[ e n o u e m e n t ]

It was quite rare to see someone so readily take one of Brighid’s little handmade welcome gifts. Usually there was some uncertainty, or even some doubt that accepting a gift would be polite. This creature though, seemed not to harness any such prepositions. Almost immediately, the little crown was perfectly situated on a bed of hair. “I make them often. Not an uncommon activity for elves to be practiced in.” Tranquil blue eyes met those that seemed to be trying to understand her. She shrugged noncommittally, momentarily flapping her arms beside her so that the baggy sleeves of her sweater fell over her hands entirely shielding them from view. 

“I like for the new students to feel welcomed. The only thing I can make are such trinkets, and so I figure they can bring smiles to those who step on unfamiliar grounds.”

“No, no they wouldn't. These are the days of labor-less creativity. Out here, people rely on their ability to purchase beautiful things that others make. Or use the eyes of others to determine what is beautiful to themselves. Few take the time to examine what vein of beauty they appreciate because they find it appealing in some way.” Brighid shivered just a bit as the bite of winter’s winds chilled the blood beneath her skin. She was tolerant to the cold, perhaps in large part to her rather forlorn heart, but sometimes she still felt the way humans must when caught in extreme weather. 

The male stooped down in a graceful action to retrieve the twig she’d dropped, while she pushed a stray strand of hair the color of moonlight behind her ear. The sound of bells chiming in the distance echoed throughout the academy’s grounds, alerting all living beings that the hour before sunset would be upon them. Not long from now, Brighid noted, the sky would be orange instead of blue and the temperature would continue to drop. 

“I’m simply an observer. I like to watch people.” Brighid shrugged, as though it explained everything. “Sometimes we don’t need words. At least, words do not always carry all the information. Too many people disregard that fact.” 

‘I’m happy you exist’. It struck Brighid right in the heart almost as jarringly as the cold winder wind had. It was a bit scary. Unfamiliar words and unfamiliar sentiment still threw the young female elf through a labyrinth of confusions. She could not fathom how a stranger would be happy she existed, and yet her family could scarcely be bothered to feel anything remotely similar. How odd. But it was nice all the same. 

Brighid remained rooted where she stood, keeping her eyes locked with the darker ones of the male as he stepped forward. She was not one to shy away from eye contact, after all. It took a while before she could come up with a response, but she got the impression the male was not one to rush good conversation. 

“My name is Brighid. I have a father, and a mother, neither of which care for my existence. I learned to see because none of the servants or the people of the kingdom wished to see me. I was their blight, the one that assailed their eyes and cursed their good moods. I lived in solitude, and from solitude a form of understanding blossomed. Now I am here, just the way life has molded me.” 

It had been forever since the two had seen each other. The last time they met  Xiao decided to secretly sneak away from his royal guards and somehow he managed to discover a place, a community filled with elves. Throughout the week of being there, he didn’t sneak out once, but three times! One day he happen to encounter Brighid. They ended up talking for hours, admiring the slight of lavender plants and many other random details of their life. “Let’s stay friends and keep in contact with each other? I’ll write a letter to you!” Ever since that day the two had kept in contact writing letters to each other back and forth. And the last letter he had sent to Brighid was that he’s heading to Insiltous, mentioning that she should stop by at his tea house and suggested the idea that the two should bake lavender cookies. 

“I had leaves in my hair that time. And twigs.” Brighid protested, recalling how she had emerged from a bush like some sort of Earth Sprite. The hunt for specific berries had kept her hunched over and wading from plant to plant, until her clothes had been slightly discolored from kneeling in the dirt. Regardless, she took the invite to get settled and slid gracefully into a chair. It was a good chair. Not too hard, with a firm cushioned padding that kept her tailbone aligned. “And now...” Brighid shrugged, not even so much as sparing herself a glance. Giving herself a compliment was too difficult, knowing that beauty was a new concept bestowed to her name. 

Sweeping noises filled her delicate ears as Xiao rushed to scoop different herbs into their rightful containers. She would have offered to help, but figured he knew best where everything went. “Maybe. But it is the presence of my mother that he longs for above all else. Nothing else matters.” It was sad, but it was truth. Brighid had dealt with everything alone since young, as her father was never present enough to take care of his child. 

