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Summary: A look at our favorite characters from a different point of view.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by Harry Potter and Rogue from the X-Men. I hope you enjoy! Thanks again to Rabastan for taking a sneak peak.
Erised
by owelpost
As far as way stations go, the Dal Riata is one of the more lively ones. The moment I entered I could feel the atmosphere of merriment. As I made my way to the bar from the front door, I passed a pool table of rowdy young Fae, drinking and jeering raucously. They were so sociable that it took me a moment to recognize the mixture of both Light and Dark. I couldn't keep the unrestrained smile off my face, the corners of my mouth tugging their way up before my brain had even registered the muscular mutiny. I wiggled my lips from side to side to remove it and continued on my way, but not before colliding into a young dark skinned woman with long, crinkly-permed hair.
Our shoulders crashed, effectively knocking one another off stride. I reached out, gripping her upper arm gently by way of apology. I allowed the smile to return and hoped that it conveyed my condolences at my complete lack of spatial-awareness. "I'm so sorry," I said, just in case she didn't get it. But she returned my smile graciously, said nothing, and moved on. By the way she put her head down as she passed other patrons, shoulders hunched forward, I would guess she was upset and distracted by something. I watched her for a moment longer before turning to resume fighting my way to the bar. But I was forced to halt again. Directly behind me stood a beautiful blonde woman who also appeared to be watching the young woman retreat. As the other woman disappeared outside, the blonde frowned intensely prior to shifting her attention to me.
"Are you all right?" she asked, replacing the frown with a ghost of a smile that was obviously forced with practiced politeness.
"I'm fine, thank you."
It's not often that I am guilty of being unobservant, but having been knocked off balance by the sad young woman had apparently put me off my game. The woman before me was human, I realized, as evidenced by the necklace which bore, of all things, an amulet depicting the Ash's mark. That explained her indirect subservience. Most would not have noticed the way she took the tiniest step back and bowed her head only slightly in deference to my presence.
She clasped her hands together, offered another half-hearted smile and said, "I'm glad. Would you excuse me?"
"Of course," I replied, moving to the side so that she could go around me. I watched her gather a black leather coat off the chair next to her, fold it over her arm before tracing the same route her friend had taken.
This way-station is definitely unique, I thought as I continued to jostle my way between patrons. It was not often that one would find humans in a Fae establishment. Given the non-reaction of those who apparently frequented the Dal, the presence of humans was grudgingly tolerated. It was refreshing and I found myself relaxing slightly as I climbed onto a barstool and squirmed into a comfortable position. I intended on spending some time here, observing.
The bartender slash way-station attendant was at the opposite end of the bar, serving two dark haired women. On the bar was a very large lineup of shot glasses. The taller of the two women was fiddling with one of the full shots. Her shoulders were hunched forward and she wore a look of barely restrained agony. The smaller brunette was smiling awkwardly and making animated jokes while the bartender looked on worriedly. Finally the woman stopped toying with her drink and brought it to her lips. She tossed her head back, expertly downing the shot. She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth as she slammed the glass down. She picked up the next, shooting it too. Her companion affectionately rubbed her back before taking her own shot.
The bartender refilled their glasses but he must have noticed me because he said something to the women and made his way over.
"What can I get for you this evening?" he asked. I examined him for a moment. I knew he had made his own observations a little less obviously as he made his way over to me. He had come to his snap-conclusions before he reached my side, but I was more of lingering study. I wanted him to know I was trying to get the lay of the land. I absorbed the crisp white button-down shirt that hung just a little loosely from his torso. His pants were also a touch too big, needing a rather snug belt to keep them up. Despite his minute wardrobe issues, he walked with the confidence and poise of the countless ageless, wizened Fae I had encountered in my travels. I would put his birth at no less than two-thousand years ago, but a more accurate age could not be gleaned from a mere once-over.
"I would like to sign in," I said.
"Certainly. One moment." He stooped beneath the bar, an easy feat given his very short stature. When he popped back up, he held an ominously large ledger. He dropped it with a flourish in front of me and opened it so wide it cracked in protest. I winced at the sound of the spine breaking, but he didn't seem to notice as he handed me a quill and an ink well.
I beamed at him as I signed my name. He watched me curiously. No sooner than I had written my Fae species than his eyes narrowed. He cocked his head to the side slightly and studied me for a lingering moment before speaking. "An Erised?"
"You sound surprised."
"Your kind is very rare indeed."
I nodded. I was used to similar reactions. I travelled a lot so it happened more frequently than I preferred. Thankfully it was also easy for me to brush off. So, I proffered my hand. "My name is Cleo Silsbury."
"Fitzpatrick MacCorrigan," he replied. If he felt any hesitation at shaking my hand, it was not apparent to me which was a welcome surprise. He grasped it between the two of his. His hands were warm, but his gaze held an unspoken warning. "I am pleased to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. MacCorrigan."
"Call me Trick.
"Trick it is, then." My smile remained, turning into a full-fledged grin of pleasure. This time I didn't fight it. I liked that it was so easy to smile here. It wasn't very often that I was able to lower my guard, but I felt safe here. Something about the atmosphere was reassuring and I would bet that it had everything to do with the lovely, unassuming little man in front of me. Trick was a good man; I could feel it in my very bones.
"Can I get you anything else?" he asked. He sounded a little distracted as he looked to the other end of the bar where the two women were just finishing the last of their enormous row of drinks. He shook his head very slightly before turning back to me.
"I'd like a pint of the finest ale you have on tap," I said. He poured absently, leaving a little bit more head to the golden ale than I preferred, but I did not complain as he set the frosty mug in front of me. I nodded my thanks and turned away, releasing him to care for his other customers.