Hi All!
storyteller4271/art/Anelisse-762163240
storyteller4271/art/Celeste-758562169
storyteller4271/art/Gandriel-756822786
In case your interested my best friend completed character portraits for Anelisse, Celeste & Gandriel and I've provided the links above so go check them out (fanfictions refusing to link them so you'll have to add deviantarts URL to the beginning to reach the photos...)! She's planning to include other character portraits as I go. Hope you enjoy!
She had spoken too soon.
"Do you think pigeons have feelings?" Gandriel inquired as he and Celeste made their way down a wooded path, the rich sunlight dripping through the canopy in splattered rays of liquid gold and warming the air around them.
"I don't know, Gandriel," she ground out, glaring at the road ahead, her hands clenching and unclenching around the strap of her pack, "Why don't you go ask one, somewhere else, and see?"
He'd been at this nonsensical jabbering for four hours, filling the silence with any scrap of senseless noise he could conjure. Celeste was near snapping.
Within an hour of her leaving, he'd come barreling after her into the streets of Marchedor, squawking about her impromptu departure and that he was "only changing." Celeste had made it evident she was no longer interested in his services and that he was dismissed. He'd pursued, relentlessly.
"Once an Aella swears their loyalty, they never break their promises," Gandriel had proudly stated, swearing his sudden allegiance to her cause. Celeste had countered that he couldn't be that loyal considering the lengths he'd gone to get out of his last promise.
Bargain, he'd corrected her over and over, bargains weren't the same. He'd then gone into copious detail about the strange female he'd made said bargain with, about his reasonings and why she was a 'terrifying old crone' that he was glad to be rid of.
She stalked off mid-sentence hoping he'd return to his apartment and forget her presence. She'd had no such luck. Instead, he'd followed her and peppered her with questions that ranged from "what's your favorite color?" to "do you think life really has any meaning?" all the way to "what's it like having tits?"
Which is what let her to current predicament of incessant rambling that would not halt.
"I mean it's not an unreasonable thing to consider," Celeste groaned as she heard Gandriel duck beneath a low hanging branch, the limb twanging as he released it. "They're very intelligent creatures and are just as much a part of nature as we are."
It was hard to believe she had ever taken this idiot even remotely seriously. She counted it a miracle he hadn't summoned some wild beast to them with the amount of noise he was producing, as every phrase muttered from his lips sent throbbing through Celeste's skull.
"Could you imagine if one could communicate with us?" She screwed up her eyes against the noise of his boots scuffling across the ground in a lithe trot. He was truly far too happy and jovial to be of any use considering the severity of the undertaking Celeste was on.
She glanced sidelong at the large bulky branches scattered here and there amongst the fresh young grass peeking up along the sides of the road. Maybe she could hit him with one of them and leave him to be looted by bandits.
"Now, the real question is do they get as much pleasure from se-"
"Gandriel!" Celeste growled, shooting a glare over her shoulder, immediately silencing the radiantly happy male, "If you do not shut up this instant I will kill you myself and not bring you back this time."
He pouted a little and fell into silence.
Celeste almost sighed in relief, the pain in her head finally beginning to fade. If he could just keep quiet until they could get to Portmouth and boarded a ship he might stand a chance of not facing death by strangulation.
The quiet persisted for a time, the trill of songbirds flitting through the air. A sweet-scented breeze danced through Celeste's braid as she made her way up the steep incline in front of her, her long legs easily covering the distance.
This wooded path almost reminded her of the dirt one that lead to the small cabin she'd called home for years in Vanica, the one she and Anelisse had raced down as children to play on the beach.
She could almost hear the fluttering of her dress's fabric and her sister's high giggling screech as they chased one another through the woods, finding happiness and meaning in the cesspit that was inevitably their lives.
She leashed the thought of Anidre's warm hands braiding back her long hair into a flat plait, clicking her tongue over how long and healthy it was. Of the thought of her first years in Vanica when she and Anelisse would curl beside Anidre at night in that small bed, huddled close for warmth and comfort.
