Summary: Jay Rhoswen disagrees with the view that Anti-Fairies are dumb animals. After moving to Fairy World, he teaches his wife's counterpart to read and quickly finds himself falling head over heels.

Characters: Jay, Shylinda, Anti-Shylinda, Anti-Jay

Rating: T

Prerequisites: None

Posted: August 8th, 2017

ARC 2 - LIKE A PLAGUE

26. That Was Then (Between the Sealing War and the Sacred Revolution)

Winter of the Blue Dawn - Spring of the Swooping Bats

Mistake Number 1

No one should leave the bunker when the shooting stars are coming down. Least of all a child. And not even an Aos Sí child at that- not really. Not anymore. Not the first of the Sluagh to be born of Splitten parents. Not a child who spent more time beneath the surface of Jupiter than on its outsides. Every day, the shield around our settlement takes on a redder tinge, darkening from maroon to vibrant crimson as the war rages over our heads. Stars clink against the bubble and fall, piling in drifts behind murky plumes of fog.

Ma says the shield will hold forever, and she says it with such conviction that when you're in the room, you can't help but believe her. Father recites the same words as though pretending to be her, but he says it without meeting anyone's gaze. Sometimes he amends it by saying the Snobulacs will surely rescue us if our shield falls. I am less convinced. Not counting the stock, there are only fourteen of us in the settlement. All banished from Elphame when they lost their old forms, apart from me, who was born on this ruddy planet.

I don't want to die on it too.

The thought of leaving had long drifted in the back of my mind. But it only clicked, I think, when I caught myself measuring out two careful scoops of Morning Flakes into Anti-Jay's dish for breakfast. To think! I don't even see my food until it's been filtered out by desperate rationing as supplies strain. And my own Inspector counterpart, who lets me rub his ears and chases balls across the house and is a good sport when I push him too far just to watch him regenerate, continues to eat seemingly unaware.

No. No longer. Each day the shield reddens, threatening to split beneath the barrage of shooting stars. Split like my parents did- like all in this settlement did. All apart from me, the drake born broken instead of as a being to break.

The dish goes on the floor, and the flakes back in the cupboard. I hold my elbows as I stare down at Anti-Jay crouching on the dirty ground while he eats. He's the first I tell. The only one I tell.

"I'm leaving for the Earth colony tonight."

Mistake Number 2

I didn't change my mind.

Mistake Number 3

I disgust them. Here they are trying to fight a war, and a Sluagh drake stands patiently under the overhang at the supply station with nothing on his person except his chisel and his skirt and a handful of smooth stones.

Although I've never seen one beyond the bedtime stories, I know who these folks are. They are kin, of a sort; I would have been one of them had my parents not Split apart. They consider my broken self beneath them, and that's why they're intrigued.

Moments ago, the amber one lowered their trident and approached the supply station. They were twice my size in every direction- a hulking, six-armed brute with feathery ankles and a whipping tail that ended in a tuft. Six eyes. Two in the proper place, one on each cheek, and two on the forehead that seemed to blink sideways from their orientation. The tall ears flattened as the furry creature lowered their face to my level to leer with their lips drawn back from their fangs. Every long finger ended with a white claw. Naked apart from the skirt bound about the waist by a coil of rope. My parents described them exactly right in those bedtime stories, though of course… I'm sure it was easy, since they were once Aos Sí too.

I stared straight at their middle set of eyes, refusing to step back. I disgusted them, yes. And I would not play their game.

"I need a ride off this planet," I said.

"You are broken," was the reply, strangely melodic to my ears. I had been anticipating a low rumble. Still, I did not betray myself with anything more than a blink.

"I am not broken. I am as I am."

The trident was placed in front of my nose, and I set my teeth. "You don't have a starpiece," they said.

"I have this." I unclipped my star-tipped chisel from my hip and held it out. It was no longer or wider than any of the star-tipped points that lined the trident. A dagger of sorts. We looked at it together for a long time, and then they picked me up in two of their arms, covered their head with another, and charged across the field as the stars rained down.

That was some time ago. Now I'm sitting in the base camp, tied by my ankle with thick leather to a metal spike in the ground. I am alone and very cold.

Mistake Number 4

My bond was loosened after the first week, but none of the Aos Sí will let me out of their sight. I am servant and pet, amusing for my small size and two skinny arms. The blue and the green talk over my head as though I'm too stupid to understand. In their defense… sometimes I don't. Many of their words are unfamiliar to me. When I attempt to communicate, they laugh at my accent. The constant stutter, I'm sure, doesn't help matters. I could be more than this if they would only give me the chance. If they just didn't treat me like a pet.

The days blur together. I don't eat much anymore. I feel guilty for being jealous of Anti-Jay's breakfast that day long ago. For what it's worth, I would trade what little food I have for freedom now.

Mistake Number 5

I don't know how I feel about what I just saw.

