Friday, July 23, 2010


Prompt: His mood matched their weather; inclement.


Response: Dreams

I watched Lawrence's wings curl downward, the black edging bleeding into the naturally sky-blue membrane. His face was absolutely stoic - as usual - but he had looked dejected for days.

I did not say anything - it was not even my place to notice, much less comment on, his mood. I just watched and worried. The lithe faerie kept very much to the inexpressive mandates of the royal court, but his wings were always perked and a smile usually danced like water ripples in his eyes.

He noticed me watching. His gaze was imperious - perched as he was, high above the patio on a bench formed by a fallen tree that had grown right back into the house. The storm clouds at his back made him look like an avenging deity. "Is there a problem, Catherine?"

"No, my Lord." I could feel myself flush with embarrassment at being caught looking. I had been chosen to serve in Lawrence's house because I had an innate ability to mind my own business, but it was impossibly difficult not to pine after my master. He was perfect - pure blood and royal and kind and libidinously attractive.

He flitted from the bench so quickly I almost lost track of his movements. He landed lightly right in front of me - looking down at me. His expression was haughty yet apathetic. He looked as though he could not be bothered to care.

My eyes darted to his wings. They hung loose and languid - I mourned for him.

He was glaring when I looked back up at him. He leaned close - close enough that I could smell the royal court on his skin, an indescribably desirous spice - and a spark of anger entered his voice. "Keep your pity to yourself."

He strode away. I wanted to call him back - to stand up to him. Had it been one of my many dreams of him I would have called him back. I would have told him he was a coward, I would have yelled at him and told him he truly deserved my pity he was so unable to express himself. And he would have turned back, he would have flitted back to me and smiled at my accusations. He would have apologized. He would have kissed my indignation away with gentleness.

The Lawrence I dreamed about would never have left me to clean the patio - chastised and crying in the impending rain.

Notes: I'm pretty big on fantasy and I've come to realize recently that I haven't written any real fantasy for this project thus far (except maybe Second Life and, of course, Azure). So, with that in mind, you can expect the next few prompts to have responses that may or may not involve fairies, merpeople, centaurs, shifters, sirens, sorcerers and perhaps even vampires (but probably not).

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