A/N - This chapter parallels the Origin of the Pixies chapter "Allowances"

(Posted October 30, 2018)

Frost Bite

In which Julius wraps up his schooling at Frederick Shinesworth in the Year of the Tall Cedar, and begins plotting out his next course of action

Frederick Shinesworth campus stayed eerily deserted throughout the second month of the Autumn of the Tall Cedar. The communal washrooms were never busy. Distracted teachers ended classes by as early as half an hour almost every day. In fact, Noon and I met up at the local cider shop to work on our group presentation for Recent History with an imp dame named Shelli Marmot, and we practically had the entire place for ourselves. Only one lone fairy lingered on a bar stool far from our booth. While Noon lay out the craft supplies for our poster board, I clutched my warm mug against my chest and gazed through the shop's front window. Every passing smudge shuffled by quickly, never speaking to anyone where some stranger might overhear. Mostly they were damsels, I think. I took another long sip of cider.

"Hmm. No matter which way the Blue Robe falls, tomorrow is certainly going to be interesting up here, you know what I mean?"

Shelli bit into her spiral pastry. "Why, what's tomorrow?"

Noon and I glanced at her in shock. He set his ink bottle down, clearing his throat. "The Fairy Council votes on Waterberry v. Reddinski this afternoon."

Embarrassed recognition crossed her face. "Oh," she mumbled. Her antennae curled inward. "That's the follow-up to the Canterbury case, right? I really don't know much about it. It doesn't really affect me."

At that, I arched my brows. "It affects everyone. Canterbury v. Oakwing allowed the status of drones to be kept confidential in legal papers, and from the ears of other gynes. Before Canterbury, all drones were required to dress entirely in brown, and wear a band around their right wrist that matched one worn by the gyne they 'belonged' to. Do you know Eurydice Flitterglitter's most famous painting, Genie Lost In the Marketplace? It critiques the norms of Fairy society by comparing the physical imprisonment of genies to the social imprisonment of drones."

"Does it?" she mumbled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I wrote a paper on it once. Anyway, Canterbury v. Oakwing was merely a very necessary stepping stone in the process to get us where we are today. Waterberry v. Reddinski will completely end legal discrimination against drones and allow them the chance to speak openly in public for the first time since written history began. No longer will they be required to avoid eye contact with those more dominant than they are. Not to mention, this is the first time since Shamaiin was elected to the Council that he and Mortikor have agreed on anything, so that's news in itself. Jameswin and Tyrano are voting against, of course. No one knows what Cattahan will decide to do."

Shelli twisted her mug back and forth on the table. "Do you really believe drones have been mistreated all this time?"

"I support Waterberry," I said, scratching my quill across my parchment. The lantern between us flickered as though in agreement. "It's wrong to expect drones to comply with the societal pressures that have weighed on them all this time. Drones can't even marry, Shelli. Not legally, in the eyes of the Eros Family. Think on that. They're forbidden to hold eye contact, they can't marry, and they can't hold any jobs unless they're directly assisting a supervising gyne. Smoke, I wish I could be there tonight when Anti-Willow interviews that Cosmo Waterberry fellow. If we weren't discussing Ilisa Maddington in Dm. Gillfire's class at that same time, I'd poof over in a wingbeat. I do so love Anti-Willow… I bought a ticket for it and everything, but, well. You know me. I never can turn down the chance to hear about Ilisa's legacy." I shrugged my wings and took another sip of cider. "The instant that transcript is shared with the Luna's Landing library, I'll be the first to give it a read, believe you me."

Brief silence lapsed over the table.

"Can I ask you both something?" Shelli murmured. Her fingers tightened around her mug. "We Fairies hear lots of… rumours… about the Purple Robe and his relationship with the High Count. Is that why… Do you know if…?"

"Of course not! Why, I am offended!" I slammed my palm down on the table, the force of it blowing Noon's careful stack of parchment slips over the edge. "Shamaiin's values are concrete, and he sticks by them. He always votes according to what's best for society as a whole, no matter how many high-class feathers it ruffles along the way. Anti-Bryndin's friendship could never change his devotion to-"

"Julius," Noon said, touching his knee to mine. My hackles prickled. I turned away with a huff and slumped against the table, arms folded, glaring through the window to the street outside. He pushed his knee harder in warning until I flattened my ears and fell silent. To Shelli, he said, "Anti-Bryndin and Shamaiin have been close friends for thousands of years. Whether or not they allow that relationship to affect their politics is their business, and no one else's."

Shelli squirmed. "I heard they… they… Um. Intimately touched?"

"That's a common misunderstanding." Noon passed her the adhesives for our poster board. "Of course, definitions of 'intimate' vary by the individual."

"Anti-Bryndin has a… jewel on his tongue. He asked the Purple Robe to pick one out for him to wear, at a festival or shop, to prove to everyone they touched…"

"Ohh," I realised, sitting up. "You're thinking of when Anti-Bryndin took Shamaiin's favour. Yes, of course, we all know they share strokes regularly, but that's hardly intimate, you know what I mean? Everyone does it, especially when nobles are involved. It doesn't spread the iris virus, you know."

"Share strokes?"

"Tongue strokes. You know, casual licks down below, very similar to the licks exchanged between gynes and drones on faces and necks. That's all, darling. Anti-Bryndin's and Shamaiin's relationship is merely friendly, I assure you."

Shelli's face turned a literal red tint, her antennae snapping upright, but she didn't say a word for the rest of our project. Back at our dorm, Noon and I shared a soft laugh regarding her embarrassment; typical fairy. Then he settled down at roost while I left to take a shower.

In Fairy World, water ran indoors through a system of pumps and pipes. That was always my favourite part of attending Frederick Shinesworth. Not that my art classes weren't riveting. They were. They were, I assure you. But the fact is, words struggle to capture the wonder of stepping behind a tiny curtain onto soft linoleum tiles, turning a knob, and drawing water from thin air as though by magic. Magic I hadn't even had to study years on end to master, ahaha! Why, I could leave my wand in my bedroom, and still enjoy a fresh, warm start to my day- no risk of dropping it, losing it, or shorting it out. This was the world we lived in now.

