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snarpA short chapter. Previous chapters under the tag at DW or LJ.
(DO NOT REVEAL ITS SECRET FANFIC ROOTS IF YOU KNOW THEM.)
- Chapter 4 -
The man in the black mask was late. He'd never been late much until recently - it was a new thing for him. But just like every single one of the old things, it frightened him.
Outside of the haunted house he skidded to a stop and ripped off his gloves to count his fingers, having gotten the idea that he might have lost one. Then he pulled them back on, and glanced fretfully around to make sure nothing had seen his bare hands. A red-eyed ghost blinked sleepily at him from the window, and across the street, on a dead gaslamp, a Fire Hat sat and burned incuriously down at him. In a rush of fear about his toes, he sat down on the cobbles to work his boots off.
A fisherwoman passing by glanced at his feathery mask without interest. There were stranger-looking things than him by the docks every day.
Anywhere else in the city he would have been in trouble. *I work so *hard*,* he thought miserably. *What am I getting wrong? I'm so much *smarter* than they are.* Surely he ought to be smart enough to figure out how to look human. His name was Wrile, and he was an Old Fairy.
He was very, very old. He was so old that he no longer remembered how old he was, or where he had been born, or why he was always afraid. He was so old that he no longer even remembered how he had come to be the last one of his kind. He assumed it had something to do with the part about being afraid.
Sometimes Wrile wasn't sure he recalled what his people had looked like. He did not, after all, really know what *he* looked like.
*Where did you all go?* he asked his ten pink toes, and pulled his boots back on in quick, unhappy motions. *Did you all become like me, always hiding, always thinking you're alone? If I were to step into the light, and say, "I am still here," would you see me? Would you come find me?*
They wouldn't come. He'd tried it once, and something else had come instead. That was why he'd come here tonight to pay some silly human to do a thing he couldn't.
He had a watch, a thing he had received as a gift from a human, and treasured and mistrusted. It said it was a bit before midnight; he had planned to meet the thief at ten. Possibly she had left. Possibly she was still inside. He didn't want to go inside a human house, even one that belonged to ghosts now.
His shadow tugged on the skirts of his coat and pointed insistently at the ghosts' house. "Ohhh," he wailed aloud. "Why does everything have to be so *hard*?" And unable to muster the energy for the pointless human task of opening the door, he dove into the crack under it.
Two little boys who'd rounded the corner at the end of street stared at the glove he'd left behind.
-
The way to tell whether a Roaring Girl was wild or tame was simple. Wild Girls were nocturnal, so any Girl who yawned at night was tame.
This tame Girl was lounging on a dusty card table, glumly brushing her hair, occasionally looking down at her human and making faces, a new one each time. The human girl was sprawled dozing on the grimy floor, a flashlight switched on in her hand. Wrile grimaced fastidiously where he hid in the shadow of a shredded bit of bamboo blind.
He'd told her to come alone. He felt a little distaste for what he was about to do, but he couldn't let the creature jump him. Extending a single claw, he leapt out and, before the Roaring Girl had time to do more than look annoyed, neatly severed her soft head.
"Hey!" she complained, her head bouncing to the floor. "Pays! You suck! He *killed* me -"
Wrile picked up her head and hastily stuffed a bag into her mouth; he hadn't thought she'd be able to keep talking. Roaring Girls always surprised you. He retreated quickly up into a corner of the ceiling, unable to carry her head anywhere safer. Now that he'd had to fight, his careful human disguise was useless.
The human girl was on her feet now. He hadn't been fast enough - she was looking right at the place where he was. She asked him, "Who're you?"
Wrile said, sounding as cool as he could, "I am the one who asked you to come here. I have neutralized your fairy."
She moved over to the table and poked the Roaring Girl's body, gone flat on the tabletop. "She's not mine. And I guess you can say "neutralized," yeah. You gonna give her head back?"
"When we have concluded our business," Wrile said importantly. Did that sound spooky enough? Too spooky? Was she going to take him seriously? *Ohhh, verbal communication is so *complicated*.*
"Yeah? What's our business? That letter you slipped in my pocket on Gentian last week was sorta vague."