The smell was subtle and calming. Even before she lifted the pretty little cup to her mouth for a sip, she knew it would be good. Good tea just smelled right. “Thank you.” The flavor coated her tongue and sent a pleasant tingle of warmth down her throat. “It’s really great, the best lavender tea I’ve ever had.” 

Brighid nodded at that, knowing just how much Xiao’s parents disliked allowing him to leave too far from the palace. “I’m glad you managed. It will be nice to have you around in person. Our letters have been great, but having the actual person is better.”

It was a question she heard a lot, surprisingly. People seemed to very much enjoy inquiring about romantic pursuits. In all her years of being alive as an adult, though, she only had one man show her any sort of interest in that way. Delicately, she took another sip of her tea. Tranquil blue eyes suddenly seeming lost in thought as she peered down into the faint lilac tint of the tea. 

“No, I don’t. But maybe one day I will. A man has been courting me. You know that the concept of ‘courting’ is very old. But he seemed adamant that we do this the formal way. It’s endearing though. He is not royalty, but he has a sort of lopsided princely charm.” 

brighid-ia​:

Q u e r e n c i a [Styles & Brighid]

So excited was she to bring in her pirate to a world that he so deeply seemed to miss, even though it was not technically real in any way, that the young elf almost entirely missed the way Styles had become hesitant. Lingering for a second longer than she would have liked, and eyeing the surroundings with something that was very still and serious. An unusual trait for the man to don so suddenly. 

Brighid stepped silently beside Styles, looking around at the giant replica she’d produced for him. Did it look a lot like the elven realm where he had ventured? Or was her little slice of the world a different touch of flora and trees? “Yea. I know it’s not the real thing, but, I thought maybe you’d enjoy seeing it.” A bit hesitant herself, she maneuvered her legs gracefully through the folds of her elven dress until she stood a few steps ahead of Styles.

“This is what the uninhabited area around my home looks like. Sort of.” Nothing could be done really, to avoid how Brighid’s skin caught beneath the strong midday sunshine. Without the cover of trees to hide her beneath their strong arms, the suddenness of the light assaulted her eyes and caused them to close in defense. She raised her arm to shield her eyes and tried opening them again, squinting out at Styles. 

“You always seem to harbor a deep longing for elven lands. I just wanted a way to give that to you. Even if it’s just an artificial taste.” Brighid glanced around at her creation, wondering if perhaps it was actually not such an impressive gift. “My abilities aren’t the best, but this place can belong to us.” 

@styles-ia    

This wasn’t real. The pirate knew that it wasn’t real but there was still the feeling of that he should not be there. That he should not exist within a frame like this for a painting as pretty as what Brighid had painted with her mind. “Thank you.” he said as he slowly took a step forward but he was still on his guard as if there would be guards jumping on him- trying to harm him.

“Oh.” He lifted his hat and put it on the girl’s head to shield her pretty eyes from the pretty sun in the pretty illusion the other had made for them. “I wish it was real, yeah.” he said softly “I just-”

The man stepped forward more, walking past Brighid as he looked at the world she had made and tried to take it in as best as he could. He did not know what kind of world this was- well he knew but it had been so long since…

“Me uncle, sort of, he had been bullied into inviting me to an elvenfeast not too long ago- somewhere last year and it was so odd to be with me own kind again. It was so odd. Yet. It wasn’t home, it was in a cold place high up in the mountains. This, this what ya made it is more the kind of world where I grew up- only up in the skies…” he whispered as he touched a tree and wondered if it would disappear under his touch.

Silence overwhelmed them for a bit, and Brighid watched as her pirate treaded almost fearfully ahead into the clearing. He looked oh so cautious, careful like a deer scoping out new feeding grounds. Clearly, he had much on his mind and the young elf didn't feel the need to speak to disturb whatever thoughts were running through his mind. She was content to allow him a moment to really soak it all in without words flying around to distract his attention. 

“Up in the skies?” Brighid repeated his words in the form a question. The elven realm was large, and certainly there were many places in it that she had never set foot. This sounded like one of them. “Was it very beautiful? Is the air more crisp than other places?” 