I always made time in my day to bask in the delight of 'showering,' even now that finals year had swept across our dorm. Far too many of my fellow drakes, I'd found, made the choice of skipping hygiene hour in exchange for catching up on their sleep, which always had to be pushed off due to board game night and rambunctious tussling parties the night before. Do recall that 90 and 9% of my peers were Fairies just breaking into puberty, and their overactive sweat glands combined with leftover food, filthy dishes, and unswept floors did not a sweet-smelling environment make. Thank Tarrow for the cold weather on campus, or it should have been even worse. Still, for the sake of your stomachs, I shall not attempt to describe the constant reek. Perhaps it won't surprise you to hear that if ever I sought out fellows to study for exams with, I always favoured groups of damsels. Not that I really needed study groups more than once or twice in some of my more technology-heavy classes, as I am always the smartest person in the room. My infallible memory is practically a curse.

This particular day, however, something rather… unsettling occurred in my assigned communal washroom. I was just stepping from my shower stall in my damp and sticky clothes, trying to juggle my shower caddy, wring out my hair, and keep track of how much fur I was shedding all at the same time, when an unfamiliar voice across the room shouted, "Rain, stop! I don't want to!"

The energy field jolted with the sound of clattering wood blocks and racing hooves. My ears flicked instantly to attention. No matter how distracted by their own tasks they may be, the truth is, an anti-fairy will always be drawn to emotions of discontent. We are colony-oriented creatures, after all. I turned, blinking droplets from my eyes, and spotted two drakes hovering by the tall mirror. The larger one was gangly, tall, and freckled, with a rumpled orange shirt and an upward swirl of lime green hair sweeping from his head. The shorter drake, blue-haired, had him pinned against the wall, his tongue rasping across the freckled drake's neck.

Huh?

Wait. That couldn't be right. That didn't make sense. It was supposed to be abusive gynes who forced themselves on innocent drones, not the other way around.

… Right?

I shook my confusion away and flew across the washroom with my shower caddy still in hand. Whatever their relationship status was, it was obvious the green-haired drake was upset, and the blue-haired one was pushing him past his comfort level. Someone had to step in. I would be that someone. Today, I would not sit idly back like I had when Anti-Wanda crashed on the ice. Not again.

"Let him alone," I called, pulling up beside them. I clamped the drone's upper arm with my hand. "He needs his space. Come now, old sport- can't you see he doesn't want all that?"

Rain ignored me, still licking the green-haired drake's throat while the gyne whimpered uncertainly. I wondered why he didn't simply poof out of reach, then decided not to judge. Surely he had his reasons, and it wasn't any of my business. Fear could be a paralysing flower.

All right, fine. Perhaps I could communicate with Rain in a language he might understand more easily. I grabbed one of the three bottles of prescription pheromones from my shower caddy and twisted off the lid. This, I held out to Rain.

"Here. You can have these."

"Oh," he said, reeling back his head. He gave himself a shake and quickly lost interest in the gyne. I suddenly doubted his self-restraint, but nonetheless passed over the entire bottle. Rain sniffed at it curiously, then poured a heavy pool of liquid into his palm. It dribbled through his fingers. When he brought the goop to his face, his eyes closed, shoulders relaxing. "Mature pheromones…"

He buzzed off with a bemused hum. Hopefully that would keep him distracted for a while. I exhaled in relief. Dusting off my hands, I turned my attention on the taller drake. "There now. Are you all right?"

The skinny drake gaped down at me, apparently stunned into silence. His fists moved to cover his mouth. I gave him a curious look. Behind his hands, his entire face had physically turned deep pink. "I have a type," he finally managed to stammer out, dropping one hand to clench the zipper on his shirt. He lifted one of his legs behind him, pressing his foot against the wall.

I tilted my head, squinting up through my monocle. "Oh dear, look how flushed you are. I'm glad I had the good fortune of being here to step in during your time of need, hm?"

Still gaping at me, still not blinking, the gyne bobbed his head. "I, uh… I'm Mickey. Mickey Peridot."

"Julius Anti-Lunifly," I said, fluffing the back of my hair. I made a face as wet tufts squelched between my fingers. "Charmed to make your acquaintance. I must say, it isn't often one spies a gyne backed against the wall."

"Heh heh," he said, sliding his hand behind his neck. "Nah, Rain's a good guy. It's just that I'm still a little young to actually sweat… I mean, secrete oil… Smoof, that sounds gross. I, uh, I mean, to produce pheromones. He's just a little, uhh… So, um, why do you keep donor pheromones on hand anyway? You're an Anti-Fairy."

I shrugged and held out my shower caddy so he could see the assorted sanitary products stuffed between the soap bottles. "I try to make an effort to support my friends, so I always carry these sorts of things with me wherever I go. I'm a rather anxious person myself, and I wouldn't wish that awkwardness on anyone. By the way, I do love your hair ever so much."

Mickey clapped a hand over his mouth, his freckles disappearing as his pinkness deepened into red. "Th-thank you."

"You know, I've been thinking I might dye mine that colour, actually." I tapped my chin with one claw. "Bright hair isn't exactly the norm in Anti-Fairy society - we're all blacks, blues, silvers, and sunsets, you know - so I could never actually go through with it… But I've always wanted to. I like green."

"Me too," he said, his eyes the size of moons. "You should definitely go for it if it's something you want."

I cocked my head. "You really think so?"

"Oh, yeah. Be confident in yourself, you know? I mean, dear dust… Not that you need any help in that area right now, haha… I'm sorry. Is your wing all right?"

"I limp on my right side. Always have, even when I was but a pup. I manage myself quite fine, however; don't worry about me."

"Oh. That's good." Mickey glanced at the ceiling and bit deeply into his lip. "Um. I don't know if this is too much too fast, but have you already made plans to hear the Waterberry ruling tonight? Some friends and I were thinking we might do something, and you're welcome to join us, if you like."

As I wrung stubborn droplets from my hair, I frowned at my reflection in the tall mirror. "Hm. Well. There's a lecture about Ilisa Maddington going on this afternoon in the north building… and of course, we're all awaiting the news on the Waterberry ruling. After that information comes to light, I plan to retire to my room for the evening and page through the notes I've been composing about my family tree. I'm struggling to determine who I may have reincarnated from, and I really do believe I'm making progress with my research about this Anti-Marcie Anti-Cooperstein."

Mickey flung his arms forward. "Haha, no way! What are the odds? Me too!"

"What?"

"Not the Anti-Marcie thing," he corrected himself, combing his fingers through his hair with the speed of leaping fish. "I meant the Ilisa lecture. I'm planning to attend that too."