He was confused by that for a second, then saw that she was testing him. "It was three days ago on Tal For Street, in fact. And I think my letter was fairly specific. Shall I recite it for you?"
She said, "No, 's okay. Come down here, though. I need to see you're the same guy."
He asked reasonably, "I am a person who is going to pay you. Does it matter?"
"Maybe! I dunno. Come down."
She was searching the shadows for him with narrow eyes. He saw for the first time, surprised, that they were different colors. The right one was ordinary dark brown, but the left was a paler shade, nearly yellow. It made the human girl look less disturbing to him - almost like another fairy. And she wanted her Roaring Girl's head back.
So he dropped to the ground. He had covered every inch of himself he could with human clothes, anyway, so there wasn't much for her to see.
The girl looked at him, and at the Roaring Girl's head glaring at her in his hand, and shrugged. "I guess you look like the same guy. Same mask and everything. So, what kind of story you buying about yourself?"
He didn't understand what that meant. He began, "It is my understand that you have some skill at entering places undetected."
She smirked. "Some."
He said carefully, "It is, specifically, my understanding that you can turn invisible?"
"Some."
"...*can* you?"
"Yep."
She didn't seem to feel the need to demonstrate. Well, he'd already done his research - he didn't need to see it. He said, "As I described in my letter, I need access to the basement floors of the swordsmith Ban Min's workshop several blocks west of here, preferably during the hours just after dawn. If you can get it for me, you will receive a Blaspheming Mantis, and six jewels to be used for his eyes." He felt sick saying it, but at least the Mantis was a volunteer.
"Can and have, but maybe I don't want a bug."
"- Well, what do you want?"
She scratched her head. "Well, see. How about you answer me some questions? Because - kinda hard to believe, I know - but I don't think I ever *met* an Old Fairy before."
"How did you know?!" he demanded, clutching his throat with his free hand. Then he looked down at it in horror. He'd lost his glove someplace, and the hand had reverted to its usual state - four-fingered, coated with fine gray fur.
She said, offended, "Hey, now, am I Pasky Bay's sister, or am I not?"
"- whose sister, now?"
"...you know, never mind. Anyway, you're not any of the two-hundred known fairies. I know that much."
Wrile felt his human form quaver, and he grabbed its edges to hold it in place. Did she really know anything? Or was she just trying to frighten him into giving something away? It was working, he realized miserably.
*What kind of an Old Fairy is frightened of a human?* The old taunt rang in his ears, and, oddly, it comforted him. *This kind, apparently,* he thought rebelliously. *But at least I don't *lie* about it.*
He asked suspiciously, "What sort of questions are they?"
"Guess you'll find out!" she said. "But there's one you gotta answer right now. How you think I'm going to get you in? I mean, I've gotten fairies into places before, but it's usually a Thin Man or a Paper Cat - like, something that can make itself fit in my pocket."
He said, trying to sound properly mysterious, "I will give you a certain object. You need not concern yourself with the rest." He wondered if he ought to be offended by the suggestion that a Thin Man was better-qualified for something than an Old Fairy.
"Yeah, I better not," she said firmly. "When you want to do this?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning?" She looked thoughtful, to the extent that she could. "You mean, in seven hours? Yeah, I'll take the jewels, too, then. Not the Mantis."
"Very well." One less thing to feel horrible about. "Shall I return here to meet you when the time approaches?"
"Yeah, come back at six-thirty." She was frowning, absorbed in her small thiefish thoughts, he assumed. She waved a hand at him, impatiently, a dismissal, which raised his hackles. "I'll be ready. - Gimme May Leen's head, though." He looked down at the Roaring Girl's head, and she knitted her feather brows back at him. He tossed the head to the human, who caught it. He'd have to make it clear that she wasn't coming along; Roaring Girls were vengeful creatures.
"Until then," he said, and slipped out under the door again, going over every possible disaster again for the hundredth time. He had to get it right this time - he was out of chances. He couldn't let anything go wrong.
-
Pays looked meditatively at the door the Old Fairy had slipped out of, then down at May Leen's grumpy face.
May Leen said, "You're going to do something *mean* to him, right? *Right?*"
"Yeah," said Pays. "I got some ideas."