An argument broke out between Amber and Red. Though I didn't catch most of it, I imagine it has something to do with the decision to retreat from Jupiter and risk being followed by our enemies, or to remain and fight even if it seals our fate. The entirety of Elphame has been lost. Its people captured or dead. Queen Ercel and King Christsonday have fallen. Nuada Airgetlám brought to his knees at Cath Maige Tuired. I can hardly fathom the thought. Only random colonies of exiled Splitten, like my old settlement, and a few encampments of Aos Sí soldiers remain untouched now. The Boudacians and the Rhymepyes are moving forward, with the Fomorians and even the Molpa-Pel themselves hot on their heels.

I sorted out that much, though who is backing which opinion remained unclear from my position behind the cooking pot with Yellow. Either way, Red was angry. A duel broke out between them, of clashing weapons, and Amber speared Red in the side. In response, Red used their trident to fling Amber into the sky like a ladle lifting soup. Amber flew up. And up. And when they fell, still fumbling with their shimmering wings, Red slammed Amber with three fists so they flew back and hit the cloudstone wall on my left. A solid thud and sickening crunch of wings and bone. They slid down.

With the others, I scuttled back as Red approached, the enormous trident lifted with its star-capped points prepared to stab down at Amber's throat. The downward motion was made unhesitatingly. I found myself too fearful to close my eyes.

And Amber Split.

It happened in an instant. A blur of golden Guide feathers, iridescent Elector wings, and blue Inspector fur. Six arms down to two apiece. Six eyes down to two apiece. Red's trident crashed down between them, missing their bodies entirely. Amber's own trident hit the dirt and shattered into thirds.

They, each of those beings who had once been Amber, sat there for many minutes, trembling with arms wrapped around their heads. It saved their shared life to divide their soul, but at what cost? Our tiny force of seven will be severely crippled by the loss of one of its fine warriors. On top of that, where can someone who's Split expect to go?

Mistake Number 6

Amber's shameful Splitting is determined a greater punishment than death, so Red spares their life. As Guidance counterparts are prone to doing, Drake Amber takes off in a random direction in an instant, and no feather either white or gold is seen again. Elector-Amber is far too proud to cry, but her anti-self is not. The poor creature wails and paces back and forth until her blue hands and feet bleed streaks of green across the ground.

"You can't undo it," I've told her, often shouting just to hear myself over how tightly I've plugged my ears. "You Split. The three of you agreed! My parents could never reform themselves. I was born this way, and I've gotten on fine. You are as you are, now and forever."

Elector-Amber was supposed to help me prepare the evening meal, but she watched instead, hugging her sides. After an age of it, she said, "How do you live this way, Jay? Being alone makes me feel naked. Never have I felt this exposed, and I say that as someone who wears nothing but a thin cloth between her legs."

"I don't know," was my response. "I just don't worry about things. My life is my journey. It leads where it will. All I do is keep pushing on."

"Your wings are more like a bird's than an insect's," she said, awfully puzzled. "But they're not gold, nor is your skin feathered with white. Are you the Elector counterpart? Or are you the Guide?"

"My father looks the same way. Privately, I don't think he evenly split from his Guidance half; he always was the pious sort, and perhaps it's a gene which is connected to the feathers. You may notice I don't have a crown either. This is just the way I am. I don't question it."

"That's ridonculous. About the piety gene, I mean."

"It's the only answer I have." My words may have come out rather defensively. I touched my wings with my hand. "I never saw my own Guidance counterpart either- only my anti-self. Not that that seems to be uncommon. Those Guides are a fickle, cowardly lot. For all I know, she doesn't even exist in separate form. Perhaps she is part of me, Elector-Jay and Dame Jay still fused into one… the two of us, waiting for an Inspector to make us whole in a way we never were."

"A child born of Venus with feathered wings," Amber muttered. "We may as well call you a cherub and see about naming the other Elector subspecies too."

"Jupiter."

"Same difference. Fringe colonies of Sluagh eking out a poor living on planets that can't grow food. They're more of a cost to Elphame's merchant ships than an asset, both of them." She rubbed the areas where, in her mind, her other arms used to be. "About Splitting. Does it stop hurting in time?"

"Are you in pain?"

"Not physically."

I shrugged. "I don't know the feeling of missing part of myself. My relation with the Anti-Jay was never intimate. I did not cuddle him, did not feel in sync with him, did not look at him the way you look at your Inspector counterpart, as though you know what's going on inside her head and it upsets you that you can't give her what she wants. I fed him. I pet his ears. We played. Mostly I teased him so he would regenerate. He slept on my floor." As I stirred the soup in the cauldron, I shrugged a second time, with both my shoulders and my feathered wings. "I was born of Splitten parents. This is the life I know."

"Born of Splitten parents." She said it like a curse. "I'd sooner die than procreate in this lowly state." Finally, she released her torso and stretched her palm towards the heap of dry kindling between our feet. "This broken form is limited and disgusting. I can't even use magic anymore."

"Yes you can. Bring me what's left of your trident. I'll show you."

I finished preparing our meal and served it to our masters, and then waited with my own bowl of soup for Amber to return. She did, bearing the three broken points of her trident. I took two and handed one back to her.

