Author's Note: A very special thank you to the talented and kind Robert Teague who betas this story for me.
Everyone knows that a fairy is born from a child's first laugh- their first true laugh, full of warmth and joy. What few understand, however, is we can also be born from their first cries, the timorous wailing of fear or pain.
We do understand. Some people call us goblins, others trolls, though none can get a good account of how we look. We like to call ourselves Nyxies, after the old Human word for the Goddess of Night, because that's when we get our best work done; in the dark.
Where fairies are warm bundles of light, laughter, trust, and yes, with that specially added dash of Pixie Dust, we are darkness, our wings laced with moonlight, we are tears, and hate, and we need nothing to help us fly. We two races look similar, I suppose. We are both small, nimble little acrobats and fliers. Our skin however comes in a multitude of sky-like colors, from the white of the moon to the black of midnight and all the hues between where theirs comes in warmer shades of pinks and tans. We have large eyes because of our nocturnal habits where theirs seem rather small with wide spacing. Ah yes, our wings. Our wings are perhaps the most Fairy thing about us, frail glass-like appendages, though ours glow with bio-luminescence.
We live in a Hollow of sorts too, though ours is a log rather than a large tree with it's lights and music.
We do have music, though you probably wouldn't consider it so; deep mournful lines sung best by someone who has experienced loss, that stir our hearts and minds. Don't think this means we are without our civilities, for we are a proud and noble people and every full moon when the work is done we celebrate.
You see, the thing is we work with the Fairies and they just don't know it. They hate us. It's a hard truth, but a truth none-the-less. They would never admit it, though, the warm cuddly little things they are. But as with many things in Nature there is a contrary side, and that is our role. Just as they are born from laughter and we from tears, we fill the other role of Nature the Fairies neglect.
I think I should explain who I am now. My name is Nightshade, and I'm a Poison Gifted Nyxie. No, we do not call them 'Talents'; a talent is something that must be worked at to prefect; we are Gifted.
You may be wondering what I mean by Poison Gifted. If I were a Fairy I would be a Garden Talent, as unappealing an idea as that is. Let me explain why, though. You see, I work with flowers too. Foxglove, oleander, my namesake nightshade, all very lovely to look at; but you wouldn't want to have any in your tea, and that is my doing. When the Fairies go to sleep, we get to work. It is my job as a Poison Gifted to imbue all these lovely little flowers, with their soft, delicate petals, with their lethal qualities.
I love my job. I can't help but imagine how the Fairies would react to the discovery of my labors, slowly coaxing toxins into stem, leaf, and petal. I like to think they would be horrified, or concerned at the least that their precious little blossoms were turned deadly over night. I guess I'll never know though, Fairies living forever in daylight, myself working in darkness. Oh well, at least I can imagine it, and it's beautiful...