A/N: I do not own Tithe, a Mrs. Holly Black does! These are just a few of my ideas I would put into a story if I got the chance!!
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Sonda Saraid Signa - Death Fire Pixie
*Kaye Rye - Pixie Changling - Queen
*Rath Roiben Rye - Elfen Knight - King
Worse Weylin Rye - Moth Winged Faerie - Prince
Silen Sayer Signa - Divining Faerie
Cyric - River Kelpie
* - Original Characters
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Saraid's fires
Pink - Pain
Green - Healing
Violet - Illusion
Red - Fury
Yellow- Defense
Indigo – Night
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Cyric tugged gently at Saraid's pink hair. The pixie nearly died in the fire. She had collapsed the fire began to ravage her home. Fighter ran to Cyric and alerted the kelpie of his friend's state. He carried Saraid out of her home; Fighter rode upon his shoulder as they escaped the horrendous flames. Saraid had fallen into a form of post traumatic stress. The three arrived at a hotel in a small town nearby; Cyric had to glamour Saraid and himself because Saraid was unable to glamour herself. The inn keeper was more than happy to give the three a room, despite to No Pets policy. The lady must have had a heart attack seeing a grown 'man' carry a tearful, unmoving young 'lady' with a weasel on his shoulder, soot covering all three.
Saraid was dreaming; Cyric could see her eyes moving behind her black eyelids. He had sat many a night just watching Saraid sleep. He loved Saraid, but only as friends could love each other. He had known Saraid her whole life; had he not promised himself away Cyric's love might be stronger for Saraid. No, it was not in a kelpie's nature to love one of the opposite sex; his father was one in dozens to defy that unspoken law. However, Cyric's love did ask that he watch over Saraid. As common to all faeries: his word was his binding law if he bade it to be and so Cyric watched over Saraid.
Fighter slept upon the very pillow Saraid used; the little faerie enjoyed the warmth she gave off. The TV was on to drown out any talking Saraid and Cyric were to have, but for now Cyric used it to drown out his own one sided ramblings. Saraid slept over the blankets; Cyric didn't want to waste time going through the motions.
The kelpie let the strand of hair he had a hold of go and leaned back in the chair. Sighing, he began to wonder the time. He did not know if it was day or night, if a day had passed or a week. All he knew was that the inn keeper had visited their room thrice and each time she bore food that he nor Saraid could consume. His anxiety was getting the best of him and he was afraid Saraid would never wake again. His glistening pearl eyes began to gleam and swim with tears. A knock pounded against the door a fourth time.
Cyric spun off the chair, his glamour making his monstrous features human. He didn't even bother to put a shirt on when he answered the door. The inn keeper looked at him in amazement; most humans were attracted to faeries despite the internal fear.
"Hello again! I brought some breakfast and clothing for you guys! I had to guess sizes but I'm good at that sort of thing!" the inn keeper said cheerfully. She walked right into the room and laid the clothing and food upon the second unused bed. She looked at Saraid, whom Cyric had managed to glamour, and sighed.
"Poor dear! Has she woken up at all this entire time?" the lady asked. Cyric stole a glance at her name tag, Janelle. Cyric said and sat upon the edge of the bed and ran a hand across Saraid's cheek.
"I fear she's suffering from post traumatic stress. I can't remember how long ago it happened. When did we come here?" Cyric asked, a single tear running down his face. Janelle gave Cyric a shocked look.
"You came here nearly two weeks ago. What happened?" Janelle asked. Cyric cringed; Saraid had not woken for two weeks. Fighter lifted his head and whimpered, he knew something was terribly wrong with Saraid.
"There was a fire, at our home. It was her family home, one that had been in her family for quite some time. I never thought something like that could harm her, she's the strongest person I know…" Cyric said, his voice growing softer and slower with each word. Finally the tears overpowered Cyric and he leaned against his best friend, not even bothering to compose himself. Sobs sent spasms through out his body. Janelle watched in horror as the beautiful and terrifying man before her wept against what seemed to be his lovely, youthful, and magnificent wife. She fought her fear and went to Cyric's side and tried to soothe him.
"There, there! She is alive still! She will wake! I promise! Sir, do you believe in fairy tales?" Janelle asked. Cyric lifted his head, astonished by the outlandish question. He looked at the older woman. She had graying brunette hair and a stout body. However, Janelle carried an old world charm, a child-like fascination with the world. Still very confused, Cyric nodded slowly, wondering what rode she would lead him down.
"Kiss her then! She is your sleeping beauty!" Janelle spoke, green eyes wide in splendor. Cyric chuckled lightly and looked to Saraid.
"I'm sorry, but Saraid is only my best friend," Cyric explained. Janelle blinked, a relationship that close hardly seemed as a friendship, but these people seemed foreign.
"It couldn't hurt to try though," Janelle spoke, wisdom falling from between her teeth. Cyric sighed, the mortal was right. A gentle paled hand tilted Saraid's head towards his own. He hesitated, a moment too long. He closed his tearing eyes and sighed. Droplets of water fell upon Saraid's pale white skin.