"Now, listen to me. When you were Aos Sí, you had enough power in your core to wield magic at your own will. Now that you have Split, the energy inside you has has been reduced to a third each. That's not enough to do much of anything. You'll need to gather a boost. There is magic in the air around you. You can pull it from the energy field, but you'll need a medium to do it. The star on the end of this point should work well enough. Give it a wave. The wiggling attracts the magic particles from the field."

Amber did so, clumsily at first, but within two hours she had caught on fairly well, and could levitate the clay dishes as often as she broke them. "Did you invent this method?" she asked me, flabbergasted.

"My parents taught me how it works, but I'm sure someone else taught them. Word gets around among the Sluagh. We aren't as strong as Unsplitten Aos Sí, so we need to be creative." I took up my chisel and several nice stones from the ground. "Do you have a name? It seems silly to keep thinking of you as 'Amber' when you've lost your colored fur."

"If I share my name, you'll get attached."

"You know mine," I said, refusing to drop my stare. "And I amend my statement. You didn't lose all your color. It just went into your eyes." Though not into her anti-self, apparently. Her eyes were bitter and red.

She hesitated. "Shylinda Coppertalon."

"Jay Rhoswen," I offered, holding out my hand. "Welcome to the Splitten life."

"You know I already knew your name," she scoffed, refusing my gesture. I lowered it with a click of my tongue.

"Just wanted to be a part of things. I don't want to be forgotten."

Mistake Number 7

Shylinda had wanted to remain on Jupiter to fight. But Split, she had no bartering power in the eyes of Red. We retreated from the planet, moving sunward. The rocky, fiery Earth greeted us, but fortunately we did not stop there. We turned instead to the cloudland colony of Fairy World that only recently had sprung up around it.

Though Red had argued we turn over the Jupiter settlement to our foes and fall back to Earth, I knew they didn't consider the decision a pleasant one. The Earth colony welcomed all willing hands. Aos Sí and Sluagh mingled freely with one another like equals, even though one could tell from their mannerisms each considered themself superior to the other kind. Red considered this rubbing of shoulders to be a disgusting insult; a sign of the end for the proud Aos Sí race.

Last night, Shylinda woke me with a rough hand on my mouth. She pointed out how easy it would be to lose ourselves in the crowd of our fellows, my feathered wings notwithstanding, and I agreed. With Anti-Shylinda bounding after us, Shylinda and I made our escape into the new colony.

Red felt obligated to hurl their spear after us, but aimed purposefully short, I think.

Mistake Number 8

I am as I am, and in Fairy World I am welcomed for it.

The colony is wonderful. I may go down in history as the first of the Sluagh to be born as such, but in the Earth colony, I quickly find that I am not the only one. For the first time in my life, I am able to cling to that common thread. Others have shared my experience, my growing up without ever understanding the affectionate way they speak of their lost counterparts, like they might speak of a lost arm or a valued pet. Never feeling what they felt, never knowing why they felt they were missing something when I grew up feeling whole. No longer am I an outcast among outcasts. An oddball in a settlement where being Sluagh went hand in hand with having Split in all cases except my own.

I'm a part of something larger now, something I understand. And I know this is where I was supposed to come. I escort Shylinda delicately by her elbow as we seek out a place where we can stay. At one point she turns to me, holding Anti-Shylinda cradled in her other arm, and we simply grin. This is right. I'm in the same place as someone with whom I am destined to be.

Mistake Number 9

A family has welcomed us into their home. We earn our keep with pleasant chores, enjoying it far more than we did those many months we spent in the soldiers' company. When they fell back, the fighting from Jupiter moved with them. But that is on the far side of the cloudlands, and we all go about our work and act as though the war that devastated Elphame and could ravage her colonies too is nonexistent.

My courtship with Shylinda has become official. It would be impractical for her to introduce me to her parents, and I could say the same thing on my end. We have each other now, and that will be enough. If all goes well, we should be married within the season.

Mistake Number 10

I've formed a special kinship with Falak, my only drakian contact within the Sunbeam household. Many nights have passed with he and I engaged in a game of Fidchell while Anti-Shylinda naps on my lap in a blue and black bundle of fur. He's bright and witty, and privately Shylinda fancies him, but I don't mind it. He keeps journals with a chisel and stones as I do, and has such a passion for research.

Falak's critiques towards society are enthralling. The Aos Sí will fall within the millennium, he's quite sure. Either those who have survived this long will be driven into such stress that they Split, or they will die. The flaw in Aos Sí society, Falak insists, is that they were stuck in their ways. They merely existed, and were content to exist, for hundreds of millennia in the cosmos. They wore their skirts, but their ability to create ended there. They developed no armor. They did not write. They built no buildings. They created no art. They will disappear someday and leave no mark of their existence at all. No mark, except the Sluagh.

It was only after Splitting- only then were their minds free to breathe, to think, to marvel at the wonders of the universe. It was the Sluagh who taught the Aos Sí how to build their bunkers and their weapons, how to create poetry and song, how to turn from hunting and gathering to farming and tending herds. It was the Sluagh who built the cloudlands!

And I am proud of us. I am proud of my culture and my people. I am proud to live in Fairy World. Why… I am proud to be a Fairy!

