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    1. Glaw 11 yrs ago

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Felix blinked slowly at her. He stared at her with a squinched, incredulous look. "Are you sure you're not an alien?" he said, finally, after a long pause. "Because you look like somethin' out of a penny-novel and you're talkin' outright gibberish. You kissed me and then you could talk." He pointed to his mouth, which was still sort of tingling from the experience, and he wondered if he was going to die now of some alien disease. "Yeah," he said slowly, straightening his spine, "you've got to be an alien. If you've never heard of Philadelphia, then I s'pose you've never heard of Pennsylvania, or New York, or the United States of America. You're not even from Earth, are you?"

He was taking it rather well, he thought. Before, he'd assumed that if he'd ever come face to face with an alien he'd drop dead from fright on the spot. But then, Rue wasn't a little green man with a spaceship: she was a cute girl with a tail. Big difference.

The trees parted ahead of them, and the tents came into view. Workers were hauling wood and posts and signs back and forth, a group of acrobats practiced catching one another, a pair of conjoined twins were singing a duet with music held out before them.

"As long as you're stuck here without your spaceship," Felix continued conversationally, "you might as well come along with the circus. Tonight's our last show, then we're packing up, off to Virginia. On the way you can look for this laboratory of yours -- or your spaceship. How'd you get in the woods? Can't you just go home the way you came?"
Without a word, August leaned down and hooked his arm under her knees; he shifted her comfortably against him before moving on through the dark woods, one careful step at a time. They weren't moving much faster.

"Your flattery won't make up for the fact that you're heavier than you think you are," he griped with a small smirk, "and now I really can't see where I'm walking." He really, really couldn't see where he was going, and now his depth perception was gone as well. Sam was already in need of recovery without being dropped onto the rocks and branches as well.

Despite his concentration in keeping them both upright and out of the mud, Sam's words, her trusting touch, and her head on his shoulder weren't lost on him. The rigidity and anger that had for so long fueled his fight were increasingly impossible to maintain in her presence; he might even say he felt peaceful with her warm in his arms, as if everything really could be all right. His mind was clear and calm. But he couldn't afford to think this way -- not until the queen was gone.

He felt the prick of a blade at his back. "Keep moving, slimewad," Coralie's voice barked from behind them. "Hurt the girl and I dice your dick."

Alphonse and Florian emerged as well from the brush, looking worriedly up at Sam. "What've ya done to her?" Florian demanded.

August groaned, rolling his eyes, and he took a defiant step forward. "You're in the way," he growled.

Alphonse called, "Sam! Are you quite all right? What's happened?"
August caught her as she fell, and he almost expected her to be half-gone, a shell of her former self, befitting of a bad trade with the fairies. In a guarded panic he supported her, his sword on the ground, and he moved her hair from her face so he could better see her state of mind. She was definitely weak, but the color had returned to her face and he could feel her heart and her breath. It was a little comfort, at least.

"You had a bad dream," he replied gruffly, and he carefully kept his voice even and his expression firm, though his own heart was still beating furiously. She didn't have to know how close she'd come to disappearing forever into the fairy realm. She didn't have to know what he'd done. He supported her with an arm around her waist, and he draped her arm behind his neck. "You were sleepwalking. Come on, can you walk?"

There was a distinct tingling in his eye, sometimes accompanied by a crackle of energy that felt like it popped and swirled behind his vision -- a vision that was steadily fading. The color of his right eye was swirling and changing subtly, now green now blue and orange-purple, but he had no way of knowing he looked any different. The vision in his right eye was blurring and growing darker, soon to be gone completely. He had thought it would be fine just to lose one eye -- he had another, he could afford it -- but he'd never counted on how terrifying it is to watch the world go dark, to lose something he'd been born with, even if it was only an eye. He had to concentrate on Sam.

August was quiet and rigid, and he walked slowly for her benefit, pointedly ignoring the fairy girl on the rock. With any luck, Sam wouldn't notice.

"You should go back and sleep," he said firmly, if only to distract her. "Not in Raquelle's tent. You'll stay where I can keep an eye on you. All right with that?" He never wanted her to leave his sight again.
The lion stopped, and his tail swished thoughtfully. His wings shifted, the feathers ruffled and soothed. "Not your freedom," he growled quietly. He turned his great head, and his eyes flashed in the darkness. "Mine."