Let Bay look down on her when she'd made an Old Fairy form a contract with her.
(DO NOT REVEAL ITS SECRET FANFIC ROOTS IF YOU KNOW THEM.)
- Chapter 4 -
The man in the black mask was late. He'd never been late much until recently - it was a new thing for him. But just like every single one of the old things, it frightened him.
Outside of the haunted house he skidded to a stop and ripped off his gloves to count his fingers, having gotten the idea that he might have lost one. Then he pulled them back on, and glanced fretfully around to make sure nothing had seen his bare hands. A red-eyed ghost blinked sleepily at him from the window, and across the street, on a dead gaslamp, a Fire Hat sat and burned incuriously down at him. In a rush of fear about his toes, he sat down on the cobbles to work his boots off.
A fisherwoman passing by glanced at his feathery mask without interest. There were stranger-looking things than him by the docks every day.
Anywhere else in the city he would have been in trouble. *I work so *hard*,* he thought miserably. *What am I getting wrong? I'm so much *smarter* than they are.* Surely he ought to be smart enough to figure out how to look human. His name was Wrile, and he was an Old Fairy.
He was very, very old. He was so old that he no longer remembered how old he was, or where he had been born, or why he was always afraid. He was so old that he no longer even remembered how he had come to be the last one of his kind. He assumed it had something to do with the part about being afraid.
Sometimes Wrile wasn't sure he recalled what his people had looked like. He did not, after all, really know what *he* looked like.
*Where did you all go?* he asked his ten pink toes, and pulled his boots back on in quick, unhappy motions. *Did you all become like me, always hiding, always thinking you're alone? If I were to step into the light, and say, "I am still here," would you see me? Would you come find me?*
They wouldn't come. He'd tried it once, and something else had come instead. That was why he'd come here tonight to pay some silly human to do a thing he couldn't.
He had a watch, a thing he had received as a gift from a human, and treasured and mistrusted. It said it was a bit before midnight; he had planned to meet the thief at ten. Possibly she had left. Possibly she was still inside. He didn't want to go inside a human house, even one that belonged to ghosts now.
His shadow tugged on the skirts of his coat and pointed insistently at the ghosts' house. "Ohhh," he wailed aloud. "Why does everything have to be so *hard*?" And unable to muster the energy for the pointless human task of opening the door, he dove into the crack under it.
Two little boys who'd rounded the corner at the end of street stared at the glove he'd left behind.
-
The way to tell whether a Roaring Girl was wild or tame was simple. Wild Girls were nocturnal, so any Girl who yawned at night was tame.
This tame Girl was lounging on a dusty card table, glumly brushing her hair, occasionally looking down at her human and making faces, a new one each time. The human girl was sprawled dozing on the grimy floor, a flashlight switched on in her hand. Wrile grimaced fastidiously where he hid in the shadow of a shredded bit of bamboo blind.
He'd told her to come alone. He felt a little distaste for what he was about to do, but he couldn't let the creature jump him. Extending a single claw, he leapt out and, before the Roaring Girl had time to do more than look annoyed, neatly severed her soft head.
"Hey!" she complained, her head bouncing to the floor. "Pays! You suck! He *killed* me -"
Wrile picked up her head and hastily stuffed a bag into her mouth; he hadn't thought she'd be able to keep talking. Roaring Girls always surprised you. He retreated quickly up into a corner of the ceiling, unable to carry her head anywhere safer. Now that he'd had to fight, his careful human disguise was useless.
The human girl was on her feet now. He hadn't been fast enough - she was looking right at the place where he was. She asked him, "Who're you?"
Wrile said, sounding as cool as he could, "I am the one who asked you to come here. I have neutralized your fairy."
She moved over to the table and poked the Roaring Girl's body, gone flat on the tabletop. "She's not mine. And I guess you can say "neutralized," yeah. You gonna give her head back?"
"When we have concluded our business," Wrile said importantly. Did that sound spooky enough? Too spooky? Was she going to take him seriously? *Ohhh, verbal communication is so *complicated*.*
"Yeah? What's our business? That letter you slipped in my pocket on Gentian last week was sorta vague."
He was confused by that for a second, then saw that she was testing him. "It was three days ago on Tal For Street, in fact. And I think my letter was fairly specific. Shall I recite it for you?"