Mistake Number 11

Shylinda and I were married today in a simple affair. We have not known each other long, and under the traditions of the Aos Sí, a union this soon may have been unthinkable. Aos Sí courtship is long and patient, for one might argue that there are "three" beings within their heads who must agree to be satisfied with a partner. But that is not the way Fairies do it, I think. Fairies are so much simpler, and we feel deeply. At the very least, slow isn't the way I do things.

The quiet life in the Jupiter settlement, never knowing the tender friendship of a damsel near my age, was not for me. Jay Rhoswen may have an incurable stutter, but it is no sign that he is weak or will be pushed around. Jay Rhoswen controls his own fate. His life is proceeding on a goodly road, with a roof over his head, work at his fingertips, a damsel in his arm… and perhaps a baby on the way within another year or two. No, nothing can catch him off guard.

Mistake Number 12

Falak says the Aos Sí were not researchers. Written language is new to the universe, given to Fairies by the Snobulacs. There is so much to learn, and nothing yet recorded. He and I are going into the research business together, and what better to study than the nature of ourselves? The Aos Sí will be gone soon enough, and the Fairies will receive their just rewards.

Yes, Fairies, for we are calling ourselves that now. It rings out so much neater and stronger than 'Sluagh', and it is those with the chisel who carve out both history and future. There are still so few who understand written language. Snobbish, fewer still. Falak and I are marking the path. We will study and converse, and meet with many other like-minded folk, and as the Aos Sí fade out of memory, we will record all we know.

Jay Rhoswen

Mid-Summer, 11, Year of the Torn Planets

On the Nature of the Anti-Fairy

A study of the being who is said to represent the Introspection of the soul will now commence. "Inspector counterparts" will hereafter be referred to as "Anti-Fairies". Falak Sunbeam is assisting me on the project. Our goal is to determine the mental capacity and limitations of a small selection of Anti-Fairies, with the hope that our discoveries can be applied in the present day and replicated in time when a wider selection of Anti-Fairies is readily available.

Subject 1 is strong and patient.

Subject 2 is young and sturdy.

Subject 3 is gentle and curious.

Subject 4 is lithe and friendly.

Subject 5 is distant and watchful.

It has long been common knowledge that Anti-Fairies are capable of following simple commands and can be housebroken. Over the coming months, we will push them further by testing their facial recognition abilities, examining their play, comparing their development to that of Fairy children. An attempt will also be made to teach them basic language skills.

Mistake Number 14

The mirror I was using to test Anti-Fairy facial recognition broke in my hands. Shortly after that, I was dog-piled by the subjects and sustained serious injuries to my neck and head. Only a week in and it seems I will already have to take some time off from the project. I am being relocated upstairs to rest.

Mistake Number 15

Shylinda has been a great comfort in this time. I may not understand the affectionate feelings those who have Split express towards their counterparts, but I do understand my feelings for my wife. She is caring and passionate, and strict to reprimand me when I exert myself in a way the healer warned against. I don't know what I would do without her.

She made me a covering that I can wear on my upper body, modeled after cloth she once saw upon a Snobulac back when she was still Aos Sí. It is white and very long. Down its front are several buttons in a vertical line that hold it closed. Sleeves cover my arms to my wrists. She calls it a coat. And she complained enormously about the difficulty involved in sewing it with two hands instead of six, but she means it in jest and I find her frustration and perseverance endearing.

I imagine that covering my chest with it will take some getting used to. But, the fabric is strong and slippery, and ought to protect my soft skin from Anti-Fairy claws when I return to the lab.

Mistake Number 16

I returned downstairs to work this morning, grateful to make myself useful again after those thirteen days in bed. Falak has progressed without me, and he takes such quick and careful notes. I am grateful to have him for a partner.

After the event with the mirror, Falak and I decided to devote ourselves to each anti-fairy one by one, as opposed to placing all of them in the study room at the same time. This will introduce a new variable into our research, but there's little that can be done about it.

Today, I was in the midst of going over the Snobbish alphabet aloud when Anti-Shylinda suddenly rose to her hind legs and stayed there. Included below is an excerpt of Sunbeam's notes for the session:

Rhoswen: "'H' is the letter that begins the word 'hair'. You are Anti-Fairies, with hard s-scales on your backs that are lined with b-blue hair. We sometimes call this hair 'fur'. Fur begins with the letter 'F'."

[At this point, Subject 4 rose quite suddenly on her hind legs, without any prompting. As time passed and she did not sit down again, Rhoswen and I took notice. Sitting on the floor, his eyes were not far from her exposed reproductive parts. This appeared to cause him some embarrassment, which I imagine was further deepened by the fact that he recently became a married drake; married, in fact, to Subject 4's own Fairy counterpart.]

Rhoswen: "Um."

[Rhoswen stood, stripped off his white coat, and took two quick steps towards Subject 4. She drew back her head, but made no move with her feet to retreat, nor did she sit down.]

Rhoswen: "If you're going to stand up like that, Anti-Shylinda, we're going to have to make you, um, decent."

[Subject 4 made an obvious attempt to repeat the word "decent". She did this three times.]

Rhoswen: "That's right. Arm out. Good, and the other one."

