No One Touches the Faerie

[Vaeluthil Whitevale]

Feb 20th, 2016:

Convinced that he had been sleeping for the entirety of her duel, as Cael and Vaeluthil left the Annex in favor of the market on their way back to Seaside, she regaled him with the tale of how she defeated the greatest of meanieheads, Salvador Delahada. It was a harrowing story of valiant heroes and dastardly villains that began with the villain jumping to a quick advantage over our young heroine. Before the villain could finish her though, the little hero's magnificent ironwood sword (made especially for her by the Bravest of Adventurers) struck true and she fought back until she won. Even on the cusp of victory when the bad guy threatened those she cared about she held it together, finishing him off with a violent whack that would have made even the Queen of Hearts proud for how hard she tried to take off his head. Alas, she hadn't, and Salvador Delahada would survive to tell the tale of the day he was bested by the Greatest Baroness of Seaside, the Supreme Adventurer Vaeluthil Rosemary Marigold Whitevale. Of course, it hadn't exactly happened that way, but the way she told it made it sound totally believable in her head. By the time she was done, they had made it to the heart of the marketplace and she slithered off of his shoulder in favor of dashing ahead.

"Oh, oh, oh, do we want ice cream or do we want the not-brownies or do we want the cake funnels or do we want taffy?" Cael was obviously expected to help her figure that out. It was an important question after all.

With a patience that would have with worth sainthood in most respectable (and a few irreputable) religions, Cael listened to the exuberance of her words in companionable silence, save for the occasional impressed grunt or low whistle. It was his small, subtle way of doting upon the little faerie, though he had seen the fight in its entirety and didn't need to have it explained. And yet, there was still something endearing in her telling of it, with all of its romanticized innocence. A small smile pursed his lips, little distracts both within his head and without causing his attention to wonder at the finale and causing him to nearly drop her when she sought her freedom to bound ahead. "Mayhap cold ice cream an' warm brownies, little dove. Very different but very good together."

For just a moment, maybe a half dozen, the druid lost sight of her when he occupied himself with catching the arm of one of the city's notable message runners. Coins were dredged up from the bottom of a leather pouch and dropped into the young man's hand as he repeated the brief message back to Cael meant for the head steward of the manor in Seaside.

Cael was patient, Cael was kind, Cael was everything she wanted in a friend and more. So it was his input that she took most to heart and as he offered his suggestion, she let out a squeak of delight and bobbed an excited nod of her red capped head. "Ice cream and warm brownies. But nae real brownies, o' course. Yes, this is what we'll do."

She knew just the place. Of course, she knew all of the places in the city to get the best sweets, but this one in particular had quite delectable baked goods and a decent variety of soft serve ice cream. She took for granted how far he was behind her. After all, he always caught up, moving at his slow Cael pace like the big sleepy bones that he was. So she dashed left and then right, took another right and veered south. Not too much further would take her to Little Elfhame but she didn't dare go that far. Instead she came up short, turning one last time to make the final leg of her... what was that? Her chin lifted and she sniffed at the air. Honey. Sweet, fresh, gooey honey. She drifted off course and down a side street, her button nose turned up to guide her.

"Oi, dove, ye lookin' fer dis?" A voice called to her from the darkness and her aimless wandering screeched to a stop. Just outside of the halo of light offered by the streetlamps, a heavily cloaked figure dangled something just out of view. She sniffed again. Bingo. She nodded. Of course this had shady written all over it, but he smelled so sweet and he had called her "dove" so just how bad could he be? "Well c'mon then, come an' get it would ya? We got more righ' back this way."

"I... should let Cael know where I'm going..." She said softly. Despite that, her feet still carried her gracefully toward the shade. Curiosity, meet Vael the cat.

"We already tol' 'im. S'no worries, dove." There it was again. Her shoulders dropped a little and she gave the dark veiled being a cheery nod.

