NationStates Jolt Archive

It was just another island of a few million out somewhere in the Pacific, another petty dictatorship ruled by a petty thug with his petty armies. It wasn't even that bad as such places went. The cops weren't that rough, really, and the standard of living was decent, if not great. The forest were lush and green and the beaches caught the sunset in just the right way, so that the ocean seemed to shimmer with the kind of beauty that took your breath away. There was always the smell of homemade apple pie in the air and the feel of a warm breeze on cold winter days. It was fall now and the leaves were turning bright and lovely colors before drifting to the ground in a gentle carpet. There was simply something magical about the island and no one could quiteput their finger on what it might be. The children understood and the poets and the lovers, understood on some level, but they didn't know in simple words, they couldn't explain. If they had, they would have been thought mad. That was the main problem with the island, the mad. More people seemed to go insane here than most nations, to see things that weren't there, to hear voice, to lose their grip on reality.

Martin knew the island's secret for he was one of them. There were fairies here, living still in a world man had forgotten. They wore human forms now and had for centuries, their true selves visible only to one another, the enchanted, creatures of dream and legend, and anyone in their hidden freeholds and the nearly inaccesible realms of dream. Tralmo dived into one such freehold now, humming a merry tune to himself. The plump, cuddly pooka boy was covered in soft, golden fur denoting his hamster affinity and dressed in a simple ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt. No one else was in the hold at the moment, oddly enough. The cozy chairs and couches lay empty for the moment, warmed softly by the amber light of the balefire. The bar was also unguarded. Martin smiled and scurried that way, flinging open cabinets and pulling out bottles of booze and fine wines. Most boys his age might be doing this to enjoy the pleasures of underage drinking but not Martin. Acting swiftly, he pulled the labels from the various bottle and switched them around before putting them up neatly. Suddenly, a light flashed and he blinked. Turning, the boy saw the balefire was flaring up brighter and more furious than he had ever seen it before.

Angel pulled his leather jacket tighter around him. To most of the humans in the street, he looked like just another tough. Angel loathed humans. They were cold, banal, prey. To fairy eyes, Angel was a redcap, his razor sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes, and mottled grey skin forming the hideous and fearsome visage typical of that kith. He growled slightly to himself. He was hungry. Redcaps were always hungry, driven by a desire to consume inconceivable by nearly all other beings. Bulging eyes red with pulsing blood scanned the street briefly. A man was taking a short cut through a back alley. Perfect. Angel turned, walking swiftly that way. He followed the stranger quietly, until the man was deep in the alley, before he began to close. The man walked faster. Angel walked faster. The man burst into a run, fear overtaking him, and Angel sprung after. Even as he ran he called upon the power of the Wyrd, bringing his fearsome fae appearance and his sharp, sharp teeth into the mortal realm. He lept, landing on the man's back and knocking him to the ground. Even as the teeth began to tear into human flesh, he felt the world around him seem to explode in glamour. He blinked, looking up.