#1kish

Lost in a Crowd

Black cats were not always unlucky, in fact really all they are is just cats with black fur, however over hundreds of years they have garnered a reputation to bring bad luck onto a family, the way that happened? A long time ago when Britain was still Albion and the fae were wild and free, there was a fae named Roisin. Not that her name would give you any power over her now, she has long since abandoned such monikers, she would glamour as a black cat looking quite skinny and pitiful and humans would take her in.

 Strange things would befall these foolish mortals, things would go missing. People wouldn't wake up on time, and then children began to be spirited away, only to be returned a few days later not too worse for ware, they would kick the cat out and the trouble would stop and Roisin would find the next family to feed her, and so the cycle continued on until it became superstition and habit for the people of Albion that black cats brought misfortune on all households.

 But our story does not truly begin there, no our story begins on one such day after Roisin had been thrown out by the scruff once again, she slunk into the shadows removing her glamour in a huff. 

She was a young scrawny thing, wings still too small to carry her in flight, her skin was a blue grey with very little colour to it and her hair a tousled mop of white falling into her eyes and just brushing her shoulders, her eyes and wings were where her colour truly shone. Her eyes a kaleidoscope of colour; greens, reds, blues and pinks that clash and sparkle brightly with mischief  and wings that were as though made of stained glass each segment glittering as light danced upon it. 

She was brushing the dirt off of herself when she heard it first, the beginnings of cheers. Not human cheers no, but the cheers of the fae. The fae realm was layered over the human one, and often the two would bleed into one another, just touching, and the walls between them would become thin. Mortals would witness the fae world if only shimmering as a mirage and the fae could travel back and forth between these openings.

‘Some kind of celebration’ Roisin had thought. Normally unseelie weren’t welcome at these kinds of gatherings, and whilst Roisin wasn’t fully an unseelie fae she was a far cry from being welcome in the kind seelie courts. However Roisin was not one to follow rules and off she ran to witness the parade, maybe there would be something glittering and shiny to take, something colourful to add to her ever growing horde. She had to push through crowds of fae to get near the front and even then the royal guards were there holding people back, a royal procession, Roisin had never seen one before only heard of the time when the royalty of the fae, King Oberon and Queen Titania would host a parade along with their children. The youngest of her brood was Artair, probably 10 years younger or so than Roisin herself who was nearing her first century. He had his mothers flowing golden locks in small curls framing his face with pointed almost elvish ears and his fathers’ piercing green eyes. He sat straight and serene, his face locked in an expression of calm and pride.

Roisin had never seen such a mesmerising person, she had heard of the royal family and their beauty but she had never quite imagined it would be like this, she stood mouth agape as the parade began to travel on before shaking back to herself. For once she wanted to be seen by the seelie, something in her knew she had to speak with him, know him. So she ran after the parade, dodging between guards and disgruntled onlookers alike, as she began to call his name. Over the din of the crowd she was sure he couldn’t hear until their eyes locked together. She wasn’t sure what to do, here this person was looking at her, seen by the seelie by this enchanting and amazing person, so she did the thing that first came to her mind. She bowed. 

Artair looked on shocked by such a strange person, not too clean, small and skinny but had still darted between the guards just to see him, and had bowed. It broke the hardened exterior he was trying to keep up and then, he smiled. That was when the guards managed to snag her and pull her to the side away from the crowd. The parade travelled on, with the sun glinting in his eyes she was gone. He wondered if he would ever see the strange fae again, she seemed like she might be nice. 

Roisin pulled to the side by the guards was swiftly reprimanded, reminded of her place as “not one of the Seelie” and sent on her way with a serious warning not to approach the royal family so casually. A part of her she strongly denied wanted to hate the royal family. Their position of privilege and ease of living something she would likely never experience.

Decades and centuries passed, Roisin continued to steal and to beg and to con and trick as every fae often did. Although she never forgot that day lost in the crowd with the heat and the sun and the boy. Things in the courts had begun to get heated, the unseelie, tired of their second class treatment had begun to rise up and they led a rebellion, Roisin who had never exactly been welcome in either camp did her best to survive as the civil war tore the fae apart until there was the big push to the fae capital, overlaid over what was now proudly called London the fae capital was a sight to behold, it had it’s gutters and it’s alleys but when you looked up you could see the imperial palace and the noble houses just beneath. However as an unseelie army marched through the streets cutting down those who opposed them with beasts of nightmare and legend Roisin hid. She noticed some of the younger fae, perhaps not even a decade old cowering hiding in one of the many alleyways where the unseelie were getting close and she took a breath “Hey!” she yelled “Over here! Hey dickhead!” that had them turning and looking, taking their attention away from the younglings for just a moment “that’s right I’m talking to you, what? You only want to fight civilians? Can’t take a real challenge? You’re just cowards!” that had them chasing her.