"I'm sorry," Cyric whispered as he hung his head. Janelle stood and patted Cyric's shoulder.
"It's alright there boy. I know it will work. I have to go now; a customer is ringing the bell at the counter. Best of luck!" Janelle said, false enthusiasm drowning her voice. She left, the door closing only slightly behind her.
Cyric took a deep breath and opened his white eyes. He had cast the glamour away from Saraid and himself. He steeled himself for whatever to happened. Trembling, leaned his head down and pressed his dark lips against Saraid's bright pink skin. He poured as much magic as he believed he could into her. Cyric pulled away, praying the fairy tales his mother had told him as a child were real, believing magic was real. Saraid did not stir.
"No! God damn me and everything I am!" Cyric screamed. Only more tears shed themselves from his eyes. Cyric pounded a fist against the bed, believing he was foolish to have ever believed the crazy old wench. He screamed, his sorrow never deeper than at that moment. His love was miles away, probably very aware his sister was in a coma. Cyric was alone and he felt it, the pain so much more unbearable because it was coming from within his mortal soul, a being so foreign and alien to him that he never even dreamt one could have existed for him.
"What if I tried?" a voice called from the doorway. Cyric quickly glamoured himself and Saraid before turning, horrified, to the door. There stood Prince Weylin, not even bothering to glamour himself. Janelle stood next to him, her eyes foggy from whatever magic Weylin had placed over her. Cyric released his glamour and jumped to his feet. Anger replaced the sadness and pain.
"It's your fault she's this way!" Cyric yelled, his hand claws. Weylin sighed and walked to Cyric. He moved with pain and tiredness, his actions uncaring and blunt. His red and black eyes seemed glassy, a sadness within him.
"You would be correct, Kelpie," Weylin stated. Cyric was taken back. This man was not the hot-tempered prince he had encountered two weeks ago. Something was haunting him, draining him of life.
"Why are you here, Prince?" Cyric asked. Weylin walked to Saraid and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion kicking in.
"At first, I merely followed you in hopes to kill this damn creature. After she used another of her infernal flames, I was lost. It did not take me long to pick up on your trail again. But then it hit me. The magic I was using to track her by attached itself to me, trying to find life in me. I managed to keep it at bay until I reached the burned tree. All the sorrow, pain, and loss of that place, it all fed her magic and it attacked me again. That time, I was not strong enough.
Now I can not sleep, I'm haunted by this girl and her pain in my very dreams. I can not eat, I'm hungry but as Saraid lies in this state I can't eat. The only glamour I hold is that of hypnotizing humans. Her pain is fusing into my soul and forcing me to find her. Until her pain ends, this magic she cursed me with will devour me until I am nothing more than a living memory!" Weylin cried. Cyric was amazed. Saraid's magic was attacking the prince, even while she lay in such a state. Weylin let one sob escape as his wings twitched.
"Please, let me wake her," Weylin cried. Cyric merely nodded, white eyes wide. Weylin turned and smiled as best he could, a physical 'thank you'. Weylin's snow white hand held Saraid's black cheek. Praying for release, the prince placed his lips against the pixie he had once longed to kill.
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Her skin burned and felt tight against her. Slowly a pressure lay upon her abdomen and chest. The pressure was cool against the burn and she longed to arc her body closer to it, but she was unable. It was dark and she tried to scream, but no sound could escape her closed lips. Soon, a coolness touched her cheek. Panic welled down, she suddenly knew she wasn't alone. Then the coldness touched her lips, and like a key to the lock, she was free.
Saraid pressed her lips to the coldness, the burning suddenly hotter. One hand went to the cold upon the cheek. She tried to arc her body, to relieve the burning, but the coldness left her lips and she opened her eyes. Nearly identical eyes stared back at her, relief simmering in their brims. The heat slowly exited her, she felt renewed but not quite healed. That would come with time.
"Thank God, you're ok," a voice whispered from beside Saraid. She turned to see Cyric kneeling beside her, smiling for seemed to be the first time in a long time. She nodded; her voice had fled her body. Fighter squeaked happily from beside her, his excitement nearly too much for his small body to bear. Weylin hoisted himself off of the bed and stood next to the bed. The winged prince seemed to have more life in him. He waved his hand and Janelle left the room. The three sat in relative silence, although Fighter made enough noise for all of them.
"Saraid, please speak," Cyric spoke. Saraid frowned, her voice was gone. After moments passed, Cyric bowed his head and growled.
"Your work isn't finished, Weylin, she can't speak," Cyric growled. The prince sighed and looked at Saraid with pleading eyes. Fear and confusion fell into her soul causing Saraid to turn away from his eyes. Cyric stood and grabbed the white dress that lay on the bed.
"C'mon Saraid, we'd best get you ready to go," Cyric said, turning to help Saraid sit up.
"Where are we going?" Weylin asked. Cyric began helping Saraid to the bathroom, where she would change in privacy.
"We need to speak to Sayer," was all the Kelpie said before leaving Weylin all alone to help Saraid.
