This is for Zaida and myself. If you like what you read, send me a PM, and maybe we can work something out.
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Shane watched as the boy backed up. "[#800080 Did I say or do something Wrong Skye? If I did I didn't mean to.]" He said as he stayed put where he was left standing. He ran his right hand through his hair showing another scar. "[#800080 I guess it's my turn to tell about my self huh.]" He said as he took a small step to the boy.
His sister? How odd... This was showing just how little he truly knew about Courts outside of his own. Perhaps his grandfather was onto something with having him perform in this seemingly pointless affair. The faint blush on Shane's cheeks matched his hair, and was, if Skye did say so himself, somewhat adorable. However, when Shane asked him to share about himself, Skye hesitated, the sad look returning to his crystalline, pale eyes.
“I... I am a Child of Summer. My grandfather and his guard have told me that when I was young, I was kidnapped by mercenaries from the Fall Court, stolen away just after I had bloomed. It... It's how my wing was hurt...” Skye trailed off, realizing he was probably sharing far too much of himself. This was not the kind of information that you shared with someone you've just met. And this was a Child of Fall. His words must sound like accusations...
Suddenly embarrassed, Skye pulled his arms back and stepped away, gently hugging himself as he backed away from Shane. He should leave. Excuse himself. Find some reason to step away, to run away from this awful tension. He peaked over the edge of the balcony. The ground wasn't too far, he could probably glide the whole way down. He would receive such a scolding from his grandfather... Was it worth it? He swallowed, continuing to step back until he was pressed against the railing, where he could make a quick escape if he needed to. He looked down at the ground, sadness and pain ever present.
Shane blushed when he was close to the other boy. "[#800080 That little girl is my little sister..] He said as he looked at the boy. [#800080 So Skye tell me a little about you, and then I'll share some about my self.]" He said as he turned and swayed with the music. Shane didn't mind how close they where but he didn't allow his skin to touch the boys fabric. It was normal for males to dance and become great friends with other males, and in some cases there where children born with male parent.
Skye kept his soft smile as he held a hand out across his body, gesturing for Shane to lead the way to where he was the most comfortable. For a Moon Sylvan, his wings were quite vibrant. Not unpleasant, just odd. Perhaps he had a parent from another Court. It wasn't uncommon. But the effects of divided blood lines didn't often show themselves in real life. Perhaps they two weren't so different....
It was nice to have his wings out. The gently breeze coming in from the windows and swirling around the dancers felts good, tenderly fluttering his wings. The live air felt amazing, and Skye didn't care one bit if his grandfather decided to scold him later about it. He flexed his wings as they made their way, raising them to to nearly their full height. Their stark white caught the light in the room, shimmering and dazzling. There were murmurs about his wings wherever he passed, mostly in pity about how he might never fly again. Skye pointedly ignored them, pressing on as he lowered his wings again, until the sight of Shane with the young Wind Sylvan ran forward. She must have bloomed early to be so young. Or maybe... maybe she was cut away from her flower as such a small thing. That would have been so dangerous for her...
But she was so bright and happy. The Tribes must be treating her well. Skye watched as she skipped away, happy to be returned to later, and he chuckled. His grandfather always told Skye that he was far too softhearted to be his grandson. But Skye rarely let the old man's words hurt him anymore. Reaching the balcony a step before Shane, Skye turned and reached for Shane's hand, pulling him in close, gently, with a soft enough grasp that Shane could pull away from if necessary. Ready to lead, Skye, waited for the music to begin.
"[#800080 I would love to dance, but how about we take it on the balcony? I don't have to hid much out there.]" He said he smiled and took his own cloak off. His mother smiled and patted his hands and Shane's wings fluttered as if their wings where talking to each other. He noticed that there was a peace if the boy's wing missing but he didn't say anything.
Shane's wings where like a brightly colored butterfly's and they always drew in a lot of attention. Shane kept his eyes down to the floor when he walked, his mother would surly scold him for that later but he didn't like it when people where staring at him. His wings opened and closed and he wished that they would just stay still.