"Very well. Let us go, yes?" As soon as she stepped from the light to the dark, the black clad man was ushering her down a different side street, taking her through alleys and down seldom traveled access walkways, all the while talking about just what he had in store for her. He was charming save for the less than refined way in which he spoke, and the gentle hand to the small of her back didn't set off too many alarms in her head. Not with the veritable mountain of goodies awaiting her at least. They traveled through a narrow doorway hinged by an old, creaky metal door and into what seemed to be an empty building. It was a little dusty, likely an old shop long since out of use, but otherwise it didn't seem that ominous or foreboding. Except her escort was slowing and her Vael-senses were tingling. Something wasn't quite right. As they came to a stop and she heard the quiet tink of metal on metal, she realized her folly.

She stood within a wide circle that had just been closed with a drag of iron on concrete, sealing the little fae in and doing a terrific job of keeping her away from the circle's edges.Spinning a circle of her own, her mismatched eyes found the man in black and fixed him with a wide eyed stare.

"Ye best let me go..." She said quietly but firmly, one hand resting on the hilt of her ironwood sword. It wouldn't do her much good at this distance but it was the closest thing she had to protection with Cael so far away.

"Yea'? Or what. Ye gonna cut me witcher toothpick there?" The man laughed. The sound was joined by an echo of laughter that seemed to split and multiply, filling her ears with the derisively taunting sound. Just barely ticking her eyes from side to side, she realized that it wasn't just the two of them. Just in her view, there were at least three outside of the circle and though she couldn't extend her Will beyond the iron edge of the circle, she would almost count on there being more behind her.

"Or ye won't like what's going to happen." Her voice trembled as did the sword when she drew it, pointing it at the man who had brought her there. Their laughter bloomed anew and she swallowed hard. For all of the toughness implied by her persona, she was most certainly not ready for a fight like this. And so? She screamed. Long and loud in a pitch befitting the shattering of glass. "CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAELLLLL LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"

"Oi! Shut 'er up! Hurry, shut 'er up!" One of the voices called. She felt the burn of cold forged iron before it touched her, the metal manacle looped around her non-dominant wrist and clicked shut. Vael squealed and swung blindly at her captor. The ironwood sword's pommel cracked the man in the side of the head and he stumbled aside. It also loosened her hold on the blade and it was easily knocked out of her grasp by the next set of hands that sought to still her squirming. The connected manacle to the first was latched around her other wrist, binding them together.

"CAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLL!" She screamed again through a choked sob just in time for a hand to clamp down on her mouth. He was wearing rings, at least two of which had some amount of iron in them. Her entire body fought against the hold and the hissing burn working its way into her soft flesh. For all of her twisting and flailing, it took three sets of rough hands to hold her still long enough for them to close a matching set of cuffs around her ankles. No matter the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the iron was like poison, fast acting in its ability to slow her down until she was a sluggish mess. Still she fought with everything she had.

"Drain 'er dry an' ditch 'er b'fore they know she's gone. This'ne'll sell more'an well 'nough ta make up fer the hassle." It was the last thing she heard before everything began to fade in front of her very eyes.

--cont--

[Vaeluthil Whitevale]

"Make it quick, lad." With gruff words but the makings of a mild smile, the druid slapped the boy lightly on his back to send him on the way, nimble feet carrying the messenger away. The smile widened and then failed when he turned around to find his little charge so suddenly absent. It had only been but a few moments...

"Vael?" he called after her. "Vaeluthil?" His hooded head swung from side to side, glancing in either direction and then ahead. He advanced and then paused again. "Little dove?"

Nothing.

This wasn't like her.

