I'm building this house on the moon
Like a lost astronaut
Lookin' at you like a star
From a place the world forgot
And there's nothing that I can do
Except bury my love for you
The brightness of the sun will give me just enough
To bury my love in the moon dust
I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice
To bury my love in the moon dust
Nothing can breathe in the space
Colder than the darkest sea
I have dreams about the days driving through your sunset breeze
But the first thing that I will do
Is bury my love for you
I'm a cast away, and men reap what they sow
And I say what I know to be true
Yeah, I'm living far away on the face of the moon
I've buried my love to give the world to you
I've buried my love in the moon dust
Hel looked up at Eros, across the rim of her teacup. The words startled her and she put her teacup back onto the table. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” she replied carefully. “What did I steal from you?”
It had been such a lovely day. The fae had woken up to one of the first warm days in weeks, sunlight streaming through his windows as the dainty jingling of wind chimes rode the breeze. Rarely awake before noon, and even rarer to be pleased with it, he hadn’t even bothered taming the wild bedhead that seemed to be a permanent issue with his newly shortened locks, simply rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants, dove back onto the bed to throw pillows and blankets about until he located his phone, then meandered his way downstairs and out of the Tree to go find a nice patch of sun-warmed grass.
A few hours later, sprawled out on his stomach in the middle of the clearing next to the Tree, flipping through his phone browser is when he feels it... a disturbance in The Force. A darkness approaches… he muses with a silent chuckle. Not bothering to acknowledge the dryad’s presence, instead continuing to give his current internet search his full attention was perhaps where he went wrong. He has milliseconds to consider his mistake, from the moment he realizes she has launched herself from the ground and become airborne, to the instant she slams onto his back like a cat pouncing onto a lizard who had been stupid enough to play dead instead of run. As previously stated…
It had been such a lovely day.
Wind knocked from his diaphragm at the impact Puck chokes/wheezes with his face shoved into the grass, the attempt at catching his breath hampered by the solid weight straddling his lower back and bouncing with laughter. Coughing out a string of extremely colorful expletives the fae scowls up, a mass of chocolate brown hair blocking out the light and wild, feral eyes glint golden with unrestrained mirth as Faera hangs her head upside down over his with a tittering giggle. Despite the ache in his ribs the irritation fizzles out at seeing her so energized for the first time in months; she wasn’t accustomed to sitting out a winter Up Top and it had taken its toll on her, physically and emotionally. With a resigned sigh he rolls his eyes at her but opts not to throw her across the field, a sign she takes as his begrudging compliance. “You’re in rare form today, I was hoping to have at least a few more days of blissful silence before you crawled out of your bedroom...” Eyes back on the phone screen he swipes his finger across it to speed scroll through the images, grumbling with a bored tone as she wriggles to get comfortable. “Luuuuucky me.”
Snickering at his perceived ‘bad luck’ Faera falls forward to flop against his back, her own tanned legs stretching out along his, annoyed at the abrasive cloth of his pants. Arms wrapping around his neck she shoves her face next to his so that her nosy ass can look at what on his phone could possibly be sooo important that he was actively ignoring all her attempts at pissing him off. It takes a second of scanning the images before her head jerks back with a disgusted snort and it’s her turn to roll her eyes with a mocking chuckle. “Seriously? Valentine ideas?! Since when do you have to search for ideas to be your typical disgustingly mush-brained self?” Singularly unimpressed with the topic she rolls over onto her back, still very much balanced on his back.
The fae beneath her grumbles, whether it is in response to her jeering or the way her hair fell in his face when she drops her head back onto his shoulder is anyone’s guess. She couldn’t care less; it was enough that she’s successfully pestering him. Picking at her nails absentmindedly she shrugs against his shoulders, voice low if not a bit conspiratorial. “You could always have your dear sister sneak into the royal vault again to… borrow… more jewels for her? I mean, she’s already got the crown, necklace, and earrings, might as well have a full set.”
She can feel him tense up beneath her but he says nothing in regard to her prodding insinuations. “And while I am sure she enjoys those things, they’re not exactly… practical? A bit hard to walk around wearing faerie jewels in the mundane world, but currently I am having the slightest issue with being-”
“-practical.”, she huffs out in amusement.