Shane put his hand over the cut on his chest and took in a deep breath trying to get the burning to go away. Every one bowed when he walked past the and he simply bowed back with a light smile. "Hello Shane." A little girl about five said as she ran up to him and grabbed his hand. "[#800080 Hello Miss Ameria how are you?]" He asked her as he went to his knees so they where on the same level.
"Shane come dance with me please." The little girl said as she pulled on his arm. "[#800080 I will right after I dance with this gentleman.]" He said as he patted her head and stood up. The little girl nodded and hugged him. She smiled and skipped off to go play with her friends. He tinny little ladybug wings fluttering behind her.
Skye listened intently as the woman spoke, bobbing his head in understanding. The scar on the Sylvan boy's chest looked red, raw almost. It would make sense that his scar would hurt beneath the fabric. It had taken many, many years for Skye's wounds to be comfortable underneath clothing. For many years, he had worn shirts and vests that were almost entirely backless, cinching around the waist well under the scar on his back. Idly, the scar began to hurt, and Skye began to rub at it again, coughing gently to try and make the pain subside. It didn't help much. He stood up straight again, as he had been taught, his wings twitching uncomfortable beneath the cloak. It was far too warm in this building now. And if he were to ask someone to dance, it would be necessary to remove it.
Without a word, he stepped passed the pair, swinging his cape from around his shoulder in one fluid motion and handing it off to a waiting Brownie. The small creature nodded and rushed off to go and hang it up. His wings fluttered gently, white monarch butterfly wings bordered in a deep black, the hind-wing half-missing on the right-hand side, terribly cut away. It was obvious that Skye would never truly fly, and it was an old wound. Perhaps he had never truly flown.
Skye twirled back around to face Ersa and Shane, holding out a hand. He eyed the two of them, wondering which would accept his invitation. “It would be my pleasure to escort you to dance, if you wished it.”
His wings fluttered again invitingly. A soft smile spread across his lips. He should try and enjoy the ball, even if he were only here for his grandfather. He took a deep breath, the quiet sadness still hiding in his eyes.
Shane looked at his mother and then at the boy who was in front of him. He bowed back and was going to speak but his mother did just before he could. "[#ff00ff My name is Ersa of DrangonWood and this is my son Shane. Please forgive him for not wearing the right attire sometimes the cloth irritates his skin.]" She said as she stayed in her seat. Shane smiled at the biy as he ran his hand through his hair showing his scar more. He knew that Ersa wasn't his real mother, but she's been there since day one.
Skye moved through the Hall with ease, softly greeting each of the guests with formal grace, easily calling each by name and title. These had been drilled into him each day, at the behest of his tutors, with assurance that they would help in the coming years as a potential ambassador. But who knew if that were ever going to happen. After all, his grandfather thought him a disgrace, and, well, who knew which of his children had been the one to conceive him. He remembered traveling at one point, shortly after his blooming. But he had been assured by his family and the soldiers who had carried him that he had been saved from another Court who had stolen his Flower away. He had never heard of another case like that, but that's not to say it couldn't happen.
Again, the Sylvan from before snagged his attention in his circuit around the room, this time standing next to a woman of similar features. Wrong hair and eye color, but decidedly familial. His mother, he supposed. She had her hand on his face, gently caressing it, talking softly with a gentle smile. It took Skye a moment to recognize her as a member of the family that ruled the First Seat of the Autumnal Council. That meant that she, and subsequently the shirtless Sylvan, resided within the Autumnal Hall, the bastion of the Fall Court. They were someone that he should probably greet.... Slowly, he stepped through the crowd towards the pair.
“Good evening,” he said, gracefully bowing in greeting. “I am Skye Dravenwood, Fourth Son of the Dravenwood Family, Prince of Castle Solstice. It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of the First Family of Autumn.”
Shane reached his mother and kissed her forehead. "[#ff00ff Hello mother.]" He said as he looked at her with a soft worm smile. "[#800080 It's hurting again isn't it?]" She asked him as she touched the side of his face with her hand. She was meaning the scar on his chest. About this time every night it started hurting. Some times more than others. "[#ff00ff Yes mother.]" He said as he leaned into her hand. Normally someone would be told to put a shirt on,but not Shane. Given the circumstances he couldn't really wear one.