The question caught Brighid by surprise, and she felt something move around in her gut. It was that little bit of self-loathing that reared its head whenever she thought of home, the one she had to beat down with a baseball bat before it grew to be too large and untamable on a daily basis. Still, she kept her face calm and walked to stand beside Styles. “Sometimes. Some parts.” 

“I miss the land. The flowers. The weather that never changes.” As if trying to communicate why she would like those things, Brighid pointed out a conspicuous purple flower the size of a writing desk that had glowing golden specks embedded in its petals. “They loved me as much as I loved them. Sometimes they were the only living creatures that I could live in peace with.” She sighed then, and dropped her hand. Her gaze became somewhat distant, and she leaned over just enough for her shoulder to touch Styles’ shoulder. 

“The elves there, I don’t miss. Not even a little bit. Maybe not even my father. I love my father, but sometimes I think I miss him least of all.” Brighid smiled sadly, glancing up at Styles before looking back at the purple flower. “It’s comforting in a way to know that he more than likely also does not miss me much, or even at all.”  

The serious demeanor caught the young elf by surprise, but nothing about her facial expression showed it. She remained as calm and unaffected as ever, though now she was gauging the height of the little crown on the man’s head and how it suited him. There had been precious little to work with in the current landscape thanks to winter’s tendency to kill off every living plant and flower possible, but even she had to agree that it had come out very nicely. 

“Talented.” Brighid repeated the word to herself, as though tasting it and trying to determine what sort of flavor it left behind on her tongue. It was foreign for sure. No one had ever used talented to describe her before, so it was a little puzzling. “Can a mundane craft skill that many have be considered talent?” Brighid asked, more out of self-wondering than meaning to receive an actual answer. As much as she wanted to run her fingers through the locks of starlight-colored hair she’d been born with, she couldn’t while they were tied neatly into a bun. Thus when she did try out of habit, her fingers came up empty. 

“True. Not everyone appreciates their beauty, but knowing who does makes it worthwhile.” Brighid offered a small smile, one that was unfaltering even in its lack of brilliance. “Sort of like a personality survey. It can reveal who amongst those that receive can give back appreciation and admiration.” 

@iona-ia 

Iona’s eyes rounded up slightly, the corners of his mouth trembling indecisively between amusement and vexation as the question, bearing in his mind an obviously affirmative answer, took the fae by surprise. Eventually, his features rested in an almost incredulous expression, his mind struggling to figure out whether it was out of modesty or true conviction that the other downplayed the craft and her own mastery of it. 

Folding his arms over his chest, head tilting to the side, Iona took a little moment to observe her before finally voicing his response. “Mundane? What do you mean mundane? It is not at all. It doesn’t require just the dexterity of one’s hands, but a good eye for beauty that might escape to many. Colors, shapes, scents. I would say it’s rather easy to make a joke out such an arrangement, one that would only bring injury to one wearing it. It could be either too big, or too small. Even the symbolism of the flowers and other herbs you choose. Everything comes together.” As the thoughts kept unfolding, an smirk appeared in the corner of Iona’s mouth. 

“There are many things such a crown can reveal about you, your intentions and about the one for whom it’s destined.”

“Mundane.” Brighid repeated, though the word now felt a bit big and heavy to pronounce. “Lots of elves do it. Plenty have the talent. No one has ever looked twice at what my hands produce.” It was the truth as Brighid knew it, nothing more and nothing less. However, she did acknowledge the point the other had made. “You think I have an eye for beauty?” She didn't ask out of vanity, or to boast a skill, but out of sincere curiosity. She admittedly worked with what she believed would look harmonious and naturally pretty, but she never imagined she was someone who could capture beauty to eyes not her own. 

Brighid stepped backwards a step, her foot crunching down on a dead twig that snapped with her weight. The crackle of the snap was not loud, but she heard it all the same with her sensitive ears. It forced her eyes to drop momentarily, removing her foot so that she could look at the broken twig. “It depends. I can't explain it terribly clearly. It’s just a feeling I get.” Brighid bent down to pick up one half of the twig, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. 