“-yes, thank you.” His ears twitch with annoyance at being interrupted. “It’s just frustrating, how can any of these ideas be enough?.” As if to emphasize his point he flattens out, face falling forward to thump his forehead against the ground.
Faera stares at a passing cloud, complete and utter boredom at this conversation etched into every frowning line on her face. There is absolutely no part of her that cares one lick about this ‘special’ day or the weird little midget woman, but if she doesn’t wrap this up he is going to whine and sulk over it all day. Besides, even if she wants to suggest he simply get her a Happy Meal and let that be that… the dryad doesn’t like seeing him so upset. It’s impossible to remove all of the sarcasm from her tone but she at least makes a slight effort. “Isn’t there some saying the meatbags have about ‘the thought that counts’? I mean, if she was the type of chick that expected jewels and fancy shit from you all the time you wouldn’t have stuck around. I know you -always- say ‘Ohhhh I just want to give her the wooorld!’ -”
“- I take offense to that impression of me.”, his muffled voice interjects.
“- it was meant to be offensive, shush.”, she chuckles, knocking her head into his. “Well dipshit, it’s not about what you want. What the fuck does she want?”
The fae pauses at that, chin lifting to rest on his folded arms as he tucks them under his face. Honestly? He could think of a million little things to get her, ‘little’ things like he’s done in the past: pillows and clothes and jewelry and books. Yes he’s sure she enjoyed them, but what sort of things are most important to her, what mattered the most? He didn’t know, hadn’t had enough quality time with her to figure it out. Huh.
Sharp eyebrows raise expectantly, waiting for his response but when she is met with silence her mouth curls smugly, rear wiggling against him like a puppy who had just been praised. “Ohhhh did I say a thing that made sense?! Hot damn, lookit me go, NOOOW can we go do something fun?!”
With an exasperated chuckle Puck stands up, shaking off the not-so-little leach that had stolen his precious sunning time. Squeaking in surprise when her bare ass meets the dirt, she takes the hand offered to her with a self-satisfied grin plastered across her face. “So what’s the plan, Stan?”
Pulling her to her feet, he removes a few stray leaves from her untameable locks before heading back to the Tree to get dressed. To get both of them dressed. “Well, I’m going shopping, you’re more than welcome to come with. Figured it would give you a chance to get a present too?” Faera squints hard at him, thoroughly confused and immediately uncomfortable with the knowing look he gave her over his shoulder. “Valentines nowadays is not just a day for loving couples, Ra-Ra. It’s become a day to tell those most important to you that they matter.”
She knows his choice of words was completely coincidental, since there’s no way he could possibly know that’s what she calls a certain Spider… her most important… but that doesn’t keep her from nearly stumbling as she follows behind him, or stop her gaze from traveling everywhere but at Puck’s back as he walks through the front door of the Tree, telling herself that the heat she feels on her cheeks and ear tips is just the noon sun. “Yeah, maybe we could make an extra stop or something...”
While Faera breaks herselt in a rage attack, kicking things, breaking stuffs and scratching walls ets. He is several steps away from her, humming quietly, sewing part of a small nest. A half sphere that hangs up from a couple of branches and that are wide enough to resist their weigths. He admires his work and finally crawls up, sitting in the middle with crossed legs. Kokabiel takes a look a her, from his area of comfort, to then extend his many arms open to receive her. "Come"
Meme: My muse is furious. Try to calm them down.
Another hole is violently brought into existence with all the subtlety of a demolition charge, dirt and rocks showering down onto the dryad that roars in blind rage her frustrations for all the world to hear. Every time her fists connect with the ground, another earthen storm erupts until she is covered in filth. It is no surprise then, given the magnitude of her tantrum that she doesn’t hear or sense Kok and his activities until he speaks up. Whirring around to face him with razor sharp teeth bared in a snarl, it takes a moment for it to sink in who it is and she sheathes her fangs, but otherwise does not make a move.
