Rewth
Admin
| Posts: 1523 |   |
|
Fuckin' Faeries - rewth's persona history - 2006/04/30 17:42
yeah... i finally wrote one up. sometimes i worry bout myself. warning. it's long.
--------
"Fucking Faeries."
Yeah, that pretty much sums things up.
There's nothing quite like em. Flitting around without a care in the world. Rather, not a care other than tormenting poor satyrs like myself. Not that I'm a satyr anymore, but that’s skipping a bit too far too fast. We'll get there in a bit. Allow me a moment to rant just a bit.
Fucking Faeries. Sure, they look all innocent and pure. But the truth is they are nothing more than mischievous, half naked, annoying little tarts. Play em a tune on your pipes and they'll show up in moments. Hovering just out of reach, spinning and frolicking like they own the very air itself. Sing em a song and they might even fly a little closer, just enough to taunt you a little more with their perky little... ummm... features. Offer em a drink and they'll flit down and start draining your flask like its going out of style.
But Oberon be thrice damned if you reach out and try to sample a bit of the faerie dust for yourself. Next thing you know every last one of them is shrieking their heads off. Dive bombing you with acorns. Plucking single hairs from yer tail. Even knocking over your mead. I mean, Hades! Spilling the mead is just plain uncalled for!
Of course, you are reading this and probably thinking to yourself: "What kind of perv wants to get his hands on a naked little girlie that's barely larger than an apple?". Well, its not like that, you see. The little nightmares have a curious bit of magic. It's not tremendously well known, but should you ever get a good solid grip on one of those little winged lasses you are in for quite a surprise. You will be instantly shrunk down to their size. That or the faerie will be instantly transformed to your size. The stories vary a bit, but the end result is that the two of you will be evenly matched. I imagine its some sort of defense mechanism or something like that.
I promise you, it's all on the up and up. Just trying to get a little something that’s been dangled just out of reach for years. I swear its nothing inappropriate at all. At least not by Satyr standards. You want inappropriate I'll tell you bout the time my friend Bob got his hands on a pair of mermaids... But we're not telling that tale right now. Back on track.
So anyway. There I am. Just a poor little satyr, only lightly intoxicated (by satyr standards), trying to get me a little tail... err... wings, when it just landed in my lap. Literally.
Believe me, I've hatched some plans in the past that would have put Wiley Coyote to shame. Tried all myriad of traps, snares and ingenious devices. Nothing has worked. but this time around I simply got lucky. As I sat nursing away a slight hangover with a bit of scotch a falcon cried out above me. Next thing I knew a battered, half naked and fully unconscious little faerie fell out of the sky. She landed smack in my lap and lay there unmoving.
Needless to say I was little bit startled. I poked her gingerly with a finger to see if she was still alive, and to make sure she was real. Would have been just like Bob to dress up a field mouse with some butterfly wings and fling it at my feet just to see if he could get a better story than I had bout him. She stirred slightly but that was it.
So then I just sat there. It was all fun and games until I actually hand the object of my desires in my grasp. I didn't know what to do. Besides that I was still trying ot figure out why neither of us had changed size.
A few moments passed and then it hit me. I had to wake her up. Couldn't very well do anything with her in this state, least nothing appropriate. I thought for a moment and realized that when I’m feeling down on my luck, all I need is a good shot of something stiff. no, not that you pervert, I'm talking bout booze.
So I grabbed my flask, popped the top and since I couldn't exactly pour her a drink, I just doused her with the contents. Then I took a little nip for myself and set the flask on nearby log.
Sure enough, that did the trick. Getting drenched in booze is apparently not a faerie's idea of a good time. I'm not sure what the problem was, I wouldn't have complained. But the next thing I know she's screaming bloody murder. laying there in my hands, dripping wet, and pissed off beyond belief.
I've never seen anything sexier.
Course then she realized what was going on and there was a flash of light. Next thing I know, I’m shrunk down to her size, laying in the grass beside her and she's smacking me silly. The whole time she's still screaming left n right and spraying little drops of scotch all over me.
ok... that was sexier. This was just getting better.
Unfortunately the sudden size change caught me a little off balance. Unable to keep my normal steady stance under the assault of this beautiful young lass, I staggered backwards. What didn't realize as she continued to press her attack is that I had just slammed into the side of the log my flask was balanced precariously on.
It didn't end well for either of us. The heavy pewter flask fell off the log. It fell all of two feet, landed squarely on both our heads, and crushed us both into the dirt. At least it was quick. The last thing I ever saw was her face as it bent gently towards me, her emotions a mixture of beautiful rage and surprise. Her lips brushed mine and the world went black. Never really felt it, things just went dark.
"But right now I'm a little concerned about my pants, since I don't know where they are." - Valathina Nailo |
Home 