“You for example,” she said, now looking up to observe the boy in her winter crown of barren twigs and sprigs of winter berries, “You like the crown as it is. Find it beautiful. Appreciate the beauty that exists where others would see plainness and lack of color.” Brighid paused, her deep blue eyes thoughtful. “It makes me feel as though you do not like the mundane, the boring. Because to appreciate this crown, you must enjoy things that are beyond the beaten path of convention. You always look for more. Never stay on one path. I feel as though you’d enjoy winter, or at least not hate it as much as some people.”

Brighid shrugged, dropping the twig at her feet. “But I wouldn't know for sure. I don’t know you at all.” 

It had been forever since the two had seen each other. The last time they met  Xiao decided to secretly sneak away from his royal guards and somehow he managed to discover a place, a community filled with elves. Throughout the week of being there, he didn’t sneak out once, but three times! One day he happen to encounter Brighid. They ended up talking for hours, admiring the slight of lavender plants and many other random details of their life. “Let’s stay friends and keep in contact with each other? I’ll write a letter to you!” Ever since that day the two had kept in contact writing letters to each other back and forth. And the last letter he had sent to Brighid was that he’s heading to Insiltous, mentioning that she should stop by at his tea house and suggested the idea that the two should bake lavender cookies. 

Now, she was moving toward the new teahouse in town. It was the one her pen pal of many years had informed her was now his own establishment, and they would have the chance to reunite after all those years. When she pushed through the doors, the jolly jingle of small silver bells tinkled from above her head, and suddenly there was Xiao running at her and gathering her in his arms for a hug filled with familiar warmth. 

Despite her usual disposition to look serious, a small smile lifted the corners of her lips. Without hesitation, she lifted her arms to return the hug. “It’s been so long, you seem taller now somehow.” Brighid said, tilting her head upwards as they stepped away from each other. The state of the teahouse hadn't really registered with the young elf yet, and it wouldn't for a little while longer. Brighid was too preoccupied with taking in the sight of her long time friend. “Better. Being here, it’s better than being home. Father was almost entirely unbothered by the decision. I’m not even certain he really noticed my departure.” Xiao and her had long exchanged the details of their home lives, and the sorry state that Brighid lived in within her palace walls, so it was a mighty starter statement indeed.  

“I’m happy I came here. And I’m happy you’ve managed to find a way here too. You look happy and well, are you?” 

It was quite rare to see someone so readily take one of Brighid’s little handmade welcome gifts. Usually there was some uncertainty, or even some doubt that accepting a gift would be polite. This creature though, seemed not to harness any such prepositions. Almost immediately, the little crown was perfectly situated on a bed of hair. “I make them often. Not an uncommon activity for elves to be practiced in.” Tranquil blue eyes met those that seemed to be trying to understand her. She shrugged noncommittally, momentarily flapping her arms beside her so that the baggy sleeves of her sweater fell over her hands entirely shielding them from view. 

“I like for the new students to feel welcomed. The only thing I can make are such trinkets, and so I figure they can bring smiles to those who step on unfamiliar grounds.”

@iona-ia 

“Oh, that explains it.” Iona uttered through his lips, while observing the elf. He’s seen humans attempt at crafting such pieces, he’s seen them wearing all sorts of crowns made out of branches, flowers, wheat, yet none could be compared. Not in the fairy’s eyes. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe too biased, but his opinion wouldn’t change. 

The response made him arch an eyebrow, the expression on his features morphing into slight confusion. Not that he didn’t understand the principle of offering gifts, but just why would she bother, why would she waste precious resources like time and energy into crafting such beautiful objects for every new student that arrived at the Academy? A good part of his reaction did come from the fact that, for a brief moment there, in characteristic fashion, Iona thought it was a favor granted to him, completely ignoring all common-sense logic that could arise questions such as why would she even offer him a gift in the first place. 

“Talented.” Brighid repeated the word to herself, as though tasting it and trying to determine what sort of flavor it left behind on her tongue. It was foreign for sure. No one had ever used talented to describe her before, so it was a little puzzling. “Can a mundane craft skill that many have be considered talent?” Brighid asked, more out of self-wondering than meaning to receive an actual answer. As much as she wanted to run her fingers through the locks of starlight-colored hair she’d been born with, she couldn't while they were tied neatly into a bun. Thus when she did try out of habit, her fingers came up empty. 