She said, "No, 's okay. Come down here, though. I need to see you're the same guy."
He asked reasonably, "I am a person who is going to pay you. Does it matter?"
"Maybe! I dunno. Come down."
She was searching the shadows for him with narrow eyes. He saw for the first time, surprised, that they were different colors. The right one was ordinary dark brown, but the left was a paler shade, nearly yellow. It made the human girl look less disturbing to him - almost like another fairy. And she wanted her Roaring Girl's head back.
So he dropped to the ground. He had covered every inch of himself he could with human clothes, anyway, so there wasn't much for her to see.
The girl looked at him, and at the Roaring Girl's head glaring at her in his hand, and shrugged. "I guess you look like the same guy. Same mask and everything. So, what kind of story you buying about yourself?"
He didn't understand what that meant. He began, "It is my understand that you have some skill at entering places undetected."
She smirked. "Some."
He said carefully, "It is, specifically, my understanding that you can turn invisible?"
"Some."
"...*can* you?"
"Yep."
She didn't seem to feel the need to demonstrate. Well, he'd already done his research - he didn't need to see it. He said, "As I described in my letter, I need access to the basement floors of the swordsmith Ban Min's workshop several blocks west of here, preferably during the hours just after dawn. If you can get it for me, you will receive a Blaspheming Mantis, and six jewels to be used for his eyes." He felt sick saying it, but at least the Mantis was a volunteer.
"Can and have, but maybe I don't want a bug."
"- Well, what do you want?"
She scratched her head. "Well, see. How about you answer me some questions? Because - kinda hard to believe, I know - but I don't think I ever *met* an Old Fairy before."
"How did you know?!" he demanded, clutching his throat with his free hand. Then he looked down at it in horror. He'd lost his glove someplace, and the hand had reverted to its usual state - four-fingered, coated with fine gray fur.
She said, offended, "Hey, now, am I Pasky Bay's sister, or am I not?"
"- whose sister, now?"
"...you know, never mind. Anyway, you're not any of the two-hundred known fairies. I know that much."
Wrile felt his human form quaver, and he grabbed its edges to hold it in place. Did she really know anything? Or was she just trying to frighten him into giving something away? It was working, he realized miserably.
*What kind of an Old Fairy is frightened of a human?* The old taunt rang in his ears, and, oddly, it comforted him. *This kind, apparently,* he thought rebelliously. *But at least I don't *lie* about it.*
He asked suspiciously, "What sort of questions are they?"
"Guess you'll find out!" she said. "But there's one you gotta answer right now. How you think I'm going to get you in? I mean, I've gotten fairies into places before, but it's usually a Thin Man or a Paper Cat - like, something that can make itself fit in my pocket."
He said, trying to sound properly mysterious, "I will give you a certain object. You need not concern yourself with the rest." He wondered if he ought to be offended by the suggestion that a Thin Man was better-qualified for something than an Old Fairy.
"Yeah, I better not," she said firmly. "When you want to do this?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning?" She looked thoughtful, to the extent that she could. "You mean, in seven hours? Yeah, I'll take the jewels, too, then. Not the Mantis."
"Very well." One less thing to feel horrible about. "Shall I return here to meet you when the time approaches?"
"Yeah, come back at six-thirty." She was frowning, absorbed in her small thiefish thoughts, he assumed. She waved a hand at him, impatiently, a dismissal, which raised his hackles. "I'll be ready. - Gimme May Leen's head, though." He looked down at the Roaring Girl's head, and she knitted her feather brows back at him. He tossed the head to the human, who caught it. He'd have to make it clear that she wasn't coming along; Roaring Girls were vengeful creatures.
"Until then," he said, and slipped out under the door again, going over every possible disaster again for the hundredth time. He had to get it right this time - he was out of chances. He couldn't let anything go wrong.
-
Pays looked meditatively at the door the Old Fairy had slipped out of, then down at May Leen's grumpy face.
May Leen said, "You're going to do something *mean* to him, right? *Right?*"
"Yeah," said Pays. "I got some ideas."
Let Bay look down on her when she'd made an Old Fairy form a contract with her.
