On a Wing and a Prayer

…in Dark Moon. 

The third entry in the Dream Series, the form of which follows Dale Innis’s “spontaneous narrative” approach.   Also the fourth entry for Alicia Chenaux’s annual ”Big Bad Blogger Challenge.”

 

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June, the fairy with the nearly radioactive wings, remained crouched onto herself and hovered silently.   She appeared to be turning about.

“In times past we flew there.”   June titled her head upward.  “Along the sherbert sky.”  June’s head bobbled as if looping through a happy memory.  Dawn was slightly envious and flinched a little at the realization that so much of her own memory still remained just beyond her grasp.  Her fingers opened as if straining for something.  For something, the tension in them said emphatically.  She frowned and looked down into her palm.  For something, yes, but not for glistening dust.  As if hearing Dawn’s thought, the fairy laughed at once.  Her head rolled momentarily, which had the effect of sprinkling out long arcs of glow that eminated from the ends of her tawny brown hair.  

“Well,” Dawn muttered.  “Pretty,” she added and then half smiled.  “Happy dust, I suppose?  Well…why not?” and then she watched the fae hover about, propelled by tiny bounces of amusement.  Yet, her motions were very contained and demure for such a worldly creature who had no doubt seen many different horizons.  Her smile resembled that of a mere child, although the fairy was likely in her thousandth year.  Dawn decided this for no obvious reason other than it seemed quite mystical and magical to believe the ageless fae to be in her thousandth year.  And besides…Dawn liked big, round numbers.

“We?  You said ‘we’ flew there.”

More demure nods.  “Adoris, Lilluth, Evie, Favre, Arathorne,” the fae sang.  “And me.”

And just then, one of June’s previous thousand years emerged from its shadows.

They were sisters and brothers.  They were fellow fae.

“June, young spirit,” Arathorne her eldest brother whispered, his transluscent skin offsetting his powerful yet trim frame with a diffused glow.  “The Sun.  The Sky,” he said with a glint in his silver eyes. 

“The Worlds,” Evie chirped in.  Her platinum hair pulsed a glowing light  that was nearly as bright as June’s radioactive wings. 

“New worlds,” Adoris and Lilluth said together, with a baiting emphasis on the world “new.”  Adoris and Lilluth were rubenesque, stunningly beautiful with pouty ripe lips and a plumpness that suggested a love of one two many reeds.   But they were sure to fly it off by lifting their forms into the sky and crossing the boundaries between one world and another.  If only June would join them, too.

“What holds you,” her brother Favre asked her, his hand lightly on her small round shoulder. 

Arathorne gently added, “What keeps you bound here to this place.  We were flying…”

“Into the sherbert sky,” June gasped with excitement, “I just want to eat it all up!”

“Yes,” Arathorne whispered.  “Into the sweetness of new worlds.  That only we can enter.  That only we may claim.”

“Well, no,” she corrected him.  “I literally want to eat up the orange sherbert!  But as for the new worlds, yes…”   She grew quiet for a moment, and then added, “Soon.  I will join you soon.  But for now,” June said her voice tinged with sadness and words failed to be formed. 

Instead, she gently pushed her brothers’ hands away and gestured for them to lift yet again into the sky.  She shooed Adoris and Lilluth’s round bottoms and Evie’s tomboyish form, beckoning that they join their brothers in flight.

“Soon,” June repeated when words found her voice again.  She sat and watched her sisters and brothers hesitate until they finally accepted that she – though the youngest of the fae at a mere several hundred years – was right.  The new worlds needed magic. 

“And this world does yet, as well,” June whispered, “as it waits for the dream to be awakened, tucked in slumber at the feet of the mountain’s giant slumber.  Soothed by the swaying breeze flittering through the trees and the poppies that climb up to the sun.”

When June was certain that she had seen, for this moment, the last of her siblings’ wings meld into the farthest reaches of the uppermost horizon, she folded her legs under herself, returned her gaze with her mind to the stream that wound its way alongside the mountain.

“Soon,” she whispered to herself and to every living creature, “when the dream remembers.”

 
 
Note:  I’m using the last six photos that I uploaded to flickr as the basis for this dream series, and using them in the order of upload.  All photos were taken at the elven-themed sims Dark Moon and Angelgate

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