I smiled, my wings lifting. I switched my shower caddy to my other hand. "Are you really? Ooh, splendid! I haven't met many Fairies who find her life story as fascinating of a cocktail party topic as I do, you know what I mean? I'm interested in Fairykind reproduction. What are you majorly studying up here?"

"The Geology of Solid Planets," he gushed, kicking up his heels.

"Ah… Erm, what precisely does geology have to do with Ilisa Maddington?"

Mickey blinked, then pedalled backward. "Oh, you know… Ilisa died in the Soil Temple collapse, and I have a thing for caves. Yeah. That's it."

"To each his own," I said with a laugh. I hiked up my caddy. "Very well. I'll see you tonight, then. If you should perchance arrive before I do, save me a seat, hm? Preferably in the front row."

He did, which was terribly nice of him, especially considering how many of our peers would have longed to deny an anti-fairy entrance to their lecture in the first place.

That evening, the five of us (plus Mickey, who apparently knew my roommate Teddy from their small town home of Lau Rell) crowded around the one window in our apartment that faced Frederick Shinesworth's central bell tower. All over campus, other eyes were fixated on that same point. Many couples were picnicking on the quad tonight, or others on the roofs of their dorms. By nature of Fairy social structure, the school principal would hear the verdict of Waterberry v. Reddinski before any of the rest of us did. She and the other school administrators had agreed to use their wands to light the sky above so all of campus might learn it at the same moment. If the firework they shot up was blue, then Cattahan had cast his vote in Waterberry's favour, and drones would now and forever hold the same legal social status as kabouters, effective immediately. If the firework was red, then… well…

I gripped Mickey's wrist. "You know," I told him softly, gazing up into his scarlet eyes, "besides Jack Waterberry himself, there aren't many gynes who support the vote. I think it's wonderful that there are some who do."

"Drone rights have always been important to me," Mickey insisted, jutting out his chin. "If I have the right to use safe words and deny a drone mid-preen, then a drone should have the same right to deny a gyne."

I gave his hand a squeeze. "I agree with that."

"There it goes," Noon suddenly said, pricking his ears. We all leaned over each other, practically dangling out our window, desperate to see what colour would shatter the sky above-

Blue.

Successive fireworks burst around the first one- Blue, blue, blue. As the bells doled out the news and screams filled the air, we all laughed, cried, and hugged one another fiercely. Together, we grabbed our snacks and joined our fellows racing through the halls, cheering at the tops of our voices. Everyone had their wands, and went about hurling blue sparkles in all directions. Oh, now that was the kind of historic occasion I couldn't wait to brag to my pups about!

… You know. Assuming I ever had pups of my own someday.

The following morning, still bundled together up at roost, Noon yawned and tucked his chin against the top of my head. His arms shifted beneath my wings. "Mm… In all the chaos, did you hear Kato's moving out tomorrow? We're getting a new roommate."

I cracked open my eyelids unhappily and glared into his chest fur. He didn't have to explain what he meant, and I didn't have to ask. A new roommate meant an awkward next few weeks. It meant explanations and stunned sideways glances. It meant no longer being safe.

Sure enough, only three days after our roommate had settled in, Noon and I found ourselves seated on the battered dorm sofa, each of us balancing a mug of milk in our hands, as we formally explained the ground rules to the fidgety satyr sitting across from us. Freddy, his name was. Terribly similar name to our other roommate Teddy, but that wasn't my fault.

"Anti-Fairies sleep in colonies," Noon told him patiently, doing a much better job at keeping his temper than I would in his position. He kept one hand wrapped around my knee. "Every single day, Anti-Fairies all across the cloudlands practice what we know as 'bundling.' That's what we call it when two or more Anti-Fairies cluster tightly together and wrap their wings around one another for warmth. Julius and I sleep like this every night. We often bundle during the day too when we take a moment to rest. Our bundling custom is entirely non-romantic, and I hope the sight of us doesn't cause you any embarrassment."

"So you aren't courting," Freddy clarified, sounding unsure. His fingers plucked at the collar of fluff around his neck.

"We're just roommates, just as we are with you," Noon said simply. "You Fairies have beds and blankets to stay warm. We have roosts and bundling."

"Believe me," I added, rolling my eyes, "I once went a month where I slept alone without ever bundling. Never, ever do that in the freezing temperatures of Anti-Fairy World. My legs were stricken with frostbite that all too soon turned to gangrene. I had to be taken to the Breath Temple before they could heal. Whether you like it or not, Noon and I will be bundling together. It's literally why I was assigned to be his roommate in the first place. Yes, it is a cuddle, and yes, you Fairies may be taught to interpret it as a deeper connection than it is, but the truth is, your opinion doesn't really matter to us."

Noon nudged my ankle with his foot and tightened his claws against my thigh. "The fact is, you could pick any two Anti-Fairies in the universe and lock them in the same room, and by nature, they would gravitate to roost together. Holding one another in our sleep is just instinctive."

"It's true. Why, I can hardly stand a few of my nastier colonymates back home, but there isn't a single one I wouldn't bundle with if they were my only option. We might spit fiery insults at each other one moment, and cuddle each other close the next. It's perfectly natural."

Freddy nodded and balanced his cup on one knee.

Despite our first-day conversation, I could sense that our close proximity bothered him on a constant basis. I often saw that twitchy satyr jump when he first entered a room and noticed Noon and I resting quietly from one corner of the ceiling, me clinging sleepily to his chest and Noon with his arms wrapped beneath my wings. The fact that we ensured we were always dressed didn't seem to make any difference in his mind.

It's curious. For some strange reason, despite the fact that my people regularly scatter bad luck throughout the universe, or that we regularly preach the reality of reincarnation over the Daoist tradition of Splitting from a single form, the most difficult part of our culture for Fairies to swallow, infallibly, is the sociosexual aspect. It could be something as simple as a press of the lower bodies, clothing on and everything, but from the way the Fairies react, you'd think we'd been caught mid-murder. Once, I accidentally spilled a bottle of Noon's most expensive vanilla extract. His mouth fell open in despair. Oops! I hurtled across the kitchen in my scramble to apologise, flattening him to the front door and whimpering into his chest. He shoved me off in clear irritation, so I sighed and lifted the hem of his shirt. Freddy, Teddy, and Rander were all in the room at the time, and all flipped their crowns when I put out my tongue. It was two awkward minutes before they finally excused themselves and locked the door behind them. Please! Oh, I'm certain everyone who knew us gossiped constantly, but they never spoke a judgemental word within our earshot. Hmph. I was grateful for that, at least.

