Ch. 51
“Stain”
I quickly make it to my bathing chambers to grab some towels. The warmth of my wing as already started drying my soaked nightgown. The smell of the rain still lingers on my skin. I hear Oana giggling and Iamys grunting some curse words.
Iamys and Oana have taken up residence in my hobby, or as I call it, something to get my brain busy when the wards were up, room. I rarely go in there anymore. I have never been able to master anything that lives in here and it just frustrated me more. I usually had too many other things to deal with than focusing long enough on anything in there, really.
Oana and Iamys have moved the couch, chairs, and table together. Rearranging the room completely, but I like it. It looks more used, more occupied rather than just being a filler in my warded void. They also have moved stacks of my unfinished paintings out of the way and making more room for paint bottles and canvas to spread all over the table. The grand piano and other musical instruments moved to the far corner.
I make it in through the doorway and I see Oana on one end of the table with Iamys at the other. My friends, my grown friends, a new appointed scout, and an all extremely powerful witch, are painting and harshly judging each other’s work with their tongues out and sideways sneers. Without a care in the world. Other than the angles of their paintbrushes and the burrowing of their eyebrows. No concerns about their unyielding changing power, of how binding creatures are increasing, an overbearing Mother, or even thinking about a mortal fae vampire that they are somehow connected to.
“Before you come in here and say, anything…” Oana’s piercing blue eyes move to me and I step through the doorway.
I’m using one of the towels I grabbed to ring out the water that remains dripping from my hair and I have an extra towel on my shoulder for that fae mortal vampire man…where is he anyway…My attention is brought back to Oana when she says…
“I can guarantee this is better than any of your stick figures and or sad faces you’ve painted. Iamys’ though, I am not so sure.” I at her with and tricky smile and notice just past her, Zanir is lounging on the couch casually watching the bickering painters at the table.
“Hey!” Iamys tries to hold back a laugh. “No, you are probably right.”
Oana lifts her canvas and a meadow of lushes green grass, and fully bloomed trees grace it. Beautiful mixture of colors and detail, and delicate fine lines. Almost like her mind I stroll through earlier.
“Nope, you are definitely right.” Iamys sets down his paint brush and replace it with a mug…
“Give me a few sips of what is in that mug, and I promise, I will only see your art as a masterpiece, Iams.” I says while swiftly making my way to the table. “Compared to mine of course.”
Every color of paint you could think paint is on this table, every size and texture brush you could ever want. Mother never spared giving me the finer things the world had to offer… other than freedom to explore it.
“Chalia brought us some of the extra ale from the dinner. Food, too.” Iamys says holding the mug in the air, waiting for me to steal it. In between the tens of canvases and hundreds of paint bottles a few plates of cooked meats and some desserts sit on the table.
“Oh, Chalia huh?” I says with a little skip as I snatch the mug away from him. “Thank you.” Then pushing the mug to my lips. They are still warm from earlier…I am meet with that bitter hoppiness of this autumn’s ale. Nyx, I needed this. Maybe nine, ten more? I peek over Iamys shoulder to his work and reach past him to grab a turkey leg from one of the plates. “Oh…” I tear through the turkey leg. These mortal teeth are nothing compared to the fangs that lay within. I could tear through this in seconds. “Well…it’s…Um…I am going to need more of this if I am to stand by my word….” I shake the mug in my hand. A small laugh escapes me. I feel a heat start in my core. “What is it?”
Iamys give me a sideways glance and says sheepishly, “It’s Chalia…”
Almost in unison Oana and I drag out the word. “Awwww.”
“But don’t give that to her though.” I say before finishing the remainder of the mug and shaking it to get every drop. “May give her little brothers nightmares.”
I feel a trickle of some wet running down my cheek. I am mostly dry from the rainfall outside other than some of my hair. I look down to Iamys who has a paint brush in his hand and a mouth that could almost be on the floor. A blob rolls off my cheek onto the floor, and there is an intense nauseating yellow glob next to my feet.
