time // june 21st place // the midsummer party @canaan-days
Aoife had faith that Sorcha knew what she was doing. She had faith that this party was, politically, a sensible decision. But Aoife was not political, and she loathed all this merry, may the sun banish all the shadows, let the warmth fill your soul bullshit. She played the game, because it was expected of her, but she didn’t enjoy it.
She’d been prowling around trying to seek out her favourite human plaything, but he’d not come. Or he was hiding, which wasn’t totally unheard of. And she was so tired of all the dancing, and the laughter. Not Aoife’s idea of fun. She’d spent a lot of the evening around the banquet table, but she’d just been ambushed by a Seelie that asked, ever so politely, for a dance. And she’d indulged them, because Aoife was young and keen to impress and she didn’t want to give any of her elders the idea that she was someone that didn’t know how to behave. The moment she could politely extract herself, with a smile of honey and a laugh of silver bells, she took her leave.
Thank god Canaan was there, brooding on the outskirts of things. He looked how Aoife felt. Brother in all but blood, she knew she could set her smile aside for a moment without fearing his judgement. Tossing herself into the grass by his feet and resting her head against the rough bark, Aoife rolled her eyes. It felt like she’d been holding it in for hours.
“If I have to smile at one more Seelie, I’m going to puke. Or fall asleep. They’re the most boring creatures alive.” In this moment, she thought she meant that. At least the humans came up with iron maidens and brazen bulls and scaphism. What did the Seelie ever do, with their holier-than-thou attitude?