A knot formed in her throat that she tried to swallow around, attempting to force her mind away from the memory of easy mindlessness that had helped her damper her other more grueling flashes of her earliest years.
Peace, she concluded, peace for herself and Anelisse was all she really desired, the rest was irrelevant.
She surmounted the hill and began the trek down its winding path before the sound trickled into her ears.
It took a moment before she noticed the slight tapping noise, almost indiscernible.
Her eyebrow twitched and she glanced backward.
Gandriel was nervously tapping on the scabbard at his waist.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She gritted her teeth.
The tapping increased, almost rhythmically-
"Uh, Celeste," he piped up sheepishly, footsteps halting behind her, "might I say something?"
"What. Do. You. Want." She whirled on him, snarling, her temper snapping as she shoved her vulnerable thoughts down and away. "Gandriel."
His tan cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his head, his tawny eyes glancing off to the side.
"We're headed to Portmouth right?" He pursed his lips, golden skin bright in the dollops of fat sunlight sprinkling his high cheekbones and flashing off the gold rings in his ears, "If so we're going the wrong way."
For all the things Gandriel seemed to be awful at he'd done an excellent job getting them access onto a trade shipment of tea headed for Prythian. His pouty lips and flashing sensuous smile had done wonders to coax the busty demi-fae captain, Fallon she called herself, and her straight-backed first mate into letting them catch a ride.
"My power will provide you quiet seas and fast winds to Prythian if you grant us passage to Vanica," Gandriel had cooed to the woman, his tawny eyes gleaming as the Captain ogled him and glanced him over, sizing up land to be conquered. He'd vaguely gestured over a shoulder towards Celeste, "My sister here has some experience on the seas, and is a mighty fine sailor if I do say so myself."
Celeste had sent him a look of disbelief—his sister? She'd nearly snorted from the obviousness of the lie but instead had only angled her head in confirmation as the Captain glanced at her, green-hazel eyes assessing.
"Deal." The Captain had stood from her position at the table in Portmouth's infamous tavern, the Red Maiden, where they'd found her and her crew talking loudly about their shipment of cargo due to leave port that afternoon. She rolled up her map and nodded at the rest of her crew before sauntering toward the male, candlelight shimmering on the ridiculous feather in her over-sized purple hat. "Though I might require other . . . assistance from you if the need arises," the lovely woman had purred in return, brushing her hand across Gandriel's chest as she walked past him, winking.
He'd waggled his eyebrows at Celeste in victory as the beautiful Captain escorted them both out of the Red Maiden and down to the docks. She'd led them aboard her large vessel, the appropriately named Siren, her wide hips swaying a bit more than necessary as Gandriel and Celeste followed.
Celeste had managed to contain the eyeroll at his sheer idiocy but felt her lips turn up slightly at the corners at her companion's performance, his charisma one of the few features she'd found about the male to be useful.
They'd been shown to a small cabin beneath the ship, barely wide enough to fit both of them, its low ceiling requiring them to duck to access their small, worn hammocks as the sweet salt of the sea permeated the air around them.
It had been mere minutes since entering their room when Fallon's stone-faced first mate had come to inform Gandriel of the Captain's request for him to join her for dinner and "evening entertainment."
He'd grinned like a wolf.
Celeste had been left there to ponder while Gandriel had disappeared to 'freshen up,' informing her 'not to wait up for him.' She'd pointedly gagged as he'd swaggered out of the small room, a male aware of his allure with the opposite sex.
She'd only managed a few minutes of silence before she'd vacated her hammock and made her way to the main deck, itching to do something with herself, to avoid letting herself fall into a pit of reflection she wasn't sure she'd be able to escape.
Ascending the stairs, she was met with a cool, fresh onslaught of sea air as she took in the blue waves splashing calmly around them, the heat of the slowly sinking sun blotted out by thin clouds, no doubt summoned by Gandriel's own hand.
She took up position near the main mast, watching the sailors flit to and fro manning the sails and cleaning the decks as the ship pulled smoothly away from Portmouth. The crew appeared to be a menagerie of fae, demi-fae and human alike.