"You don't see me taunting drones for cuddling up to gynes," I muttered to Noon once, glaring at my reflection as I picked my bristlebrush between my fangs. "Come now, you can't really believe there aren't sexual undertones we could poke fun at in their culture. Smoke, some of these gents wouldn't last a day over the border. Honestly, why the fuss? A thousand animal cultures are sociosexual. Boudacian culture is sociosexual. Succubus culture is sociosexual. Will o' the wisp culture is sociosexual in its own way, and believe me, I know. For smoke's sake, we're bats. What does he expect of us? Monogamy?"

Noon shook his head and poked at one of the pimples breaking through the fur on his cheek. "Some people would just prefer not to hear the details."

"It's our culture, and I won't censor it!"

"Fairy values are just… different than ours." Noon tilted back his head and let out a soft sigh. "We're a polygynandrous people. We are. It's ingrained in our natures; just ask the Eros family. But remember, the Fairies have a right to their own culture too, so you can't really blame them for being startled. Personally, I think they get so lost in admiring our art and architecture that sometimes, they forget we were never designed to be their role models."

"That's precisely my point. We're not Fairies! My life is not a story about a Fairy!" In my pettiness, I kicked the cloudstone wall below the communal sinks. "And I wouldn't choose to be a Fairy even if I'd been given the option. I just despise the way they have to judge us for a culture and biological instincts that are beyond our control to change, you know what I mean? And- and-" Finally, I hurled down my bristlebrush and threw my arms in the air. "Bloody smoke, I don't know. Should I just tell him Anti-Fairy reproductive parts don't fit together the way he automatically assumes they do? Would he like me to draw him out a picture proving how physically impossible that would be for us? Will that finally soothe his anxieties when he strolls in and finds us sleeping together at roost?"

Noon shook his head without replying and left me alone to fume. I did, until Freddy entered the washroom a few moments later. Oh, wait until you see what actual Anti-Fairy courtship looks like, I thought snidely in his direction, and stalked off. Now that would give him butterflies.

Just as I was about to leave, I realised that Noon had forgotten his latest hardcover novel on the edge of the counter. I grabbed it and glanced over the cover as I used my elbow to open the washroom door.

"Hmm… What does he even read, anyhow?"

Out of curiosity, I flipped the book open somewhere in the middle, just before his bookmark. My eyes had only skimmed down the first two paragraphs before I felt the cool, rosy blush sinking into my cheeks. My wingbeats slowed. The door banged shut behind me. "O-oh. He reads Kalysta Ivorie. That charming old rascal, hm?"

The, erm… the content of that collection did not befit a gentledrake such as myself. I'd read the details of reproduction before, of course, but never like this. I'd blanketed myself in the technical world from the time I was eight years old, but floating there and staring down at Noon's open novel in my hands… Well, um… I almost don't dare confess, but this was better than research papers, somehow. You know, having emotions to match to the process, even if this was a romance about Fairies. The parts of their respective reproductive systems remained just outside my understanding, and a few of the kissing techniques were utterly impossible to picture in my head with the pair in the position that they were, but I knew enough to follow along.

I'll readily admit that I was curious. I read the entire scene three times on my way down the corridor, just to absolutely confirm it was intended to be taken as affectionate rather than sociosexual. It was. I leafed several pages farther back, my chest swollen with the sudden need to discover precisely what had brought the pair together in the first place. Why, imagine my surprise when I learned they had only met that night, on the front steps of a Fairy World sugar bar before they'd so much as batted a wing inside! They chatted so long that the bar closed up, and with faint amusement, the drake agreed to spend the night in this stranger's home instead of flying home to face the brother who had sent him out for sodas.

And those two sang together with that level of passion? In a Soil year, too?

… Oh.

I mean, I really don't intend any offence or anything. Despite my annoyance at snooty Fairies, I'm accepting of all lifestyles and romantic pursuits, you know what I mean? If a couple wish to pair the night they meet, then that's entirely their business, and I don't consider it my place to judge. It's just that I myself… Um, I'm not sure I could hand my most private, trusted self to anyone I hadn't truly loved for a thousand years, at least. Not in a passionate way. It would just be so uncomfortable… the awkwardness would just fluster me to my roots… I mean, it just… Doesn't it feel a little…?

Oh gods, that sounds stupid, doesn't it? I don't know. Blimey, just look at me. A few millennia shy of 150,000 years, and still blabbing on about 'true love' and exclusive commitment as though the honey-lock won't tear his world of innocence apart one of these nasty days. Pathetic, really.

Well. I suppose it might be entertaining to pleasure a gorgeous lover during the Seven Festivals if we'd hit it off early on in the celebrations and I knew they were enjoying my affections, because that could turn out to be a thrill just for the delightful atmosphere, but I simply don't think that constant flitting-about lifestyle is for me, is all I'm trying to say. No offence, really. I only mean… it's just not for me. Not long-term. Yes, perhaps I might allow my friends to coax me into a bit of rowdy fun one of these days when we're older and I happen to be feeling particularly bored, but in the end, I'm really just a person who values the emotional bond that comes hand in hand with commitment, you know what I mean?

I'm not making any sense.

But Mickey understood my sentiment. He confessed to me in private once that he rather liked commitment, and we had an entire conversation over lunch about his drone roommate, Rain. "He's not really into the whole relationship thing," Mickey explained to me, tilting back his head. "He only spends time with me when he wants something. I need a friend who spends time with me, and makes plans with me. Like this, you know? Like you do."

"I can understand that," I murmured, trying to balance the vegetables on my fork without using my spoon to push them on.

And that, damsels and gentledrakes, is how I somehow or other ended up having a one-morning preen with a gyne.

It started with a study session at the library that was supposed to last an hour, but in the end ran into three. With my sharp memory, I thought it was all rather pointless, but Mickey assured me he valued every moment. A fourth hour passed as Mickey shyly showed me a small red orb capable of projecting music loud enough to fill an entire room.

"You invented this?" I asked, cradling the orb against my cheek.

"Sort of. Music isn't new, but it's always belonged to the experts. I invented a portable device even a commoner like me can figure out."

"Good show, Mickey! Well done, I say."