“True. Not everyone appreciates their beauty, but knowing who does makes it worthwhile.” Brighid offered a small smile, one that was unfaltering even in its lack of brilliance. “Sort of like a personality survey. It can reveal who amongst those that receive can give back appreciation and admiration.” 

Billie Eilish

The grass has begun to falter, tall green blades now bow reluctantly back toward the ground. They almost appear tired, ready for a season’s rest after withstanding months of heavy unrelenting summer sun. Patches of grass have already thinned out enough to expose the dirt below, like a man’s bald head worsening with age. Unlike the bald man who will never recover their hair, however, the grass will regrow with certainty once spring dances across the fields. 

The boy hooted and wolf-whistled at his girlfriend as she began striking much more glamorous poses. The echos of the noise reverbated off of Brighid’s sensitive ears and she couldn't help but look at them again. They were undoubtedly the sort of people that enjoyed attention and didn't mind being a little obnoxious. “Adult movie actor? That’s a far cry from an assassin.” She mused aloud. “What are adult movies? I thought all movies were available to adults.” 

Crinkling paper filled Brighid’s ears as Styles’ friend worked it around the pumpkin in an attempt to really ensure the little thing was properly protected. “I live in the school dorms.” Brighid supplied easily. The pumpkin was now nice and snug in its little crate, so she bent down to put it on the ground just long enough to stuff an appropriate sum of paper money into the little collection mason jar where payments were made to collect pumpkins. Seeing as how no one was present to watch the jar, she assumed the pumpkin patch operated on an honor system. “If you’d like it, you can have the pumpkin.” she offered, simple sincerity coating her words. 

It was difficult to miss the very slight, but distinctive shift in the man’s eyes. Even his tone was a little harsher. It should have taken the young elven girl aback, but she just maintained her lofty eye contact with him. Years of being talked to with disdain had somewhat ruined such things for her. She was not stronger in the face of it, but knew how to survive it. 

“To lead someone on is a terrible path. I’m too plain to lead anyone on. I’m too broken to want to cause pain for someone else. All I ever wanted to do with my life is live it quietly. Since meeting Styles, I wish he would live his life happily. I have a selfish wish that maybe I can be happy too. He brings me the unfathomable happiness that has eluded me. I’m not leading him on.”

To my boisterous poet pirate, If you are in the mood for some adventure with yours truly, and and afternoon spent together, meet me at the edge of the forest by the human village by the big boulder that sits beneath the willow tree? You have a three hours to make your preparations and come to the meeting point. The journey begins now if you wish to walk down the path. Of course, if you are busy or do not wish to do this with me, I will understand. -Brighid

The letter had been delivered not long ago. Technology and shining electronic screens would have been more efficient and less physically demanding, perhaps, but Brighid felt this required a more personable touch. Something about a handwritten letter in her neat flowing cursive script on parchment paper just seemed more endearing. It had been sealed with a navy blue wax seal. The imprint of the seal shaped into the constellation Cygnus, simple but recognizable as a set of stars in the sky. Now it was a game of waiting. Wait to be rejected, or wait to see a familiar face traversing up the little hill to the boulder she was sat on. It was by no means a comfortable place to rest, the harsh solid surface of the boulder uneven and jagged in places, but she was small enough that she could fit on a relatively even side that existed. She swung her legs idly, the ankles crossed one over the other, and kept her gaze skyward. Try as she might, she could see none of the stars that she knew were up there. They called to her even during the day. A swan song that her half-blooded veins could hear despite their diluted connection. Not for the first time, she pondered how it was for her father to hear that soothing tune of the skies. After all, it must be much louder and stronger to him as a full-blooded Celestielf. So lost in thought was she, that she did not catch the distant plodding of feet on the grassy earth towards her.

Brighid stepped silently beside Styles, looking around at the giant replica she’d produced for him. Did it look a lot like the elven realm where he had ventured? Or was her little slice of the world a different touch of flora and trees? “Yea. I know it’s not the real thing, but, I thought maybe you’d enjoy seeing it.” A bit hesitant herself, she maneuvered her legs gracefully through the folds of her elven dress until she stood a few steps ahead of Styles.