[Rhoswen awkwardly tried to fit her wings through the holes at the rear of his coat. Finally he succeeded, and pushed the four buttons at the front through their proper holes. When this was finished, he stepped back and clasped his hands.]

Rhoswen: "Let's take a look at you."

[Subject 4 merely stared at his eyes. Though she wobbled, she appeared content to continue standing. She was shorter standing that way than both Rhoswen and myself. Rhoswen then spread his arms.]

Rhoswen: "Ah, jingles. You look perfectly fritzy in that, my darling."

[Subject 4 made another attempt to pronounce the word "decent."]

Mistake Number 17

Anti-Shylinda has proven to be the most fascinating subject on the premises; not that I expected anything less of my dear wife's counterpart. I've come across many Anti-Fairies in my life, particularly since settling in Fairy World, but never have I met one who can move their tongue to pronounce full words and speak. Let alone one who can string those sounds into sentences. She is picking up language quickly. Her speech is slow, her comments are short, but her pronunciation is improving. At this point it is still uncertain if she will ever speak the language fluently.

Regardless, I've found Anti-Shylinda to be quite intelligent, and her conversation increasingly stimulating. So far, she has changed the subject during a session to tell me when she wishes to eat, asked what my favorite food is, asked what Falak's favorite food is, requested something to drink, and asked me for my name. As I headed upstairs one night, I told her that I was on dinner duty that evening. Upon my return the following day, she asked me, "Good food was made? You make?"

Once, she even apologized unprompted when she knocked her dish to the floor and spilled her water. I don't believe either Falak or I taught her that; she merely picked it up from observing us speaking it to one another.

F. Sunbeam-

Rhoswen appears to have taken a keen interest in Subject 4. I have noticed he is far more patient with her than the others, and more enthusiastic with his praise. I have asked him privately to make the attempt to remain consistent, and he always agrees, but my advice flies out the other ear the moment he steps into the same room as her. It seems our study has met with an unexpected variable.

Mistake Number 18

Anti-Shylinda was very agitated yesterday. All the subjects were. Nothing the day before appeared out of the ordinary, and today's schedule was not altered either, and yet now that it's the fourteenth day of the month, they have simply settled down again.

Regardless, yesterday the subjects were so distressed that they were impossible to work with. Even upstairs, we could hear them howling and scratching at the basement door. There are only two damsels in the group of them, and I could recognize Anti-Shylinda's cries above them all. Worse is that she has learned enough Snobbish to voice her pleas as words. Her desperate begging tore me apart. She wailed my name more than a few times.

I spent most of the day at the bottom of the steps, speaking calmly to her through the door.

F. Sunbeam-

To my growing alarm, Rhoswen's interest in our study is waning. Last night, I caught him visiting Subject 4 after-hours to bring her a sugary treat. This is definitely an unexpected variable.

Today was filled with chaos.

Just before noon, Subject 4 underwent a dramatic change. Rhoswen was working with her while I observed as normal, when he realized that her fur was turning yellow. It was an amber of sorts, not too pale but not too orange.

This yellow started in her palms and spun its way up her arms in twisted spirals. Within five minutes, she had completely turned the color of honey. At this point, she charged towards the basement door and slammed into it with enough force to splinter the wood. We ran after her, but by the time we reached the top of the stairs, she had leaped onto the dining table and escaped through the open kitchen window.

Pursuing her by wing for two hours in a near-straight line, leaving the village of Faeheim behind in favor of the open cloudlands, we eventually caught up to her when she encountered and proceeded to mate with a blue anti-fairy whom I mistook to be wild.

Rhoswen appeared very distressed by the event and retreated a considerable distance. Probing him later, I was able to determine that he and his wife, Shylinda, had officially consummated their marriage three months ago to the day. Anti-Shylinda, then, appears to have been driven by universal forces which we do not understand to seek out the Anti-Jay.

Further details are unclear at this time, as the subject of anti-fairy courtship is not a well-researched field. However, I did take notice that Rhoswen's eyes are blue, and Shylinda's are the same golden color that her counterpart took on when the urge to mate overwhelmed her. When they had finished, she faded into blue again, leaving golden marks across Anti-Jay wherever they had touched. It was easier to tell before her gold faded, but he left blue streaks across her as well. Time will tell if such branding marks will wear off.

A fascinating event, this mating ritual. I have dubbed it "the honey-lock," after Anti-Shylinda's color and the way she zeroed so reliably upon Anti-Jay's location despite their massive distance.

Mistake Number 19

I asked Anti-Shylinda to give her perspective on the events of yesterday's honey-locking. She struggled to do so, merely citing "her need" to find my anti-self.

To questions about how she determined his location and whether it bothered her that she had never met my counterpart before, she was unresponsive. I imagine she didn't know the answers herself. However, when she did speak, she was cooperative and without shame. I respect her greatly for that.

F. Sunbeam-

Rhoswen will speak of nothing to me but how bothered he is that Anti-Shylinda and Anti-Jay, and presumably all the Anti-Fairies, are forcibly driven to mate in reflection to what their counterparts do. It took three hours to assure him that making love to his wife is only natural, and he should not have to feel weighed down by guilt in doing so.

