, Pa tells you that all will be revealed when you're eleven.

Eleven? You're barely half past the age of eight! It's going to be ages until you learn anything about the forest.

Pa and Ma are always telling you to fight in your chase for knowledge, and this is something to learn, no? So in order to find your explanations, you gather your best friends and pool your wits together to pursue the thing your family and kingdom puts so much importance on: answers.

Your merry troop marches on the pebble-lined path into the forest as soon as your best friend and a boy you don't like come up with a plan.

You come out of the forest drenched in red; some of it yours, most of it from the barely-breathing boy being rushed to the medical building.

You're not a kid anymore now, scrapes long faded into light scars; not all of your friends are older, and you wonder if the one that is gone was taken away by the faeries.

Faeries, not fairies, because you know now that the things lurking in the trees aren't sparkling-winged fairies ready to grant you a wish, but monsters with silver eyes and teeth stained crimson with the blood of their victims. Pa tells you this while Ma rolls up her left sleeve for the first time in your memory to show you the scars she got from the fae family -- probably the mother of the current set of spawn, she tells you.

"How do you know?" You ask her, leaning your head on her lap.

Ma lifts her arm, the raised skin of the healed wound darker than the rest of her skin, "No animal has claws that can do this kind of damage, Darling."

Your forehead wrinkles as you take in this information, and presently you ask whether it could be a weapon.

Pa shakes his head this time.

"If it was a person, they would've been found soon after they went into the forest," He tells you.

"Maybe they're very sneaky," You argue, "Or maybe they always get in and out from the Spades' side of the woods."

But even as you speak the words, you know that they were just that: words.

No human has stayed in the forest for over a day and survived. The longest surviving one was Ma, trapped in a bog for about sixteen hours on a forage for herbs.

Pa pulls aside later to tell you that when they found her, she was muttering about silver-eyed fae and how they gave her a "message to deliver."

She doesn't remember any of that.

You're tying your bootlaces by yourself now, mentally cataloging the plants you're supposed to provide to help make the prototype for a new distress signal; your friends have all grown up as well, some of them left the village for bigger things and some stayed behind with you, none of them are willing to go back to the forest without a weapon by their side anymore.

Can't fault them, you're the same, too.

The only stars you see are the ones in the night sky, fiery balls of gas that live light years away from the small village on this side of the Clubs-Spades border, and you're forcibly reminded of a time when silver stars plague your head.

You shake said head before you stand up to walk towards the academic buildings. The doctors said it'd get better in time, but sometimes you feel like it's only getting worse.

As you kick away stones in your trot, you bump into a girl -- short and thin, with a mane of dark hair that reaches her waist, she turns around and you take note of the dark shades hiding her eyes and the shaky step she takes to get away from you.

A green cape covers most of her top half and you frown when you notice that both the green fabric and the dark tights she wears are ripped. Did she run away from home? Why was she wearing dark glasses?

"Irene!" Comes a call, you turn to see a older guy with the same dark glasses stride towards the girl. His clothes were also worn, and you catch a few sympathetic glances thrown their way by some of your fellow villagers.

Not from the village, that much was clear. Maybe they were running away from Spades, you hear that they're in terrible turmoil and its people are leaving in whatever way possible.

All hearsay though, no evidence has ever come by to confirm this.

The guy throws an arm around the girl and you notice that he has the same twig-like frame, barely a head taller than the girl; he has the same messy hair though, and he barely spares you a glance before dragging his sister away.

You watch their backs retreat, and you notice that their feet don't make a sound on the gravel ground.

You shrug your shoulders and continue on your way, pebbles crunching underfoot as you walk.

Perhaps the refugee rumors are true after all.

You're finally allowed to drink in the open now, grin wide as you accept your first glass of beer from your ma and act as if you aren't used to the bitter taste linger after you swallow; your friends cheer and clap you on your back, even the ones that went to the big cities, for everyone still alive had come back to celebrate your birthday. You clink your glass with a shy smile at one of your best friends and tip your head back to chug the rest of the beer in one go.

Pa gives you a suspicious look. You try coughing to pretend that it didn't go down like water. It doesn't seem to work, but he only brings a finger to his lips and turns away.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Second, third, and fourth mugs of beer come and go; you toss jokes and barbs at your friends and shrug off their laughing sneers. Conversation flows like your drinks and it eventually follows dirt-strewn trails to the shadowy woods just a few steps from the village borders.

"You remember the faeries our parents used to scare us with?" One of your friend asks, cheeks ruddy from the alcohol.

They've come back from the city just for your birthday, so you bite your lip and stifle the urge to correct their mistake.