“This is what the uninhabited area around my home looks like. Sort of.” Nothing could be done really, to avoid how Brighid’s skin caught beneath the strong midday sunshine. Without the cover of trees to hide her beneath their strong arms, the suddenness of the light assaulted her eyes and caused them to close in defense. She raised her arm to shield her eyes and tried opening them again, squinting out at Styles. 

“You always seem to harbor a deep longing for elven lands. I just wanted a way to give that to you. Even if it’s just an artificial taste.” Brighid glanced around at her creation, wondering if perhaps it was actually not such an impressive gift. “My abilities aren’t the best, but this place can belong to us.” 

16! That was quite a number for siblings alone. Large families are not uncommon amongst elves, but no elf that Brighid had known personally had ever been home to so many siblings. The thought of so many personalities running around the same home sounded chaotic, but Brighid found the thought rather nice. Much nicer at least than being a single child with no one to talk to. “It sounds like you were never lonely in your home. Your family is so large just amongst the immediate family.” 

“Onyx is a beautiful name. Do you talk to him often now that you are here at the academy?” Brighid asked. The little fairy’s life was quit interesting to her, and he seemed more than willing to share tales of his life. “Is he older or younger than you?” 

Brighid smiled at her friend. “I remember the day you got stuck in my hair. You were so upset. I’m glad that you found someone with whom you can share your troubles and your pain. Of course, if you needed a second shoulder to rest on, I could be there too. We are good friends, right?” 

“Yes. He changed his appearance when we went to the balls. More formal. Still rugged, but more formal than his usual pirate-y ensembles.” Now that she was thinking about his clothes, his style, the elf was a little puzzled by how to describe his look in general. Rugged suited him, yes. But, sort of effortlessly trendy? Like he could wear any combination of clothes and it would look perfectly thrown together on him. Or was that bias? 

Her fingers curled around the hard cold plastic of the hanger that had the white sweater hanging from it. Instinctively, her face turned downward to look at the offered clothing piece. It was her style. Baggy and a sweater. Fuzzier than she would have chosen, but not ugly. “No, not lips.” Brighid said holding the sweater up over her chest as though she could try it on that way. 

@vee-ia

             “Oh no, I was never lonely and it was never silent around me. It was amazing so when I came here it was quite the adapting since it was silent and in the beginning I didn’t have a roommate so it was so silent it used to scare me a little, you know, when the silence is deafening? I used to never understood that when people said that but now I do!!”

             He nodded as they went through the clothes “I write Onyx a lot of letters and he writes them back, we have actually gotten a lot closer throughout the years of writing.” he told her and then hummed “Older, but only by a few years, ten or so.” Of course they were good friends and he nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and nuzzling close “of curse we are good friends, you’re one of my best friends!! It’s true!! and I think one of my prettiest friends too! I remember us meeting I was soooo scared.” he thought about it and giggled- it sounded like bells.

“If you’d like, I have some elven-made stationary paper you could have for your next few letters.” Brighid offered, making a mental note of where said paper was located in her room. Under the bed, trapped beneath a pile of rocks she had gathered and hoarded for no other reason than they made her happy. The nuzzling drew her attention back to the energetic boy and she almost laughed out loud. Is this what having a puppy was like? 

Determined now to keep her eyes focused on the sweater, slender fingers began to pick at random little tufts of fluff, testing to see if bits would eventually start to fall off. A sign of cheaply made fabric. “No.” Was that a custom thing to do? “I don’t know. We aren't actually a couple yet, just courting. I think he wants to respect the rules of courtship.” Brighid tilted her head, not because she was inspecting the sweater, but because of the question. 

“His whole face is nice.” 

(  lyric  sentence  starters  taken  from  various  joji  songs.  )