And that was when Cael started to worry. The Master would be very upset if anything happened. No. No. It didn't matter what the Master wanted. Cael himself was beyond upset. For those chill moments in the night air, he was all but distraught. He thought of her lost, alone, and out there somewhere calling his name. With a low rumbled growl, he dropped to a knee on the ground and rolled up a loose wool sleeve, the wide spread of gnarled fingers pressed to the frigid cobblestone. The eldritch words were thick and harsh on his tongue, drawing power from the earth below the man-worked stone and into the very veins of him. Nature's power flowed through him and then out, green-grey mist rising in a slowly upturned palm and blown into the night air with a harsh exhale. It dissipated but the effect was nearly instantaneous, powerful magic racing through the streets as fast as a blinking eye.

CAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLL! The sound of his name from familiar lips made every muscle in his broad body seize up. The clairaudience filtering in more of the sound as he concentrated on the little faerie's face in his thoughts. Voices. Roughspun and ill intentioned. She screamed. The clairvoyance brought the picture across his field of vision a dozen heartbeats later, assailing him with a ghostly picture of her plight in three dimensions. CAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEELLLLL!

Something was snapped tight on her wrists. The pain on her pretty little face was unmistakeable.

When he looked up from the cobblestones finally, Cael the Bravest's eyes burned like emerald fire.

Harsh words were spat into the night air, more gutteral than the last and the last syllable was spat like a curse from his tongue, the phantom cry of a bird of prey hot on its heels. When the druid rose and took the first step, it was with a terrifying alacrity. Each stride after was faster, longer. Every sound she made, their harsh laughter, it was a guiding beacon that dragged in through narrow alleys and over stacked dumpsters, a route more direct than the circuitous one that had stolen his beautiful little redhead away from him. Steam leaked from his flared nostrils and curled lips like a prelude to dragonfire, corded muscles growing with each passing moment. Ambient nature magic, long unused and dormant beneath the manmade streets, was drawn in through every crack and rent on the stone along his path, feeding his speed and filling a reserve within him that was so often in a perpetual state of half emptiness from the efforts it took to shield his ward's presence from prying magical eyes. He filled himself up until he thought his heart might burst from his chest and kill him. But he didn't have long to wait. Before he knew it, the brazen protection of a wall was all the separated him from Vaeluthil. He could hear her piteous moans as if nothing stood between them.

"VAEL!" He roared her name with the fury of a thousand lions.

The wall exploded inwards with a shower of flying bricks.

The ground beneath the druid heaved, brick and cobblestone and errant bits of pavements popped loose and was tossed upwards like the little kernels of corn that bounced in the man-machine to make fluffy treats. Vael always liked watching them cook. From beneath them, the long denied earth spat mottled brown vines, winter withered but suddenly alive and vibrant with need. They caught the flying debris in a quick, meticulous manner, careless for who else they hit save for the staunch denial of the pretty faerie, who went untouched by the flying stone. Men screamed in surprise and tried to scatter. Cael didn't allow it, his skin thickening and darkening to a ruddy grey-brown like weathered bark. Every knuckle grew jagged thorns and tore flesh asunder where he struck them, striking men to the earth like a hammer or batting them aside like ragdolls. They were just men.

And they had hurt his faerie.

"No one touches the faerie," he told no one and everyone with a feral snarl, picking his way towards the fallen redhead.

They came for him, as much out of anger as the sudden panic that set in when the overwhelming happened. Men bled, but then so did Cael. An axe blade bit deep into his hardened flesh when a flanking attacker rushed at his back, sinking past the mystical armor and laying into flesh. Red-brown blood created a dark, wet blossom against his shirt. A fresh snarl ripped from curled lips and a vicious backhand drive razor sharp thorns through the attacking man's face, sending him spinning away.

Before anyone knew it, the circle of iron had been broken with the hard kick of a boot that sent a portion of it skittering away with the screech of torn metal. Vael's bonds came next, think fingers digging into the edges of the metal and breaking the hinges with an audible snap before letting them fall to the floor. His gaze was heavy on her, ablaze with an unquenchable green fire. The room was littered with the injured, dead, or dying.