He finally stopped speaking to me. I suspect he is not convinced. He is prone to imprinting his own values and feelings upon the Anti-Fairies, and he constantly insists on viewing the world as though through an anti-fairy's eyes. Rhoswen so values physical touch and the intimacy that goes along with it, that just the thought of making love to a stranger against his will quite disgusts him.

I don't know what to say to him.

Mistake Number 20

While Falak and I discussed the honey-lock with Anti-Shylinda, my Shylinda and Katy Sunbeam rounded up the Anti-Jay. I can't put it into words, but his very presence filled me with such waves of unease that I excused myself quickly.

Out of sheer curiosity, Falak penned Anti-Jay and Anti-Shylinda together for the afternoon, and stayed up late until his candles burned low to observe them. According to his notes, they hardly acknowledged one another's presence.

Reading this, I regret going upstairs. Anti-Shylinda had something to say about the matter; I know it. What concerns me most about the "hardly acknowledged" comment is the implication that she did not like him. I find the idea of her being locked up in close quarters with a strange drake she doesn't like most upsetting indeed.

F. Sunbeam-

Days have passed, and Rhoswen is still pestering Anti-Shylinda with endless questions about the honey-lock. He finally stopped when she stated that she finds him "Amusing."

Mistake Number 21

We took measurements some time ago, and Shylinda has finally stitched Anti-Shylinda a skirt of her own. It's soft amber, like the color she turned when she honey-locked before. She has taken to standing quite well, although it would seem she prefers flying to walking. Her legs bend in an odd way and her feet are designed for hanging from tree branches, not for supporting her weight, so that is understandable.

Between the skirt, her steadying walk, her straight back, and her gentle conversation, you can hardly tell she's an Anti-Fairy at all. She's blue, and she has lovely tall ears which protrude from her black hair and swivel when she tracks a sound. That's really the only difference between her and us.

F. Sunbeam-

Anti-Jay's and Anti-Shylinda's honey-lock activated again tonight. Rhoswen has taken some comfort in the knowledge that they have spent the past several days in one another's company, and are not as much strangers as they were before.

Mistake Number 22

I've spent many months in Anti-Shylinda's company now. She tells me of her insights, and she even invents stories and can recall them days later. She never confuses them with her actual past, and is very difficult to catch off guard with a logic puzzle or double statement. She has learned to use facial expressions to communicate. She smiles and frowns appropriately. She laughs when I tell her jokes. She tells her own jokes, and while the first ones made sense only to her, she has picked up quickly. What a fascinating creature.

F. Sunbeam-

I've recruited my wife, children, and Shylinda to help me continue educating the other Anti-Fairies in our care. "Other" excludes Anti-Shylinda, for Rhoswen's pleasure in working with her is infallible. I can hardly fault him. She progressed so rapidly, and he is so easily excited, always about enjoying life to the fullest. Working to bring the other Anti-Fairies up to Anti-Shylinda's level is far more dull than squeezing everything he can out of her while he has the chance.

I continue to take notes as we work on our project, simply to keep a record for the generations to come. All of this research should be taken lightly, replicated, and validated at a future time when researchers and subjects are more readily available.

Mistake Number 23

Shylinda, Falak, Katy, and I took Anti-Shylinda outside today to explore the town. We ended our tour with a picnic lunch on the hillside. That attracted many stares. She presented herself as though she were any other Fairy, delicately holding things in her claws and politely requesting items such as butter and a knife to spread it with. She asked for butter, and she spread it on her own!

All those "common knowledge" beliefs that Anti-Fairies are simple creatures born and bred to be guards and pets are dissolving between my fingers. I welcome it. Anti-Fairies are intelligent. In fact, I don't consider them less intelligent than Fairies at all. They've simply been trodden down in the dirt, never reinforced for speaking, and punished for expressing their own thoughts.

Anti-Shylinda is level-headed regardless of that. She offers forgiveness easily, and doesn't spite me for the mistaken beliefs of my past. She is creative. While writing with a chisel is still a bit of a struggle given her claws and flaky patience, she is always willing to talk and she treats me kindly, like a friend. She is the purest soul. The basement is not the cleanest part of the house, and bugs and spiders frequently wander in. They don't bother her. The other Anti-Fairies will chase them for food or sport, but Anti-Shylinda simply takes them in her hand and lifts them to the window. She would never hurt any creature except to put it out of its misery.

Anti-Fairies are no different from Fairies. They simply have their own ways of living- their ears, their feet… they have a sort of culture between them.

But they should not be treated as less than us. I want everyone to realize that. This is what I am a researcher for.

F. Sunbeam-

Today I confronted Rhoswen and suggested we bring our project to a close and release the Anti-Fairies. We have already replaced doors and even walls multiple times as a result of honey-lock excitement; its powers far exceed our own, on level with what the Aos Sí exercise, I should think. It simply seems impractical to keep the Antis in the basement when our research has gone so… awry. I would like to return the basement to its former use as storage space. So much junk has piled around upstairs, it's getting noticeably difficult to move. In addition, he has a baby on the way to think about now.