Something that came as a surprise to Celeste as she watched the young men and women manage the ship, calling out orders as the sails flared to life with the strong westerly winds, another gift from Gandriel.
Celeste also tried and failed to ignore the young blonde demi-fae male pulling the sails wide, his knot work limp at best. They'd be delayed several days if they intended to use such weak knots on their trek across the ocean.
"You looking for something to do?" a deep voice called to her left, catching her attention, "your brother said you could sail, we can always use more hands here to help."
Celeste turned her attention to the Captain's tall, dark-haired first mate, his brown eyes fixed on her face, analyzing. He was human, she noticed with a small cock of her head, his face more lined, skin more weathered than his fae and demi-fae crew mates.
She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the boy attempting to wrangle his knots.
"He's not wrapping the rope right," she quipped, pushing herself off the mast and flipping her braid over a shoulder, nodding towards the young demi-fae pulling the other sail wide and flapping its binding rather fruitlessly, "If they stay loose like that it'll prevent the sails from catching the air properly. It'll slow you down." She glanced up at the man, "I can show him how to do it properly if you'd like."
The male watched her for a moment, assessing.
"My names Vaerek," he extended a scarred hand towards her, she took it gingerly and shook, "We'd be happy to see what pointers you have to offer."
"Celeste," she replied, loosening her hand from the tall man's firm grip. She surveyed the milling crew. "Shall we?"
Vaerek grunted his approval and motioned for her to lead the way.
It had been a few hours of peaceful calm coaching sailors on the deck on the proper ways to tie and fan the sails, the cool breeze smoothing her frayed nerves, before Celeste had retired to her small cabin for the evening, the sun now dipping in earnest below the horizon's edge.
She found out while working with the crew that the vast majority of them were just learning to sail, 'newly hired' Vaerek had told her, watching her with those calculating eyes as she'd taken her time on providing pointers on how to properly handle the vessel.
He shook her hand in thanks at the end of it all, telling her that he'd see to it personally she received food that evening and that'd he'd be happy to have her help the following day.
She'd nodded her acceptance before trekking off back to her room, her heart somehow lighter after the day of work and distraction.
This she could do, she noted, pulling her sweat-drenched shirt from her back, scowling down at the questionable underthings Gandriel had purchased for her. Work and focus helped keep her grounded, helped keep her from plummeting over the edge of panic.
She'd just sat in her hammock when the door to the cabin creaked open and a wild-eyed Gandriel crept into the room, naked except for his underthings and socks, reeking of booze.
"Enjoy yourself?" Celeste questioned, one brow arched as she watched the barely lucid male flop into his hammock, a moan of reprieve escaping his lips.
"That woman is a tyrant," he groaned, his voiced muffled as he lay face down in his hammock, "I didn't win a single hand of poker against her and she took everything from me except my skivvies."
Celeste shook her head, chuckling under her breath.
"She didn't even lose a single article of clothing," Gandriel continued, a pout on his lips as he rolled over and stretched his limbs in front of him, "just kept peppering me with questions and refilling my wine glass. Mother above, I had a lot."
"No kidding," Celeste replied, wrinkling her nose at the smell of wine wafting off the male.
"What'd you do all afternoon?" He questioned, as if realizing she was actually there for the first time and glancing sidelong at her, "That brassiere's nice—need something less frilly though, black would be better suited."
Celeste only rolled her eyes, nevermind you were the one who bought them for me. "I'll keep that in mind. I worked with the sailors this afternoon—most of the crew is new to sailing so I gave them some pointers."
"I'd take pointers from you if you were out there sailing in that piece of lace," he slurred slightly before flopping over onto his back, "though I'd imagine it wouldn't serve much use against the elements."
"That's what my arrogance is for," Celeste responded drily, yanking one of her boots free, "It protects me from all things, rain or wind."
Gandriel turned his attention to the woman, his brows furrowed in confusion, "Did you just make a joke?"
"Why would you think such a preposterous thing?" Celeste replied, her attention focused on her boots, "I'm the least funny person you know."
