wild

[fiane]

when: January

where: utp

Winter was always one of her favorite times of year. While she may be wet and cold at all times at least she had her playmate. Water was always around her and Fiadh was overjoyed. Aware that she was always being watched for her strange behavior. She would frolic outside with just a t-shirt and shorts on. Making snow angels and the like with her gift. Her gift that she loved and others deemed a freak accident. Fiadh allowed her hair to get drenched in the snow as she gathered some in her hands and she blew air in between. “Can I help you?” she called to the onlooker.

[fiane]

viknaerth​:

“I like to think that I’m quite invulnerable when naked. I’m terribly distracting, I don’t know a soul who’d think to try to take advantage.” That wasn’t true, not even slightly. The whole reason he stood in front of her, legged, on land was because there had once been a wytch who’d looked at his naked form as she farmed him for his scales. He was left an alive thing, less a thinking thing, just a plant with precious petals to be plucked. And she plucked, one after another, a torturous affair. How could he forget? He didn’t, he just liked to play pretend. “Think you weak? Was it not you that just offered the earth it’s life blood from your hand?” Vik was even more deeply confused by who he was looking at, emphasis on the who. It didn’t matter what she was, he knew that her abilities came too naturally to be a mere incantation. “Better than most? Not the first time I’ve heard that.” 

“Then you should count yourself truly lucky,” she said with a smile, “There are several I know who would think to do exactly that.” Fiadh was thinking of the fey she had grown used to. Those who whispered about her. Picked on her and made cruel unrelenting jokes on her behalf. Of course, there were those who would tell her to take no mind of them. But she was a fragile soul and cruelty made wounds that were cut deep into her. Though as she sat with this being she felt no such thing from him. He seemed much too kind and soft for such antics. “I am not who I was meant to be,” she said simply, “There are those who see this as weak and fragile. In some aspects they are not wrong. I am fragile but not in the way they think.” Her fingers danced over the petals of the flowers as she thought about who she had met in her times here. How many knew who and what she was. Judging her before they had gotten the chance to even get to know her. How it had cut her soul. “You’re not like most others I have met,” she said, “You’re much kinder than those who whisper.”

[fiane]

viknaerth​:

Vik didn’t quite know what to make of the woman in front of him - if she were a woman at all, wispy and delicate not unlike one of the flowers he held in his hand. “All of me? — Well I am best laid bare.” Quips so readily lived on his tongue, waiting for an opportunity to bring joy to the small snapshots of flirtation that seemed to pervade his everyday outings. In watching her he took a step back, an attempt to hide his misdeed, confused by her knelt form. Arched brows knotted as he eyed her hand that doused the flowers with water out of seemingly nowhere. A curious sight, one that he hadn’t seen before in person. A wytch? It put him on edge, he knew better than to play with their dark magic but her presence felt much more natural, untainted by greed. “I do have a terrible tendency to follow wherever beauty leads.” He had been lucky to survive his most treacherous run in with a pretty face, dragged out of the sea, imprisoned and tortured for years as a one man scale farm for a wytch’s filthy harvest. “This however is just a wonderful happenstance, don’t you think?” 

Fiahd knew that she had thrown him off guard. Confused him perhaps. But she was used to that. Used to others evading her and going out of their way to avoid her. After all, she should have been a flora, should she not. Confusion seemed to follow her wherever she went. She stood, her smile faltering just a bit as she remembered those who whispered about her. Thinking that perhaps in her hast to water the flowers she had taken advantage of the thought that he didn’t know of the whispers. Maybe she was wrong. It wasn’t long before her smile stong again. “Best when laid bare?” she said, curious, “I do prefer to survey my peers when in their most vulnerable. After all, most think me weak.” Fiahd tilted her head slightly, her brows furrowing for a moment before her eyes focused on the flowers who seemed to be flourishing well now after her water dousing. “A beautiful happening,” she said though her language was little muddled, “I do like this better than most.”

[fiane]

viknaerth​:

Vik was picking flowers. If asked, he was certainly doing nothing of the sort but in the wilds of South Dakota what was one bouquet of fresh treasures but a blade amongst the grass. He didn’t fear the wrath of wildlife enthusiasts or gardening extraordinaires each paling in comparison to the wry smile his token gesture might elicit from his fickle ocean pearl. His discerning hand hovered over fresh blooms, plucking the the most perfect few and arranging them in his grasp as he went. Vik did oftentimes like to run through the most perfect string of words to offer, with practise comes the prevention of failure; not an option for him in his romantic exploits. He spoke softly to himself, poetic phrases attemping to capture the truths of his heart. While he believed himself alone, a whisper told him otherwise and he stood up away from the flowers dewy scent and hid the spoils of his pillaging behind his back. What a most divine vision he was affronted by– oh to be caught by her pointed glower. “Just how much of me do you wish to see?” Vik shot back, a playful smile finding his lips. 

Hearing their voice was an initial shock to the fey. When she had made her demand she was half expecting not to hear anything at all. If anything she was expecting to hear hushed whispers and gasps as she usually had when she was being followed. Fiadh supposed she wasn’t being followed... not this time at least. Not after seeing what they were doing. Her eyes averted at the comment. Not sure how to respond if at all. “I, um, well,” she said, stammering over every word the came out of her mouth, “All of you, I s’ppose?” Without giving it much thought, she walked nearer the being who followed. Fiadh was so used to being alone or accompanied by whispers that she never truly thought of what it might be like to have a real conversation with someone who didn’t wish ill of her. She knelt down beside him, one hand extended and placed on the place where he was picking the flowers. A shot of water burst from her hand, burying itself in the soul where the flowers made their home. “I don’t think you were, erm, following me. Were you?” she added meekly.

[fiane]

Boredom had sort of become second nature to the fey. Watering what she could every day could only get her so far and Fiahd had become almost lethargic. Almost. It was nearly noon when she managed to slip away. Some time alone surely would wake her up. Some time playing with the water instead of working. Looking over her shoulder every few steps, FIadh managed to slip away into the unknown world (as she liked to think of it.) Her bare feet making dead spots where she stepped as they absorbed the water in the grass. It was then that she heard a soft sort of voice behind her. Fiadh halted where she stood. Whipping around quickly to see who had followed her. “Show yourself,” she called, her voice barely above a whisper itself.