The low moan that left her mouth was the only sound she could form for him as he ripped free the iron bonds from around her wrists and ankles. The metal had branded deep burns into her delicate skin, turning it a deep red so dark that it almost looked black in the abandoned building's lacking light. Just barely she had watched him tear the room apart with a savage fury that seemed hardly possible from the sleepy druid. Maybe, she convinced herself, the iron was making her hallucinate. It was certainly a possibility. As Cael loomed over her, she reached a heavy feeling hand up to set her fingers against his cheek. It was a fond sort of caress, soft and gentle despite the brutality shown by the man only moments before.

"Mine Bravest Cael. You are so very beautiful right now." She mumbled, her eyelids heavy over mismatched eyes. Her fingers dropped away, gravity winning out and dragging her digits through his scruff, down along his jaw to barely glance off his chest before falling back to meet her frame. Vael hummed a soft noise, a melodic note that wasn't quite in tune. "You are also hurt..."

It wasn't the sort of sound he was used to from the lovely little redhead. Instead, it only roused his anger further, but the feral rage was forced aside and he was reaching for her. Armored skin softened with the fading of the magic, its rough texture fading to the less firm solidity of heavy muscle. His knees struck the warehouse floor heavily, thick arms encircling her body and drawing her in, the strong curve of his jaw tipped into the pliable warmth of her hand and the fire his eyes fading as he closed them. "You're hurt," he said quietly, as if she had never pointed out his own injuries, all superficial save for the axe wound to his side. "I can fix you..."

Her groaning subsided into a low whimper, her thin frame trembling in his grasp. It had been quite some time since she last felt such a harsh bite from cold iron and it was stirring up no small amount of thoughts best kept locked up in the darker parts of her mind. He was comfort and strength, anchoring her to the here and now no matter how much it hurt. As he held her close, she weakly dragged her fingers over his chest and choked out a quiet sob of a laugh, shaking her head gently. "I have had much, much worse. You are losing your red."

She paused a moment, taking a deep breath. Her hand pulled away from him and she pointed through him to his seven o'clock.

"And that one is waking." It wasn't as though she often did such things outside of Seaside's walls but with her exhale, a thick root split through a cracked slab of cement and seized the stirring Vael-napper by the throat, pulling him back to the ground and pinning him there until he stopped moving. Oh. The exertion to do so so succinctly even on a good day would have been an expenditure but as she was, it left her winded and she curled in against him. A thinning of her lips saw them redden with a smear of the very vitae the men had been seeking and a hard shudder racked her little body. "I will be okay. I will."

"I've had much worse too." He cradled her in his arms, ignoring the pulsing pain of his gaping wound and the steady spill of his life's blood down over a hip. The druid didn't bother to look when the little faerie pointed. He knew the man was there and had every intention of dealing with him once his little charge was seen to and they were on their way. Vaeluthil didn't give him the chance, though, and earned herself the small moue that was almost a smile when he was denied further vengeance.

"Hush, little dove," he said finally, blonde brows furrowed for the sudden sight of her blood and the shake of her delicate frame. "I'll fix everythin'." For the third time that night he called upon the earth and summoned eldritch power, until a comforting cool ran over the surface of the faerie's skin and then seeped in through every pore. With the passage of fleeting moments, he hurts slowly healed.

Vael didn't fight him. She couldn't have if she wanted to. Her arms hurt, her legs hurt, her very being hurt but that was all on the way out as the comforting wave crept over her. Though cool, it was like being tucked in at night, like the soothing sort of safety that made it easy to drift off to sleep. Her eyes wanted to close but she didn't quite let them. Maybe eighty percent of the way, until the dark room was a bare crack between lids. Petite fingers curled against the front of his cloak, grasping for something solid as she relaxed against him. The drifting was winning out as her pain subsided and her flesh began the slow process of repairing itself under the influence of his Will. Her lips parted to issue a quiet mumble before curling into a fond smile.

"Mine Cael. So very brave."

This time when the black came, she knew it was okay. She had Cael and Cael could fix everything.