"By the Mother," he gaped, raising himself on his elbows, "you are capable of humor!"
Celeste opened her mouth to reply when a knock sounded at the door.
She rose quickly and opened the wooden door on silent hinges before coming face to face with Vaerek, a tray of food in his hands.
He quirked a silent brow at her attire and she nearly hissed in annoyance as she remembered what she was, or rather wasn't, clothed in.
"Looks nice, doesn't it?" Gandriel called sloppily from his hammock, ropes creaking as he attempted to look at their guest, "I told her as much."
Vaerek ignored him.
"I brought you and your . . . brother," a wry look at Gandriel over Celeste's shoulder, "food and drink, though I don't think he needs more."
The male grumbled in disagreement, though he surely knew the truth to those words.
The first mate handed the tray over to Celeste. "The Captain also sent down his clothes from their earlier . . . endeavors," he motioned to the side where he'd set down Gandriel's pile of clothes and boots. "She sends her thanks for the entertainment."
Celeste shoved her tongue in her cheek as she heard her companion mutter 'tyrant' under his breath. Vaerek's eyes twinkled in amusement.
"Thank you," she tucked the food covered tray against her hip, "you and your Captain have been very generous with us and we greatly appreciate it." Vaerek nodded in confirmation.
"Send word if you need anything else," he replied before turning on his heel and making his way down the hallway, no doubt heading back to eat dinner with the crew.
Celeste shut the door, the small candle on the cramped nightstand in the corner flickering in the darkness.
"'Looks nice?'" Celeste questioned, watching the sloshed male nearly capsize his hammock as he attempted to wiggle into a sitting position, reaching out for the food, "I'm under the ruse of being your sister, remember?"
Color stained Gandriel's cheeks. ". . . Right."
"Harmless" was the word that danced through Celeste's mind as she handed over one of the loaves of crusty bread and bowl of lamb stew to him, entirely harmless.
She watched Gandriel drop his spoon into his soup, frowning forlornly at the thick liquid.
Harmless, but clueless.
Celeste sat and began devouring her own dinner, musing. Anelisse would love him.
She watched as he picked at his food, having fished his spoon out of the bowl, and realized just how young he looked, how . . . light.
Something heavy settled in her stomach as she stared into her own bowl.
"So, your parents," Celeste inquired later that night, settling into her small hammock and slipping free from her pants, entirely unfazed by the drowsy male beside her seeing, "what's their story?"
The conversation during dinner had been surprisingly easy: they'd talked about everything from the weather to their food preferences. Celeste had gotten the impression that for all of his bravado Gandriel hadn't been many places, and he had an innocence to him that she hadn't originally detected.
He was also young, especially by fae standards, only twenty years her senior.
"My parents are from Monteserre," the male replied easily, his arms resting above his head as he kicked his leg to and fro, rocking his hammock. Sobriety had returned quickly after dinner and he'd swiftly regained his clothing.
So that's where the accent was from.
"My mother is a Lady from the Aella family," he continued looking up at the ceiling, "names are passed through the mother's line there. She's wilder than any fire and wickedly sharp, she's also got a mean left hook," he rubbed his face as though in memory, then paused. ". . . And my father is a florist."
Celeste couldn't quite suppress her snort. Somehow, she wasn't the least bit surprised.
No wonder the fool was so flowery.
"He comes from a decent line himself but spends his time tending to his gardens," Celeste cocked her head at the bit of bitterness there, barely perceptible. "He's so preoccupied with his flowers that my mother ended up splitting ways with him for it. She now lives in a village on the outskirts of Monteserre, weaving and sewing as her pastime."
"Who do you favor?" Celeste inquired, the rocking of the ship nearly lulling her to sleep.
"My mother," Gandriel replied quietly, the tightness in his tone again nearly palpable, "the features and the power both, they come from the Aella line. The only thing I got from my father was his hair, everything else is Aella."
Somehow Celeste highly doubted that, especially as she thought back upon the array of soaps lining his bathroom wall in Marchedor.