Slowly, he turned around and padded through the sand toward Cyrus, and he peered at the boy carefully, reading his intentions and worth. This was a young man dedicated to what was right -- but he simply went about fighting for it in all the wrong ways. One day he might be a respectable leader. Someone worth trusting. He was, after all, the only human to have bothered speaking to him. Ralarulash had nearly forgotten the language before Cyrus had replied to his call.

He stood before Cyrus, and he showed his teeth in quiet warning. "Lay your hand on my head," he commanded. "Do not touch my wings or I will rip your throat out." He waited, quiet and uncertain, for Cyrus to do as he asked. "Now close your eyes and open your mind to me."

There was silence. Ralarulash did his best to calm himself down, once he was sure Cyrus wasn't about to go back on his word. He wasn't even sure this would work -- but he felt their minds linking, if only faintly, and he knew instinctively Cyrus' name, where he came from, why he was here.

The thoughts and memories that appeared in Cyrus' mind were slow and dim, like something long forgotten: blood and fear, a curse, loss and rage.

"Repeat after me," the lion growled -- and he began to recite an incantation in the old language. He spoke slowly and clearly, and he waited for Cyrus to echo his words.

It was the spell that would break his curse.
Raquelle stared dully at the mirror, and she tossed it into a corner of the tent and rolled over in bed with a huff. What did Mother know, anyway? Who did she think she was, to give orders from so far away, to assume she knew what was going on? Sure, Narissa was powerful -- and sure she'd manipulated a lot of important people -- but she didn't understand. And she'd called Raquelle stupid, even after the princess had divulged her brilliant plan. Nobody who calls her stupid can expect her cooperation. In teenage defiance, the princess seethed and muttered to herself, and she pretended to sleep, determined to do things the way she wanted to do them, to hell with her controlling mother. She would win Liam's heart, her way, whatever it takes.
August breathed through his teeth. His shoulders rose and fell. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword, but he dared not swing it; Sam was the thread that trembled delicate and in pain between them. The blue orbs cast a haunting glow on his furious face.

Images flashed through his mind. He could threaten the fairy -- he could strike -- and risk losing Sam forever. He could threaten the fairy's sister, hold her hostage at the edge of his blade -- but that would achieve little but to add to Sam's agony. The Marshal snarled and shifted a foot forward, a stance reserved for the duel, but still he stayed his hand. Sam's tears dripped from her chin, glimmering in the lights. So many lives lost. So many lives. Not hers.

"I will give you my weapon," he barked, and even before he'd finished speaking the fairy was laughing at him. He had to bargain so much higher -- but what did he have to give? What did he have that could possibly be worth Sam's life? He watched her vacant face -- not long ago it had been smiling, a brightness in the dark. Now, and forever more it would be empty. He wouldn't let that happen.

"I will give you knowledge," he growled, and he raised his voice above the fairy's renewed laughter. "My memories! Everything I've ever known, my past, you'll have it."

The fairy prince only smiled at him, smug.

August studied him. He stood straight, his expression like stone. "My future, then." His smirk was cruel and bitter. "Everything I will do, everything I will become, will be yours. Experience in this world is the one thing you can't have, isn't it? You're tethered to the fairy roads and the moonlight, forced to wait for what you want to wander into your traps. Live through me. I'll trade you my right eye -- its sight will be yours."
He's wonderful and SO evil. XD zomg I want to punch him in the face. August is probably imagining very violent things.

I'll have him offer something up, but do feel free to have your evil fairy deem it insufficient. Actually, it's not much of a barter if August's first offer is enough. ;)
Buuut I really am too tired and my cat is TOO ANNOYING for me to post anything else tonight. Tomorrow, surely!
Whatever you decide, it'll be awesome. ;) I like it!
Oohh, like a willful sacrifice is worth more than something taken by force, somehow? And, yay for inspiration!
Hmm, maybe he has to sacrifice something of himself? You said she's been chosen by some powerful fairy, who probably won't give her up so easy, unless placated. x3

Or maybe he has to make a pact with the fairy, or promise him a better victim?
Go for iiiiitttt! :D Flying by the seat of your pants is the best way!
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