He waved a modest hand, glancing at the ceiling with a smile.

When it was finally getting late, I gathered my scrolls together and said, "Mick, I have a question I'd like to run by you."

"Sure," he said, lifting his bag from his chair.

I unwrapped a tying ribbon from around my hand and reached for my last papers. "As you may recall me mentioning once before, I'm afflicted with divus displacement disorder on an everyday basis. Painting gyne pheromones across my face reduces my extreme mood swings, or so I've been told. I've used donor pheromones in the past, but is there any chance you might be interested in direct preening with me? Or if you aren't, do you think you could nudge me in the direction of a gyne who is?"

A satchel hit the floor with a thud. I blinked. Hugging my scrolls to my chest, I turned to find Mickey standing behind his chair, his fingers clutching nothing. His wings trembled. His scarlet eyes locked with mine, but only for an instant; he broke the link by glancing away, and reached back to rub the base of his neck. "Oh," he said. "Oh, wow."

"It's fine if you don't want to," I assured him hurriedly, clutching my scrolls tighter. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. Please, think it over and get back to me later, when you've had some time alone."

"I want to," he blurted, breaking into a sudden giggle. "I just- Y-yeah. Yeah, sure. I'd love to preen with you. I… wow. I, um… That would be great. I totally produce pheromones now. I, uh, didn't want to ask, so… I'm glad you did. I want to."

"Ta! Are you free this weekend, perchance?"

"Um…" Mickey bit his lip, his attention flicking up to the ceiling. He squirmed one of his feet in the air. Hint by hint, he sank down into his chair again. "Gee, this is awkward. I'm so sorry. I'm actually pretty booked on Thursday, but Friday morning would be great. Would that work for you? We can try next week, if that doesn't work."

Friday morning was my personal reading time, but since I wasn't taking any Friday classes this year anyway, I figured I could make an exception. "I can pick up breakfast on my way over," I offered. "Possibly something sweet. Do you have a preference?"

Mickey giggled again, combing his fingers through his hair. "No, no, just… surprise me."

Holding my scrolls to my chest with just one arm, I braced my other hand against the table and leaned so close to him, our noses nearly touched. "Look here, darling. If I surprise you, you're getting sesame seed bagels. Are sesame seed bagels okay?"

Mickey's face pinkened, clashing horribly with his orange shirt, but in a ridiculously cute sort of way. His shaky grin broke into a genuine one. "Y-you're good at the whole 'enthusiastic consent' thing," he squeaked. One hand moved up to cover his mouth. "I like the protein shakes from- uh… from…"

"From…?"

His eyes darted away. "F-from that café by the library. Yeah."

"Bagels for me, shake for you," I promised. Mickey ducked his head, tugging on his zipper. He blushed up a storm without ever losing his smile. I smiled too and adjusted my scrolls again. This was fun. Some days, playful flirtations just came so naturally to me. Not that this was technically a romantic get-together, I suppose, if the rubbish Fairy propaganda was to be believed (I never did buy into their platonic fantasies, you know). Yes, this was fun. I couldn't wait to tell Anti-Kanin and Mona all about it.

Friday morning found me outside Mickey's dorm, my warm bagels neatly wrapped and his protein shake in a soft cup. I tapped on the door carefully. Mickey answered it, dressed in a white button-up shirt that fit him too loosely and soft, striped blue trousers that looked better suited for sleeping in than impressing a date. I chuckled inwardly as I appraised him. Not all stereotypes are false, and casual Fairy attitudes regarding pyjamas in public was certainly one that wasn't. His mouth dropped open.

"Oh."

The toes on one of my feet clamped over the other. I forced a straining smile. "Yes, yes, I know. Surprise. I wasn't sure exactly what you were expecting, so I went ahead and trimmed all my facial fur back to the scales. My understanding is that your tongue will be on my face today, and an old drone once warned me Fairy tongues collect hairballs. I thought it polite to spare you that awkwardness at this tender stage of our relationship, ahaha."

Mickey pressed the tips of his forefingers to his lips. His eyes darted up and down my face. "Was that hard?"

"No, not particularly. There are shaving creams one can buy. Full facial trims aren't too common of a practice in Anti-Fairy World at this time, but it isn't rare either. I figured it out." Rolling my eyes, I added, "'Fashion' in Anti-Fairy World ebbs and flows at the whims of the more popular Anti-Fairy damsels. There will come a day within our lifetimes when shaving faces will be all the rage, believe you me."

"How long did that take you?"

"Oh, I managed it all this morning."

Mickey gave me a doubtful glance. I almost quailed and confessed the truth - that I had passed two evenings struggling to make myself presentable - but I didn't. Instead I said, "I brought breakfast," and held out the protein shake and bag of bagels.

"Thanks," Mickey said, his tight shoulders relaxing. I passed him the shake, and he popped off the plastic lid. Nodding, he wedged his foot against the base of the door. "Come in, yeah! Good to see you. You look great."

"Do I really?" I asked absently. I felt overdressed, having forsaken my usual black shirt for the blue coat with all the inside pockets that I wore when I was out working with umbrae. Although I realised now that all my gadgets were still stuffed inside… I could feel my slingshot digging into my hip.

Mickey probably nodded in reply, but I was too busy skimming my eyes across his dorm to notice for sure. Apart from the fact that everything here was mirrored on the opposite side from what I was used to, his place didn't look much different than mine. Same high ceilings, same close walls, same icebox, same sofa. The place was clean, and smelled faintly of fruit. A platter of grapes, cheese, and crackers had been set out on a small table. The light level was low. Candles. Quaint. I liked it. Mickey shut the door with his shoulder and floated up beside me.

"So, uh… you've never preened before, have you?"

A flash of panic shot through my veins. Was that a bad thing? Did he want a partner who already had experience? If I confirmed it, would he change his mind and force me out? I fought to keep my voice from rising as I said, "Whatever gave you that impression?"

He coughed into his fist. "You, um… didn't bring a water flask."

I glanced down at the satchel on my hip, even though I knew he was right. "Oh," I said, for lack of anything else to say. The fur prickled on the back of my neck. Oh, wonderful. I'd only been inside for two seconds, and I was already ruining everything.

"It's okay," he told me gently, and smiled. "If you get dehydrated, let me know and we can break for a few minutes. We'll take it slow. Just let me know up front what you don't want to do today."