Another one of your friends does it for you, this one having lived in the house a five-minute walk from yours for their whole life; it sparks a debate whether there is anything in the forest other than the typical trees that make one lose all sense of direction and odd creatures.

Silver stars blink on the very edge of your vision. You turn around and see nothing but yellow light bathing your party. You turn back and ignore the feeling of something watching you.

Feelings -- such fickle things, you muse, making think there hid things when there are none. No wonder why your kingdom stresses the importance of logic and reasoning.

A fist punches your shoulder, it's your best friend, smile as lopsided as the day you two met, "What do you think? You reckon faeries live there?"

The rest of the chatter dies, eyes waiting for your answer expectantly.

Licking your lips, you hesitate to give an answer. You still recall the silver stars bursting in your head and the wails of your friends, but they seem sharper than they should be, and the stars now just seem like normal migraine-induced sights.

The window allows you to look out at the forest. It's as dark and gloomy as always, not a lick of life shakes its leaves.

Then, your mug crashes onto the floor.

Three -- no, four -- figures emerge from the depths of the woods, three of them with silver stars for eyes; the last one to emerge stands still while the six silver stars blink in unison, the only one to have the faint outline of their silhouette be the only thing separating them from the night.

You hear an exhale close to your ear and you realize that everyone has piled up behind you. It's your ma, she has a hand on your shoulder and you spot the scars running down her arm when your turn your head to look at her.

Her grip on your shoulder tightens and her face goes pale. Whirling your head back to the clear glass, you see six silver eyes pointing directly at you.

A drum starts pounding in your head, so you close your eyes for a fraction of a second to shush it. You open your eyes to meet a sea of black outside your window.

Nothing was left of the four creatures, not even a crunch of a footstep.

A beat.

"What," Someone finally says, "Was that?"

You want to say it was the faeries, but those are anything but fae.

You're woken up by the sound of shouting now, and you leap out of bed when the iron tang of blood assaults your nose.

Bootlaces untied, you run out to carnage: you think someone screams when you see Ma lying on the floor motionless, and you follow the direction of the scars on her arm to see Pa.

Their fingers just barely brush each others'.

Your throat burns a white-hot pain and you crumple to the floor and you crawl to the window to see bodies on the gravel ground. You slide down and close your eyes and beg for this to be just a beer-induced nightmare.

A resounding boom shakes your eardrums and your stomach drops further when you register where the sound came from:

The distress signal. The one you helped to make.

Shouts turn to cries and whimpers and gasps, and then even those are cut off. You glance at Grandma's door and decide you don't want to open it.

Nothing disturbs the gravel path before the front gate squeaks open. You press yourself closer to the wall.

Moonlight bleeds into the room as the front door clicks open, you wonder whether you'll be able to make a run for it.

"Swear I could hear a heartbeat in here."

"Don't these --" You watch as someone seemingly nudges your ma's top half -- "have a kid? You two saw them before, right?"

You think you would remember seeing monsters with silver eyes --

oh.

You did see them before, they just weren't dumb enough to show their eyes.

A cry leaves you as the collar of your jacket yanks you up. Six silver eyes blink at you.

"Sorry," No flash of fangs glitter from the speaker's mouth, "Blame your friend for this."

You struggle and claw at the vice grip on your collar tightening.

You sputter as you suddenly drop to the ground. You think you see white lights and you wonder if you've joined your family as shouts grow near.

Something is shoved in your mouth and you want to wail as the bitter taste of the thing infects your mouth.

A blinding glare shoots through every opening your home has. The three creatures hiss and crouch down to escape the light. They start talking, and you work on getting the foul-tasting thing out of your mouth.

A growl jerks you from your endeavor. You see the smallest of the three standing.

"It's the only way." One of the other two states simply.

The small one scoffs and the light turns her dark hair into a rippling waterfall, "Don't tell me you think we can't take a couple more humans out."

The other speaker turns her head to look at you -- silver stars framed by wide eyes, no flash of teeth when she opens her mouth to say -- "There's only going to be more of them the longer we stay."

"So we should all go!"

"Too dangerous," It's the guy, the one who dragged his younger sister away that time you bumped into her. She's the one they're convincing to do something.

You don't catch the rest of the conversation, your eyes are getting heavier by the second, everything's gone out of focus...

The last thing you hear is a chilling howl, and the last thing you see is Ma offering her scarred arm for you to grab.

#not proofread whole so its probably messy #but i just wanted to get it out #also irene is NOT one of the faerie siblings' names!!#“you” simply heard it wrong lol #pls feel free to clown with me in this for i fear there is no sign of me stopping #and i don't even have a face claim for any of them yet 😭#alvita’s writing

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