Fists clenching with the itch to keep tearing into the ground, sap oozes from the many cuts and broken skin from her elbows to her busted knuckles, to drip down and pool at her feet. Her eyes such a solid bottomless deep green you would think them black, flicker briefly to their typical golden hue at Kok’s beckoning, but it is temporary; Faera is not fully home yet, and it is the melodic tone of her fae voice that hisses between her teeth. “No. I do not want comfort, I want blood! I want vengeance! And I get NEITHER!“
Hel readied the tea in the quiet morning. Standing here like this with Eros at the table, quietly writing notes in one of his many leather bound journals, it felt to Hel as if this could be the beginning of their relationship, though that had long passed now. The two of them, making a pot of tea and sitting quietly in the early morning light was exactly the sort of thing that happened before the children. Now it happened in the pre-dawn moments while the children were still sleeping. The difference was that now Hell had the oven on, baking scones. Kok would come in looking for food eventually and Faera would follow behind, as she usually did, to antagonize Eros. And shortly after would come the patter of little feet. Gem would sidle into the kitchen to snatch a freshly baked scone off the table and then dare to ask him mother for help in tying his tie. Lenore, still young, would climb sleepily into her father’s lap, trying to sneak some of his tea when he wasn’t looking. Nessa would come in dressed and ready to begin her day. Her long dark hair braided down her back and toes off with a black ribbon, more woman than girl these days. And Edgar would cry and Hel, if her lap was unoccupied, would fetch the littlest of their children, still a baby. Or perhaps Kok would go. Sometimes Eros, tucking Lenore as he did some days. And then, all together at last, they would eat, the quietness of the morning long gone for the raucous togetherness of family.
Hel could see the way that the children would bicker playfully among themselves, dragging one of the adults into the argument. Auntie Ra Ra would always take the side against Eros, much to the children’s delight. And Kok would be far too busy stuffing his face to pay much mind until little Lenore decided that she had had enough of sitting with her father and climbed into Kok’s lap instead. Edgar, still tiny, would bang his hands onto the table, pointing outside to the garden. Breakfast was always too long an affair for him.
The whistling of the kettle aroused Hel from her daydream and she poured the water into the teapot, bring it to the table. She took her seat beside Eros and only then did he look up at her, smiling. Hel smiled back, reaching out to take his hand. “I am thankful for our family,” she told him gently, “but I so enjoy these quiet moments with you.”
I don't tell anyone about the way you hold my hand
I don't tell anyone about the things that we have planned
I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody
They wanna push me down, they wanna see you fall down
Won't tell anybody that you turn the world around
I won't tell anyone that your voice is my favorite sound
I won't tell anybody, won't tell anybody
They wanna see us fall, they wanna see us fall down
I don't need a parachute, baby, if I've got you
Baby, if I've got you, I don't need a parachute
You're gonna catch me, you're gonna catch if I fall (Down, down, down)
I don't believe anything, don't trust anyone any more
But I believe you when you say we're never gonna fall
Hand behind my neck, arm around my waist
Never let me hit the ground, you'll never let me crash (Down)
Hel looked at the little boy in astonishment. This child before her was none other than Eros, her dear friend. His soul told her as much. But he was young. He was a child.
“Hello Eros,” she said gently. “Do you remember me?” She couldn’t tell what had happened to make him a child again so she couldn’t be sure that he even recognized her. “I’m your friend, Hel,” she explained gently. She didn’t want to frighten the poor boy. She was a stranger after all and children were often warned to stay away from strangers.
“You look like an accident.” - Kokabiel tilts his head aside without a spark of shame, using one of the Watcher's skills that not many know he has. His eyes that lock the Universe and stars crawls under her illusion, looking to her real skin like if she is wearing no mask. - "Are you waiting for Eros.?" he wonders, Smiling with young innosence to her. ((Kokabiel - Hela))
Hel inhaled sharply. It was rare that a being could see past her glamour and even more rare to comment on her appearance. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “You can see what I am.” And his being was unfamiliar to her. Such a soul as his she had never seen before. “Yes, I am waiting for Eros. Are you?” she asked, confused about this strange creature. What connection could he have to Eros?