Darling, if we were older, I doubt I'd hesitate to strip you bare and kiss your stomach slit up and down, I thought absently, but didn't say so. This was Mickey's culture, his ceremony, his dance, and I would let him take the lead. That was his right, whether he'd been born in a Love year or not. I fiddled with my satchel strap, then lifted it over my head and hung it on the door handle. I set the bagels beside the cheese and crackers. "Oh, my boundaries are flexible. Really, I'm one of those adventurous souls who delights in being surprised, so as far as you're concerned this morning, I'm yours. If you do manage to startle me in some way I'm not comfortable with, then I'll certainly let you know with haste. But, I highly doubt that will happen, so don't worry yourself over nothing, I say, hm?"

Mickey was quiet for so long that I began to fret I'd made myself appear looser than was dignified. I raised my head, but found him tracing his bare foot back and forth across the kitchen floor. Rarely did I have the chance to get a close look at the feet of Seelie Courters, and I wasn't sure what to think of them. Ugly, misshapen little hands, they were. Stubby toes. No opposables.

"So, what are your boundaries?" I prompted. He may be a little shy, but it was still important to be clear. Mickey thought for a moment, pulling down the hem of his pyjama shirt, before he finally looked up.

"Pants stay on, shirts are maybes. I like it pretty quiet, and I like big open spaces, so I was hoping we could do it out here in the main dorm area, not my tiny bedroom. Don't worry; my roommates agreed to stay out so we could have our privacy. I, um… I've always imagined I'd have this habit of holding my partner's face while I seriously preen, so if that bothers you, th-then just speak up and I'll stop. Most importantly, if I decide I need to be done, I want to be done, no questions asked. Is that okay?"

Ah. I squinted. If Mickey and I had been about to engage in a long-term romantic partnership, I could see a few points in his requests that would cause no end of problems eventually. I am not a very quiet person by nature, and even imagining Mickey pulling away from me without prior warning or explanation was beginning to stress me out. What if I offended him? Or what if halfway through he simply decided I wasn't good enough, or worth his time, or he regretted ever having invited me over? What if he told his friends never to speak to me again, and they told all their friends too?

However, what I said was, "Yes, I can work with that. How do we begin this, then?"

Mickey paused. His fingers slid behind his neck, and he glanced at the ceiling. "How do you think we should begin this, Julius?"

I blinked, taken aback. "Uhh…" Why was he asking me to lead? Wasn't the entire purpose of the preening ritual to flex one's muscles and flaunt one's dominance? Besides that, I was the one stepping outside the norms of my culture here. A flicker of annoyance stabbed down my spine. Oh, drat. This was like courting Mona all over again. Why was I always expected to make the first move? Just once, I wanted a charming dame or handsome bloke to pin my willing shoulders against the sofa and pleasure me without a gram of restraint, you know what I mean? I wanted the gentle, affectionate head butts against the bottom of my chin. I wanted every flutter of fingers to leave me shuddering as though in a storm. I wanted the icy flower of passion to rise undeniably in my chest.

So that's how I approached Mickey. Moving carefully to avoid crumpling his wings, I progressed us through the licking ritual until he was on his back and I towered above him. He smirked in satisfaction and sat halfway up to scrape his tongue across the scales on my cheek. Then he pulled away again, tilting up his chin so his neck remained exposed. Well? his sparkling eyes seemed to ask. Don't you like me? Don't you WANT me?

I hovered above him, too puzzled to move for some time. When I did extend my tongue, it was with hesitation. I waited for Mickey to deny me, to warn me that I was overstepping my role as the subordinate one in our relationship. He did not. In fact, it was only when I crouched over him, kneeling in his lap with his head flat to the sofa and my hands braced against his chest (Curse that jabbing slingshot), that he finally relaxed. In fact, I do believe it was the first time I'd seen him relax at all since I'd met him weeks ago. I bent down to scrape my careful tongue along the bottom of his chin, then brushed my saliva away with my sleeve before my acid could sear his skin. Mickey arched his neck, sighing softly. All the tenseness left his muscles. His clenched fingers eased.

"Ahh…"

"That did something for you?" I asked curiously, leaning more of my weight forward. Anti-Fairies squeak when they're excited in a romantic way, you know. It's Mona's squeaking and squealing that drives me insane with desire- with the knowledge that I was good enough to coax such a response from her, the longing to press her to the wall while I douse her fluttering eyelids in smooches… But Mickey wasn't giving me any of that. Nothing more than these little gasps and sighs that made him sound as though his belly was ailing him. What did those mean? Good? Bad? Were those intentional, or was he under so much anxious stress that he'd simply cracked?

Oh, why did communicating across Court boundaries have to be so complicated?

"Mmhm," he murmured, opening one sleepy eye. I could hear happy liquid magic tumbling through his veins. He blinked up at me in slow motion. "Do that again, Julius. I really like it."

His arms were still flopped above his head at crooked angles as though in mid-stretch, and he had yet to show any interest in bringing them up to touch me in any way. Hmph. Wasn't I supposed to gain pleasure from this ritual too? Because right now, I felt more like a hired anti-will o' the wisp than an equal partner. I wrinkled my nose, but complied with his request. Never let it be said that Julius Anti-Lunifly doesn't know the tricks of alluring foreplay.

An hour passed by the end of our preening session, and never once did Mickey return my advances further than a handful of random licks along my nose. Nothing at all involving his hands. So much for holding onto someone's face when he loses himself in licking. He didn't even try after the first two minutes. Granted, I didn't ask, but… I mean… He should have picked up on the nonverbal signals that I wanted him to. Right? He valued my friendship too, didn't he? I wasn't just… all the benefits of a drone combined with none of the responsibility… Right?

In the end, I left Mickey's dorm more discouraged than I wish I would have been, my head low and my hands shoved deep inside the pockets of my trousers. When I came across a particularly dense piece of cloud outside, I kicked it with my foot and sent it bursting in all directions. Bits of fluff rained around me. I flew faster.

Is something wrong with me? Shouldn't I have enjoyed that?

Maybe preening simply wasn't my thing. Good smoke, I really want to lick the sweat off your pudgy, wrinkled neck right now, had never been a thought to cross my mind when I looked at Mickey, or at any of the other young gynes on campus. I mean, it wasn't as though I was opposed to preening with a gyne if it pleasured him. If I ever had a gyne for a romantic partner, anyway. It just didn't make me feel… you know.