❛ will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips? ❜

❛ will your lover caress you the way, that i did? ❜

❛ i just wanna make sure you’re okay. ❜

❛ i thought we’d last forever. ❜

❛ the demons told me everything. they whisper in the night. ❜

❛ you don’t know me, what the fuck you mean? ❜

❛ i’m a bitter fuck. ❜

❛ i don’t wanna live in my skin no more. ❜

❛ i won’t fuck with you if you don’t fuck with me. ❜

❛ so tell me, am i crazy? ❜

❛ i don’t wanna waste my time if i can’t be by your side. ❜

❛ you’re only on my mind when i need you. ❜

❛ i promise you my heart is made of gold. ❜

❛ would it kill you just to throw a little bit of attention? ❜

❛ would you hate me if i said goodbye? ❜

❛ i don’t smile for the camera, only smile for you. ❜

❛ don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms. ❜

❛ you should be with him, i can’t compete. ❜

❛ i’ll see you in the next life. ❜

❛ i promise i won’t lie, we’ll make it out alive. ❜

❛ so punish me, i’m hanging on your noose. ❜

❛ so pull me up so i can breathe with you. ❜

❛ i can’t get over you. ❜

❛ teach me to love just to let me go. ❜

❛ but right now i’m just not strong enough for you. ❜

❛ i don’t feel the way they programmed me to feel today. ❜

❛ you and i, we are one in the same. ❜

❛ i wish you were here with me now. ❜

❛ right now, laying here alone is heaven. ❜

❛ i just need you one more time to get it right, you know. ❜

❛ i fell for your magic, i tasted your skin. ❜

❛ i know you’re not in love like you used to be. ❜

❛ when night falls i am your escape. ❜

❛ when you lay alone, i ache. ❜

❛ if you’ve been waiting for falling in love, you don’t have to wait on me. ❜

❛ i’ve been aiming for heaven above, but an angel ain’t what i need. ❜

❛ not anyone, you’re the one. ❜

❛ what you want is what i want, sincerity. ❜

❛ hold me close cause you never know just how long our lives will be. ❜

❛ there’s something in your laugh that makes me fear the way you smile. ❜

❛ we can pretend we’re normal people. ❜

❛ we don’t gotta love each other right, we just gotta make it through the night. ❜

❛ by the way you move, i know you want me to. ❜

❛ if you ever go, all the songs that we like will sound like bittersweet lullabies. ❜

❛ those chills that i knew, they were nothing without you. ❜

❛ you’re the one i can’t lose. ❜

❛ no one loves me like you do. ❜

❛ since i met you, all the gloomy days just seem to shine a little more brightly. ❜

The grass has begun to falter, tall green blades now bow reluctantly back toward the ground. They almost appear tired, ready for a season’s rest after withstanding months of heavy unrelenting summer sun. Patches of grass have already thinned out enough to expose the dirt below, like a man’s bald head worsening with age. Unlike the bald man who will never recover their hair, however, the grass will regrow with certainty once spring dances across the fields. 

“You feel it’s energy? Of living things?” What did she sense in him? Did she only sense the body he inhabited or also the energy creature that had taken the young man as a host? He wondered about that for a short moment before he continued his talk with her. “That’s true, Styles is like you but with animals. Can you talk to them too?” he asked as he reached over to the pumpkin and with surprising care picked it up for her.

“Here.” he handed her the pumpkin as he had picked it up and led her to where they could get a small wooden crate for the pumpkin to take it along. “I imagine he didn’t tell you about me, since he wouldn’t mention someone with a profession like mine to a lady like you. he is very protective over you, you know.”

He took her hand and shook it before continuing and putting some newspaper into a wooden crate and offering it to Brighid to put the pumpkin in.

“All his friends are curious about you, you know.” He said as he took her appearance in and the way she moved and talked. Ra would never have thought Styles to fall for someone like Brighid.

Love was weird.

The mention of Styles and animals dragged out various memories of the pirate with his little squirrel companion. She recalled being surprised but happy to see the lively interactions between the two when they first met. How the squirrel had briefly leapt onto her in greeting and then returned to Styles. Other than with Fred, she had not seen Styles interact much with animal-kind. 

“No. Not in a literal sense.” She said, “They just... feel calm around me? They know I mean them no harm and I can sense what they are feeling.” Brighid was no animal-whisperer. More like an animal-understander? It wasn't very impressive, she supposed quietly, when compared to the people who could actually exchange conversations with animals. 

Somewhat surprised, Brighid reached out to accept the deformed pumpkin and watched as it was placed in her palms. It was heavy, but no so much that she couldn't hold onto it. Of course, she wouldn't be able to hold it for too long, either. Noodle arms without much strength were perhaps becoming more and more of a curse in the world outside elves. Did the man suddenly want the “ugly” pumpkin? 