Rhoswen was vehemently opposed to the idea. He insists that Anti-Shylinda is the brightest Anti-Fairy in the universe, and we cannot simply turn her out like "the common variety". He is still taking constant notes where she is concerned, but has little interest in formatting them properly for a research paper, or in following the necessary proceedings to limit any variables.

He spends every spare moment of his time down there. Anti-Shylinda is all he talks about, when he's around to talk to us at all. My concern for his well-being steepens every day. I don't think his wife disagrees with me.

I am going to need to invent a strong drink.

Mistake Number 24

The mind is a beautiful thing. Anti-Shylinda has bloomed from the freshly-Split, whining animal that I first knew her as to a charming damsel capable of engaging in witty banter while perched on the end of a table with her legs crossed and a glass of juice balanced delicately between her fingertips. She is permitted to move freely about the house, and has been spending increasing amounts of time upstairs nowadays. She fetches her own rainwater from the well to wash with, and bathes behind a closed door easily and without any assistance. She eats meals with us at the table, following the conversation without any struggle and even supplying her own opinions when appropriate.

It's so beautiful to me, that such a ragged and unloved creature has turned into a sleek and shiny damsel with bright eyes and a kindly soul. She often turns to me when conversation lulls and places a soft hand on the back of my wrist. Staring into my face, she tells me, "Thank you". I simply melt into my lab coat when she does, because I am appreciated, and I have changed her life amazingly, and she truly means it when she says she is grateful. She's so delicate and gentle and endlessly supportive about all of my silly ideas.

Yes, her mind is a dangerously beautiful thing. She is a dangerously beautiful thing. This creature I am forced to dance around, forbidden by ancient laws to touch like an equal. No one else can urge me to back down when in my pride I trick myself into thinking I am right. In front of Anti-Shylinda, I am not the stubborn fighter all others have come to know me as. She makes me shy, constantly tucking my hair behind my ears and dropping my gaze to the ground, always working with my chisel just to quiet the constant longing of my hands to reach out and hold her…

I suppose I shouldn't be having these thoughts about a damsel who isn't my wife. No, perhaps not. But as long as they remain thoughts, I don't see the harm.

F. Sunbeam-

Rhoswen and Shylinda are in another shouting match upstairs. The words are unclear, but we all know what the topic of discussion is. Anti-Shylinda herself sits in her favorite chair with her legs crossed and arms folded, occasionally fidgeting with the folds of her skirts. We all pretend to continue working, connected by our shared guilt of knowing that we aren't.

I wasn't expecting to see the day when studying the life of my work partner is more fascinating to me than the original project at hand.

Mistake Number 25

Cold, dark, wet basements lit only in one corner by the stubby remains of a candle are not very pleasant places for most people. I don't like to worry about things like that. Events will happen regardless of where you are, and tender emotions conquer all.

Perhaps I really am only half an Elector, and half of me is my Guidance self. Perhaps it's not true, for law of parsimony would suggest such a theory is ridiculous, but… oh, dust, if it were true, it would make so much sense. An Elector and a Guide seeking out an Inspector who did not grow up with them like a brother…

In that instant when our lips touched, I understood all of it. I knew what it meant to Split, to be stripped of something - someone - that was always meant to belong to you. I knew that for the rest of my life, as long as I lived, I would not be content with being broken as I am.

Because in that instant, I felt whole.

Falak Sunbeam the Younger

Early Spring, 8, Year of the Swooping Bats

On the Nature of Rhoswen Syndrome

[Shylinda Coppertalon stormed up the stairs from the basement, with Jay Rhoswen tagging after her. As they reached the top, he grabbed her hand and spun her around. Neither of them appeared to notice me.]

Rhoswen: "Dear, it's not what you think. I badly s-startled [Anti-Shylinda] and she went to bite me, so I had to intercept."

Coppertalon: "With your mouth, I see."

[Rhoswen released her and yanked instead at the lapels of his coat. He squared his shoulders.]

Rhoswen: "My hands were busy."

Coppertalon: "Believe me, I saw. You were feeling her up."

[Rhoswen took Coppertalon's forearms and pushed her against the stairway wall.]

Rhoswen: "I was holding her back, dear. Her teeth could have sunk into my throat any second I stopped."

[Coppertalon wrenched herself from his grip and made the attempt to climb the last stair. Rhoswen fixed her in place by her shoulders instead.]

Coppertalon: "I hate you."

[Rhoswen's tone softened. He began to press kisses along her neck.]

Rhoswen: "You don't hate me. I love you, Shylinda dear."

[Coppertalon squirmed against Rhoswen's grip.]

Coppertalon: "You're a disgusting, vile creep."

[Rhoswen stopped kissing her neck and briefly kissed her lips.]

Rhoswen: "Maybe so, but th-that's why you adore me. What was it you said when we were courting? 'Who would want to procreate with me in this lowly state?' Yes. And what did I say in response t-to that?"

Coppertalon: "'I would'…"

Rhoswen: "Mmhm. I love you."

Coppertalon: "Get off me, you serpent."

[Coppertalon succeeded in shoving him off. She climbed the last step and grabbed her wand from the kitchen table. She brandished its star-capped end in Rhoswen's direction. Rhoswen folded his wings with a rustle and stayed quietly on the stairs, his palms flat against his chest.]