I felt good, I guess, but I'd seen drones waddle about smokedarn drunk off pheromones, fat and happy like painted seashells. Mickey's soft after-snuggles reeked of someone who'd been serviced properly, but even those hadn't made me feel any of the emotions I'd expected. Why couldn't I find the mental escape in preening that Fairies could? Wasn't I supposedly a Fairy in an Anti-Fairy's body? Wasn't this supposed to do something for me? Alas, it's awfully cruel to need something you don't even really want.

I felt empty. Unfulfilled. Hungry for more than he could give.

"Ohh, Mickey," I muttered to myself, clenching my monocle. I spurred my flight across campus faster still. "My own shame wounds my pride as though you struck me down yourself. Ah, if we were but a few millennia older, I imagine I could show you what a good time really is. The pretend-play of preening isn't my style. I'm the sort of drake who desires to see things through to their end. It's over between us now, I'm afraid, old sport. But keep your chin up. While I can never be your committed drone, perhaps one day in the distant future, you and I could whirl around the roost together, hm?"

It's hilarious to have culture differences, isn't it? To think that Mickey grew hesitant when the faintest tips of my stomach fur brushed his skin through two layers of fabric… yet upon my return to my room, Noon didn't bat a single eyelash when I poofed into my nightclothes and flew up to join him for a late-morning bundle and steamy romantic book.

Winter break came upon us a few days later. After our final day of exams, I meandered sluggishly about the dorm, flying low enough to drag my heels. Rarely since my schooling began had I visited the Castle during holiday, for visiting the Castle meant an unavoidable encounter with Mother. But on the other hand, Mona and Lohai would be waiting for me…

"Why don't you come visit my colony?" Noon suggested, swiping my discarded sandals from the floor. He dropped them on a chair. "I've met your brother, but you've never met mine."

I snapped the buckle on the smaller of my two satchels and glanced up. "I suppose we could make that work. And what of your betrothed? Did you visit the Blue Castle during your first Seven Festivals? You've never mentioned a betrothed."

He paused, but before I could question why, he said, "No betrothed," and that was that. He scraped his claws through his black and silver hair. "Which is fine. I don't think I'll ever be interested in committing to marriage. Having a honey-lock partner will be enough for me. I'm a bit of a lone foop."

This was news to me, and I tipped my head. "You know, you're already so patient and firm. You'd be a wonderful father someday, quick to discipline but never harshly. Surely you don't really wish to give that up?"

Noon scratched his cheek. "I don't hate pups, but I don't really want to raise any of my own. I suppose…" Here, he frowned. One arm tightened around his torso. "If my honey-lock partner doesn't have a committed partner of her own by the time she bears a pup, I'd consider marrying her. But ideally, she'll be married to someone else, and they'll do a fine job raising the pups without me. Who knows? It may never happen anyway. Not with the fairy baby mandate. My counterpart was sterilised along with all the other fairy drakes."

The way he spoke sent shivers down my spine. I bit my lip and curled in my toes. Smoke, it always terrified me to recall the utter control Fairy-Cosmo wielded over my life. I'd always had the fairy baby mandate to soothe my fears of bearing estranged offspring, but now I wondered…

Would that ban lift within my lifetime? What if I ever bore pups with my honey-lock partner, and it turned out she was married to another Anti-Fairy already? One whom she dearly loved? Legally, any pups I may give her belonged to her and her legal partner. Even if they carried my genetics, no matter how much I may want them, I had no legal ground to claim them as my own. Why, even if she wasn't married and had no regular partner at all to speak of, she still wasn't required to share custody of our children with me if she chose not to. If she wished to raise them without me, that was her right.

Could I ever learn to accept that? As Noon struck his wand against the stove to coax it alight, I stared at the back of his head, wondering if he was a better drake than I.

I returned to packing my things, having made up my mind to join Noon at the Anti-Sundive colony for the first week of my break, and spend the rest of it with Mona and Lohai back home. Several minutes in, I sat back and stared in sudden amazement at the ceiling. I only had one more term at Frederick Shinesworth. I would graduate from Lower School this spring. Mona and I had discussed my plans with Anti-Bryndin and Anti-Elina, and against my protests, they had all encouraged me not to continue my education into Upper School. And especially not into the Fairy Academy after that.

I'd sworn to Mona that I would attempt to lead a bachelor colony for a matter of seasons, and upon my return to the Castle, I would marry her. Leaving home, I didn't mind. But trading centuries of educational opportunity to roam aimlessly throughout Anti-Fairy World sipping flower nectar and munching on squirming mouthfuls of sprites?

Could I really accept that, either?

"Bats do it," Mona had assured me when we'd last discussed the subject two years ago. My stomach had clenched then, as it clenched again now. My devotion to my retort hadn't changed: "I'm more than my base instincts. I'm more than just a bat."

I wondered where my brother was. I hadn't heard from them since that Patrons' Day at the Castle. I hoped their health was well.

After I'd packed my clothes away, I stormed into our dorm kitchen, holding up a thick orange shirt with a zipper down its front for all my roommates to see. "Oh, look at this! Somehow, Mickey managed to accidentally stuff his sweater in the bottom of my drawer. Rubbish. Noon, you're skilled in tracking spells, aren't you? I know he lives in Lau Rell, but that's as specific as he ever got, so I can't return it to him otherwise."

Teddy smothered his laughter in his palm. "I think he left that for you on purpose, chief."

I shifted my gaze between him and Mickey's sweater. "For me? But I'm an Anti-Fairy. I have fur to keep me warm, and I'll be snuggled up at roost with my crechemates all winter."

Noon paused, soup dribbling from his ladle. "Julius, don't take this the wrong way, but did you, or did you not, notice Mickey's been flirting with you this entire term?"

I blinked. Having folded up Mickey's sweater, I set it on the counter's edge. "What? He has?"

Teddy, Noon, Rander, and Freddy all nodded. "Blatantly," Rander said.

"Ahaha… No. No, you misunderstand." I placed both my hands to my chest. "I'm Julius Anti-Lunifly, son of a concubine and a goody-goody servant. My lift barely surpasses two claw-widths on a good day. I'm stubborn and off-putting. I'm not even 150,000 yet. People don't flirt with me."

"Mickey does."

"Why?"

Noon gestured towards me with his ladle. "Because you have what he doesn't, even though he's a gyne."

Freddy nodded. "You've got the big ol' CIYD."