I feel something else hit my face and am met with Oana’s wide eyes and her purple fingers from her paintbrush.
“Oh, game fucking on.” I say grabbing a bright horrible pink paint bottle that I plan on smearing all over their faces.
I manage to get some paint on my hands before it turns into a full-on brawl between Iamys and me. I squish his boyish cheeks and leave bright pink handprints on his face. He manages to swipe me with the paint brush he still had in his hands and leaves a bright yellow streak across my face.
Oana’s laughter breaks our rumble, and we are both staring at her with cruel intent. We splatter a mixture of pink and yellow in her direction that dots her face and hair like tiny colorful freckles. Laughter is boiling out of all of us to the point where paint is just flying in every direction.
I feel the heat in my core growing. One I have come to realize is not from me, but from a man that dared to touch me, dared to kiss me, dared to challenge me. Through laughing tears I glance of in his direction.
He has a smile on his face that makes me stop for a moment. It is different than the few I have seen before. It is more genuine, more admirable, more real. Our eye find each other like they almost do, and the decision is already made before he can put it together. He’ll learn.
I take a deep breath and blow the now blue paint that covers my hand directly toward him. Hitting my target with perfect accuracy. Blue, like his cerulean eyes that dance with the orange flames inside of him, covers his entire face.
The room goes silent.
Zanir blinks a few times before a roar of laughter escapes him. I almost miss it, but the fangs from earlier are missing…but the high of serotonin pumping through us takes over.
As if the laughter is contagious, each one of us follow suit. One by one, each nearly falling to the ground. Heaving for the breath our laughter is stealing. Paint start flying in every direction and I will have to apologize profusely to whoever comes to clean this up in the morning. But, as on right now I don’t care. I don’t care about stealing or missing people from other clan and our own clan, the binding creatures, my changing powers, the memories I can’t remember, or even Mother. The ale may be helping, but this is the most fun I have had in a really long time.
Ch. 51
“Stain”
I quickly make it to my bathing chambers to grab some towels. The warmth of my wing as already started drying my soaked nightgown. The smell of the rain still lingers on my skin. I hear Oana giggling and Iamys grunting some curse words.
Iamys and Oana have taken up residence in my hobby, or as I call it, something to get my brain busy when the wards were up, room. I rarely go in there anymore. I have never been able to master anything that lives in here and it just frustrated me more. I usually had too many other things to deal with than focusing long enough on anything in there, really.
Oana and Iamys have moved the couch, chairs, and table together. Rearranging the room completely, but I like it. It looks more used, more occupied rather than just being a filler in my warded void. They also have moved stacks of my unfinished paintings out of the way and making more room for paint bottles and canvas to spread all over the table. The grand piano and other musical instruments moved to the far corner.
I make it in through the doorway and I see Oana on one end of the table with Iamys at the other. My friends, my grown friends, a new appointed scout, and an all extremely powerful witch, are painting and harshly judging each other’s work with their tongues out and sideways sneers. Without a care in the world. Other than the angles of their paintbrushes and the burrowing of their eyebrows. No concerns about their unyielding changing power, of how binding creatures are increasing, an overbearing Mother, or even thinking about a mortal fae vampire that they are somehow connected to.
“Before you come in here and say, anything…” Oana’s piercing blue eyes move to me and I step through the doorway.
I’m using one of the towels I grabbed to ring out the water that remains dripping from my hair and I have an extra towel on my shoulder for that fae mortal vampire man…where is he anyway…My attention is brought back to Oana when she says…
“I can guarantee this is better than any of your stick figures and or sad faces you’ve painted. Iamys’ though, I am not so sure.” I at her with and tricky smile and notice just past her, Zanir is lounging on the couch casually watching the bickering painters at the table.
“Hey!” Iamys tries to hold back a laugh. “No, you are probably right.”