Not quite sure what to make of the situation, she followed quietly behind the man as he led the way to an area where people were packaging up pumpkins to take. There was a young couple already situated there, taking their time in picking a wooden crate for their perfectly round pumpkin. The girl was incessantly snapping photos of the process on her phone, the shutter sound of the internal camera clicking every few seconds. Brighid watched the man shift this way and that, posing readily for each new snap, but her ears were still trained on the conversation that was developing with Styles’ friend. 

“What is your profession?” Brighid asked, frowning just slightly. Were there jobs in the world so unseemly that they should be hidden? Murders for hire were not respectful jobs, but they were just another facet of life. Nothing to hide there in her opinion. Her eyes slid back to the man who brought forward a crate for the pumpkin in her hand. 

He didn’t look like an assassin. Then again, they never do. 

A fully prepared crate was offered to her and Brighid gently deposited the pumpkin within. The slightly grainy surface of the pumpkin rubbed off on her fingertips as she slid her hands out from beneath it, weeks of dirt rubbing off on her skin. “Why?” She asked simply, now taking a few moments to rub her hands together in attempt to clear off the dirt. “What has Styles been saying about me? I’m not very interesting. Not enough to pique the interest of strangers.” 

Brighid looked into the man’s eyes, a distant sort of curiosity floating in the sea of blue. “Were you curious, too?” 

           It was a Thursday afternoon when he appeared on her doorstep after texting her they were going out that afternoon. Put on comfortable shoes and something you can easily pull off- we are going shopping and for food and then a movie he had texted her, wearing an oversized sweater himself (he stole from Suga, who in turn had stolen it from Namjoon) so she would feel comfortable.

           “Briggie!” he chirped and hugged her when she opened the door. “Let’s get you happy clothing!”

         The man she described did sound absolutely perfect for her and Vee was so excited to hear that she had such a delightful gentleman in her life. She should work hard to keep him!! That was what Vee thought anyway- work hard to keep those we love. To make them happy!

         Oh, so he was like her? Vee nodded “It is true that shared suffering strengthens a bond. I talk to my Wonwon about things like that but he has gone through much, much more than I have. I did share some of my own pain with him and he helped me deal with it.” the dealing with had been murder in this case but that was besides the point.

         “Balls are dates!” He exclaimed and clapped his hands. “Has he dressed up then for you? Extra fancy, better shoes or perhaps some extra care for his hair?” he asked as he leaned in to her and then snatched a white fuzzy sweater from the rack and held it in front of Brighid. Thinking it looked adorable on her. “You should try this on.” He said and then giggled. “Kissed your hand? How about your lips!”

16! That was quite a number for siblings alone. Large families are not uncommon amongst elves, but no elf that Brighid had known personally had ever been home to so many siblings. The thought of so many personalities running around the same home sounded chaotic, but Brighid found the thought rather nice. Much nicer at least than being a single child with no one to talk to. “It sounds like you were never lonely in your home. Your family is so large just amongst the immediate family.” 

“Onyx is a beautiful name. Do you talk to him often now that you are here at the academy?” Brighid asked. The little fairy’s life was quit interesting to her, and he seemed more than willing to share tales of his life. “Is he older or younger than you?” 

Brighid smiled at her friend. “I remember the day you got stuck in my hair. You were so upset. I’m glad that you found someone with whom you can share your troubles and your pain. Of course, if you needed a second shoulder to rest on, I could be there too. We are good friends, right?” 

“Yes. He changed his appearance when we went to the balls. More formal. Still rugged, but more formal than his usual pirate-y ensembles.” Now that she was thinking about his clothes, his style, the elf was a little puzzled by how to describe his look in general. Rugged suited him, yes. But, sort of effortlessly trendy? Like he could wear any combination of clothes and it would look perfectly thrown together on him. Or was that bias? 

Her fingers curled around the hard cold plastic of the hanger that had the white sweater hanging from it. Instinctively, her face turned downward to look at the offered clothing piece. It was her style. Baggy and a sweater. Fuzzier than she would have chosen, but not ugly. “No, not lips.” Brighid said holding the sweater up over her chest as though she could try it on that way.