Skye would close his eyes again, but he would only see that first memory again. Often times, it simply felt like a dream, except for the scar plainly present on his back. It still ached from time to time, when the weather changed. Idly, he rubbed his hand across the midline of his back, feeling the slight raise of the scar underneath his fine clothing. The black and white edge of one of his wings twitched out from underneath his cloak, and Skye heard murmuring from the guests around him. Self-consciously, he pulled the garment tighter around him, tucking his wings in more, almost painfully.
Glancing up, he saw the disapproving look of his grandfather, as well as the beckoning gesture. With a weary sigh, Skye pushed himself up off of the pillar and began the short walk to a hushed reprimand. He walked slowly, both to keep from drawing attention to himself and to lengthen the time it took him to reach his grandfather. What could he possibly have to admonish him about this time? Skye had been standing off to the side, not interacting with anyone who could possibly have a large amount of power within their realms. He wasn't doing anything to call attention to the “Dark Horse” of the Dravenwood line.
“Why are you not dancing?” his grandfather asked as Skye reached him.”You are an eligible bachelor of the Dravenwood line, disappointment that you are. You should be dancing and socializing, looking for someone who would want to spend their time with a letdown such as you.”
Skye kept his mouth shut, merely nodding his begrudging assent to his grandfather's wishes. He could never win with the King, and it was easier to just... go with it. He turned and began to walk to the dance floor, but his grandfather spoke again.
“You know what else I'm going to say, yes? Do not embarrass the family.”
“Of course, Grandfather. As you wish.” Again, Skye walked unhappily through the hall, looking for somewhere he could hide from his grandfather's harsh glare. From the corner of his eye, he happened to see a red-headed Sylvan, from the Fall Court, if Skye remembered correctly. He was... shirtless? That wasn't exactly standard attire for a Season's Ball. Skye couldn't contain the chuckle as he continued forward. As he walked, he went over the mental list in his head that had been drilled into him since he could remember, each of the Dukes and Duchesses, Barons and Baronesses, Council Members, Senate Members, even the members of the Tribal Conclave. That wasn't something often seen at the Ball. Again, the red headed Sylvan crossed his vision, catching his attention. He... didn't actually know who that was. Odd...
Shane stood hidden on the balcony of the castle. He hated things like this because every one was with their real parents. Yes he had parent's, but the didn't give him life, he hand no real bond with them. He had his cloak over his shirtless frame and his wings twitched wanting to get out.
"Sir you mother is looking for her." One of the butlers said as he bowed to him. Shane just rolled his eyes and turned away. "Tell her I will be in there in a minute." He said with a harsh tone. He was adopted by the family of the first chair, so he was a little spoiled. The butler ran off to do what he was told and Shane sighed pushing him self off the wall and walking inside.
[i “This is a child of Summer.”
He heard the words distantly. Child of Summer? What... what did that mean? His eyes fluttered at the sound of the voice. It was unfamiliar to him, not one of the voices he connected with his parents... There was a sharp pain in his back. Breathing hurt. But he did so anyway, sucking in each breath against the sharp pain. He struggled weakly to get his arms underneath him, but he was too new to this life. He felt something soft wrapped around him, and the he was lifted up off the ground, held gently against someone's chest, the strong arms bringing him a sense of peace and safety. His head leaned back, and his eyes opened slowly. The stars shown above him, glittering softly.
The person holding him, an Elven soldier with burnished golden hair and soft, ebony eyes, looked down at him in surprise. “It's okay, Skye. You're safe now...”]
Skye opened his eyes, his first visual memory fading away as the music and light of the Season's Ball returned. He hated these functions, but as a Prince, he was forced to attend. His face always held some soft, almost sad look to it, his gently, washed-out eyes half-closed against the light. Mainly, he focused on the ground, looking up only when he heard a member of his family nearby. The glittering of the wings of the guests caught his attention briefly. Underneath his cloak, Skye's wings fluttered restlessly. He wanted to let them out, to stretch them, but... his grandfather would not approve.
He stayed apart, leaning up against a pillar, a wallflower in the midst of a room of socialites. How he hated these functions...
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