Oana lifts her canvas and a meadow of lushes green grass, and fully bloomed trees grace it. Beautiful mixture of colors and detail, and delicate fine lines. Almost like her mind I stroll through earlier.
“Nope, you are definitely right.” Iamys sets down his paint brush and replace it with a mug…
“Give me a few sips of what is in that mug, and I promise, I will only see your art as a masterpiece, Iams.” I says while swiftly making my way to the table. “Compared to mine of course.”
Every color of paint you could think paint is on this table, every size and texture brush you could ever want. Mother never spared giving me the finer things the world had to offer… other than freedom to explore it.
“Chalia brought us some of the extra ale from the dinner. Food, too.” Iamys says holding the mug in the air, waiting for me to steal it. In between the tens of canvases and hundreds of paint bottles a few plates of cooked meats and some desserts sit on the table.
“Oh, Chalia huh?” I says with a little skip as I snatch the mug away from him. “Thank you.” Then pushing the mug to my lips. They are still warm from earlier…I am meet with that bitter hoppiness of this autumn’s ale. Nyx, I needed this. Maybe nine, ten more? I peek over Iamys shoulder to his work and reach past him to grab a turkey leg from one of the plates. “Oh…” I tear through the turkey leg. These mortal teeth are nothing compared to the fangs that lay within. I could tear through this in seconds. “Well…it’s…Um…I am going to need more of this if I am to stand by my word….” I shake the mug in my hand. A small laugh escapes me. I feel a heat start in my core. “What is it?”
Iamys give me a sideways glance and says sheepishly, “It’s Chalia…”
Almost in unison Oana and I drag out the word. “Awwww.”
“But don’t give that to her though.” I say before finishing the remainder of the mug and shaking it to get every drop. “May give her little brothers nightmares.”
I feel a trickle of some wet running down my cheek. I am mostly dry from the rainfall outside other than some of my hair. I look down to Iamys who has a paint brush in his hand and a mouth that could almost be on the floor. A blob rolls off my cheek onto the floor, and there is an intense nauseating yellow glob next to my feet.
I feel something else hit my face and am met with Oana’s wide eyes and her purple fingers from her paintbrush.
“Oh, game fucking on.” I say grabbing a bright horrible pink paint bottle that I plan on smearing all over their faces.
I manage to get some paint on my hands before it turns into a full-on brawl between Iamys and me. I squish his boyish cheeks and leave bright pink handprints on his face. He manages to swipe me with the paint brush he still had in his hands and leaves a bright yellow streak across my face.
Oana’s laughter breaks our rumble, and we are both staring at her with cruel intent. We splatter a mixture of pink and yellow in her direction that dots her face and hair like tiny colorful freckles. Laughter is boiling out of all of us to the point where paint is just flying in every direction.
I feel the heat in my core growing. One I have come to realize is not from me, but from a man that dared to touch me, dared to kiss me, dared to challenge me. Through laughing tears I glance of in his direction.
He has a smile on his face that makes me stop for a moment. It is different than the few I have seen before. It is more genuine, more admirable, more real. Our eye find each other like they almost do, and the decision is already made before he can put it together. He’ll learn.
I take a deep breath and blow the now blue paint that covers my hand directly toward him. Hitting my target with perfect accuracy. Blue, like his cerulean eyes that dance with the orange flames inside of him, covers his entire face.
The room goes silent.
Zanir blinks a few times before a roar of laughter escapes him. I almost miss it, but the fangs from earlier are missing…but the high of serotonin pumping through us takes over.
As if the laughter is contagious, each one of us follow suit. One by one, each nearly falling to the ground. Heaving for the breath our laughter is stealing. Paint start flying in every direction and I will have to apologize profusely to whoever comes to clean this up in the morning. But, as on right now I don’t care. I don’t care about stealing or missing people from other clan and our own clan, the binding creatures, my changing powers, the memories I can’t remember, or even Mother. The ale may be helping, but this is the most fun I have had in a really long time.