Coppertalon: "I know what I saw down there, Jay. Consider the two of us split. I don't want you touching me again."

Rhoswen: "You're the one who wanted this baby, and now you're leaving me?"

[Coppertalon hesitated]

Coppertalon: "I mean it. I'm leaving. You disgust me."

Rhoswen: "Don't be ridiculous. You'll be on the streets without me. The whole village knows you're mine, and no one will marry another drake's damsel."

Coppertalon: "I don't need to be married to send your precious Anti-Shylinda off honey-locking to the far side of the cloudlands."

Rhoswen: "Don't you dare, woman. She doesn't want that."

[Coppertalon stepped closer to the stairs, still holding out the wand.]

Coppertalon: "She wants you?"

Rhoswen: "She might."

Coppertalon: "She's an Anti-Fairy."

Rhoswen: "She's a person."

Coppertalon: "I'm a person!"

[Pause]

Coppertalon: "Jay, you're two months pregnant. Who gave you that baby?"

Rhoswen: "You did, Shylinda- don't be absurd."

Coppertalon: "If you were to swear it on your dust, are you sure?"

Rhoswen: "Anti-Shylinda couldn't impregnate me if she wanted to. Fairy and Anti-Fairy reproductive parts don't match up."

Coppertalon: "The truth comes out."

Rhoswen: "Shylinda, I didn't mean it like that!"

[Pause]

Rhoswen: "Please give us some p-privacy, Falak. I know you're watching."

Mistake Number 26

Oh, dust.

I shouldn't have kissed Anti-Shylinda. Even though thoughts of her haunt my mind on a frequent basis, it's easier not to want her when she's downstairs and I'm up here. It's when we're in the same room that I am pulled towards her. Or am I only telling myself that in the foolish vein of hope that if I believe it hard enough, it will come true? That my wanting for her will disappear? I want her as I've never wanted any creature before.

I've tossed and turned for hours, or minutes, but either way it feels like weeks. It could be the baby keeping me up, but I don't think it is. A deep, heavy hole has settled in my chest. Scratching with my fingernails only turns my pale skin red, and does nothing to quell the emptiness inside.

It's so difficult to keep living, pretending that I'm not broken. I haven't lost something as simple as a wing. No, that would be easy to bounce back from. If I lost both wings, both arms, both my legs, and my tongue, and was left to live out my days silent and unmoving, that would be easy to bounce back from.

I lost something I wasn't supposed to lose, long before I was born. Our people were never meant to Split into Sluagh. All the buildings, all the languages, all the art and clothing and creativity… we each pour our soul into those things, into that desire to always move forward, because we are afraid to look back. We don't want to remember. Our minds force us not to remember.

Drive away your counterparts. The Guides are brilliant enough to flee the first chance they get. Drive away your counterparts. We all know what good fun it is to kill our own anti-selves and watch them reform from smoke, never truly hurt or holding a grudge. We don't even question why we are drawn to kill them. Why we are DRAWN to them. 'Drawn to kill'; what a joke, Finella. Yes, the Finella reflex will go down in history under that name, Electors drawn to murder their Inspectors, without any regard for the phenomenon's origin.

Because we are afraid to look closer. We are afraid to examine this emotion that we so vehemently call hate. Yes, we say the Anti-Fairies are bad luck, but did we ever have any proof of that? We fence them in our backyards with hordes of good-luck charms, but what magnet has ever been repelled by its opposite?

Drive away the Anti-Fairies. For the sake of your sanity, drive them off. Don't let them too close, and for dust's sake don't love one of them, or you'll remember what you've lost, what you were never given, what you were promised at birth and then denied. A single Anti-Fairy kiss upon Fairy skin is a beautiful drug authorized only by the cruelest mistress. It's indescribably perfect, that feeling of being complete and whole, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody. Dear King Nuada, I pray it's because of my feathered wings that I am affected as I am, that my father Split wrong, that I was born Elector and Guide together with only one of my three puzzle pieces out of place, because just the thought of anyone else reacting to the emptiness as strongly as I do sickens me to my core.

Shylinda, I'm so sorry. If you're reading these tablets, it's too late.

I love you, dear. But I hate to see you mad, and I know that what I'm about to do will make you furious. My life is a journey and it leads where it will. I need to feel complete again- I want this, I want this so badly, just one night. I can't push against it anymore. That was then. This is now.

One night, darling. Just give me one night. I'll only want her this one night, and that will be enough. I'll quit, I swear. Terminate the project. Release the Anti-Fairies. I'll kiss the clouds you float above for as long as I live, but by Claímh Solais, I have got to have this one night. I need to know wholeness again.

I have labeled this tablet Mistake Number 26. The next will be Mistake Number 31. I'm counting tonight as five.

F. Sunbeam-

Anti-Shylinda's eyes turned from dull red to honey-amber overnight. She hunkers in one of the dusty corners of the basement, clutching a knife in her hand, just shivering. She will not speak to me.

Rhoswen and Anti-Jay are nowhere to be found.