"What about you?" Gandriel inquired, "What's your story? Why is a fae woman being raised by humans in Vanica of all places?"
Celeste's blood ran cold but she kept her voice steady as she answered.
"I was disowned a long time ago," Celeste replied, turning her back to Gandriel and nestling down into the loose hammock, "where I'm from only the strongest survive and good luck to you if you're born a woman."
"What kind of back-assed place do you come from?" Gandriel inquired, lifting his head slightly to look at her, something like concern on his face. "The women in Monteserre practically run the place, the men just try to ride out the storm of their fury most of the time."
"Somewhere I have no wish to return to." She felt an icy grip around her heart as she thought of the flash of membranous wings that haunted her dreams.
"And your power?" Gandriel asked, she could feel his eyes on her back, watching, "Where'd that come from?"
"I have no idea," she nearly whispered, wondering if the wine had gone to her head with the information she was allowing him to hear, information she'd withheld even from Anelisse.
He must have scented something on her though, as he cleared his throat, "So what about your human family?"
She thought back to the two long tapered marks on her back. "I was dumped off in Vanica afterward and was taken in by Anidre," she nearly choked on the name, "and my sister, Anelisse."
"Ah, the beautiful blonde one," Gandriel replied, sucking on a tooth.
"You saw her?" Celeste inquired, shooting her attention to the hammock next to her.
"No, but by the way she was described," he shook his head, "she must be some beauty to have caught the attention of that hellish human male."
"Hellish doesn't even begin to describe it," she muttered, staring into the darkness, having blown out the candle before settling into her hammock, "the only real monster on that island was him."
"How was that?" the blond inquired, "Being the only fae on an island full of humans."
"Fine if you enjoy being spat at every day," she replied, with no small touch of bitterness. "I haven't found humans to be the most accepting creatures."
"Really?" Gandriel sounded perplexed. "All of the humans I've met in Marchedor have been fine, maybe standoffish, but never so . . . hateful."
Celeste snorted. "The whole world isn't Marchedor." She thought back on the golden streets and cheerful laughter flitting through that beautiful city so similar to a place she once knew. "Especially not isolated islands were the bloodlines are shallow."
Gandriel was silent for a moment, considering.
"Maybe once we find your sister," she heard the creak of ropes and jumped as she felt the unexpected brush of a hand against her shoulder. She struggled not to cringe away from the touch, "you and Anelisse can come back to Marchedor, start over there. Stay at my place until you get one of your own." There was such kindness in that tone, such innocence. "Mother knows I owe it to you after what I put you through."
Celeste breathed deeply as she shifted in her hammock. "I'll think about it."
". . . What happened?" Celeste gasped as she stood on the crumbling docks of Vanica, smoke billowing in the air from old fires burning down. "Everything's . . . gone. Everyone's . . ." she choked on her words as she caught sight of the grey hands peeking beneath collapsed buildings, horror racing through her, ". . . dead."
"Looks like the slave traders got here first, girl," Fallon stood next to Celeste, her hazel eyes crinkling sadly as her auburn waves lifted in the breeze. "They tend not to take kindly to having their boats capsized and their cargo . . . liberated."
Information Gandriel had no doubt provided the Captain during their game of strip poker several nights earlier.
"I have to look," Celeste insisted, panic creeping into her as she took off across the dock, "I have to."
"Thank you, Captain," Gandriel bowed his head towards the tall demi-fae, "We'll be quick."
"Do you need help?" the woman asked, glancing at Celeste's shrinking figure, an odd gleam of understanding flashing in her eyes.
Something inside him felt as though it were cleaving as he shook his head at the Captain, the woman who'd shown them unexpected kindness.
"No," he shook his head, "We can manage."
"We'll be here when you finish, Gandriel." She nodded before striding back aboard her ship, her crew standing stone-faced as they watched the smoldering ruins of the tiny island.
The male took off at a steady pace from the docks and sprinted after Celeste, her black hair disappearing behind smoking ruins as she raced through the town.
Gandriel's heart sank as he caught a flash of the devastation on her face and quickened his pace, fearing what they would find in their search.