time // june 21st place // the midsummer party @aoibheannagate
Aoife’s so glad she was never a changeling. What a terrible life, what a dreadful waste it would have been, if she’d been sent to live in the mortal realm. It seemed so boring, being forced to grow up in that dull, narrow little place. She pitied them. Humans didn’t know what they were missing; changelings would always be in agony from a thirst that could not be slaked.
There was this one she’d seen. At Loophole, mostly. Here and there, vibrantly engaged with the world around her. Curls wreathed her head like a crown. Aoife smiled at her once, from across a darkened room thrumming with a bass that ached in her ribs, and Aoibheann returned the smile. It was really radiant. She had the room under her spell, and Aoife respected that even if she didn’t believe it for a second. No changeling was that happy. Under that tongue that trilled with laughter, no doubt lurked a pool of bile. Aoife got it. Sometimes if you look young, and soft, you have to let people believe it.
Especially here, everyone had to play nice. All the politics wasn’t really Aoife’s style, and she hated that they were making nice with the Seelie Court so publicly. But, she trusted her queen. Sorcha knew what she was doing. Rubbing shoulders with the Seelie made Aoife’s cheeks ache from the weight of her insincere smile, but some things were bigger than her. If nothing else, she could enjoy the food and drink. She’d been eating all night, cheeks sticky with honey and cake crumbs. She didn’t care to dance, because she hated how performative it always seemed when you danced with other people; but her eyes swept idly through the crowds, and she found that Aoibheann didn’t share the sentiment. Locked in the centre of a crowd, body undulating with the music. Aoife pushed her way through the crowds, taking two cups of her favourite lavender mead as she approached. Offering a cup to Aoibheann, Aoife invites herself in to dance with the changeling (because she will dance if she thinks it benefits her).
“Thirsty?” she asked, leaning in close. Her eyes, lit brightly with curiosity, searched Aoibheann’s.