"CIYD!" Rander punched the air. "CIYD."

I shifted my gaze from left to right. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean by that."

"Confidence in your dominance," Noon said, holding out a square bowl of soup for me to take. "You're a leader type. He responds to that."

"I don't lead anything!"

"You led him on," Teddy snickered.

"We're just friends!" I protested, tears springing to my eyes.

Rander snorted. "You came home one night with traces of his magic all over you. You totally smooched him."

"Yes! As friends!"

They fell over each other, cracking up at my expense. With a snort at their immaturity, I took my soup bowl and excused myself to the other room. There, alone for a moment, I leaned my back against the door and slid all the way down until I was sitting on the cloudstone floor. I folded my legs, rested the bowl in my lap, and pushed my hands against my eyes.

"Oh, Mickey… How could I have been so blind? Mickey, Mickey, Mickey…" I massaged my temples, growing more frustrated by the second. "Smoke, I don't like Mickey. I've never liked Mickey. Not like that, anyhow. I mean, I barely even know him. Did he give me his shirt to show I had his favour? I don't want to carry it. I could never court someone I don't know."

Why did those intense physical feelings of attraction come easily for the characters in Kalysta Ivorie's writing, but not for me? I mean, for them it was as simple as exchanging smiles and talking for the span of an evening. Then they made love. It was plain and simple for them, even knowing next to nothing about one another.

I pressed my hands to my cheeks, trying to think of a single person in the universe I would be comfortable sharing my most intimate self with were I to come of legal age tomorrow. Mickey? Absolutely not. I considered us acquaintances more than friends. Anti-Wanda? Oh, I delighted in listening to her bubbly laughter, but if she approached me any time soon full of flirtations, I wouldn't lay a claw below her waist. And she wasn't exactly the prettiest thing, either. Not the sort of person one normally pines to kiss, with her awkward teeth jabbing out and the constant crossing of her eyes. No. I wasn't attracted to Anti-Wanda. Anti-Kanin? Love him fiercely I may, but I wasn't sure I loved him in that sense. Anti-Kanin was someone I wished to exchange strokes with so I may take his favour and prove our forever friendship. I had no interest in singing with him at roost.

Mona? I'd kissed her in the silly, passionate way of adolescents before, and of course I couldn't wait to sing with her, because my research… my theories… my pups…

"I'd do it for science," I realised, lifting one corner of my soup bowl to my lips. My brow furrowed. "That's what drives me. I'd mate with her in order to bear pups, but if the nature spirits themselves told me my theories were wrong and my hands would surely turn up empty…"

I sipped my soup again in silence. Yes. I needed Mona because she was female. Once we came into our adult wings, the final link between us and our counterparts would open, granting her access to Fairy-Saffron's sperm, and allowing me to carry Fairy-Cosmo's eggs. According to my leading theories, both were required in my grand plan to produce pups without a corresponding Fairy nymph counterpart. No Anti-Fairy understood me the way Mona did. I could not afford to lose her.

Strange. The fact of the matter was, I liked Mona in a friendly way. As our relationship stood now, I felt completely comfortable talking to her, snuggling up beside her while we slept, reproducing with her… but not making love to her for the sake of simply making love.

Was that wrong?

I stayed awake all night, fidgeting at roost. Poor Noon put up with my squirming, even if it left us both groggy and cranky the following day. In the end, I finally came to the conclusion that I was too young to fret about this, and that given a little time, my feelings towards Mona would grow more affectionate. Winter break was here. Today was a new day. I would face it in high spirits.

"Mickey died last night," Teddy said as I was reaching for the jam at breakfast. My arm shuddered, frozen, and I turned. Most of Teddy's weight was braced on his elbow, it seemed. His fingers curled in his golden brown hair. It took, it seemed, every gram of his being to keep himself from crying.

"What happened?" I croaked.

Teddy sighed, his hand slipping over his eyes. "I woke up to my scry bowl bubbling close to midnight. It was my aunt calling. She told me about it. A more dominant gyne took up residence in Lau Rell while he was here in school. When Mickey went home…"

"Gynes are territorial. They kill other gynes." A lump formed in my throat.

Teddy scrubbed his thumb across his forehead. "They're having his funeral in his hometown tonight… if you'd like to go. I'm going. I mean, I didn't know Mickey too well, but he was close friends with my sister. I think she intended to court him when they were older. And he's just dead now. He's dust."

"That's not good," I murmured, raising my fingertips to my cheek. "Well… All right. Thank you ever so much for letting me know."

When I lifted my head the first thing my eyes fell on was Mickey's orange zipper-up shirt, folded and resting on the end of the counter where I'd set it the night before. His wing slits were so thin. A curl of green hair lay across the shoulder. I stared at it, feeling blank.

"I hate to ask," Teddy said, following my gaze to the shirt. "But… can you do something about that? Either wash his pheromones out of it, or take it back to Anti-Fairy World?"

I nodded mechanically, picked up the shirt, and left the kitchen. Later that morning, while Noon was out and no one was watching, I tried to connect to poor Mickey. I pulled the shirt over my head and pressed the collar to my nose, the way I'd seen hopeful Fairy damsels sniff their lover's scents.

His pheromones were present, but they didn't do anything for me. Mickey didn't smell like an adult gyne the way my donor bottles did. He smelled like a child. A sweet, innocent, hopeful child who was supposed to study Boudacian and Yugopotamian geology someday. After taking Mickey's shirt off again, I curled in a ball on Rander's narrow bed and used the shirt as a pillow. I stayed there in the dark until I heard Noon come back. Then I poofed it deep enough into pocketspace for wild umbrae to find and make nests out of it, and did my utmost to forget it was even there.

Noon and I followed Teddy to Lau Rell, a tiny Fairy town between the borders of the Central Star and Lower West Regions of Fairy World whose famous carnival I'd heard of, but had never attended. The place was intended to be cosy, although it wasn't. Teddy introduced us to his aunt, Dm. Luna, who tearfully offered us a place to stay in her home. Noon and I looked at each other, then at Teddy to confirm that she was serious. He nodded. Then Noon looked to me, respectfully deferring as a Sky year does to a Water. I twisted the star cap of my wand in my hands.

"That's, um… that's very kind of you, it really is, but Noon and I will be quite all right sleeping outdoors."

"I insist."

She insisted. I grimaced and stiffly bowed. "With all due respect, dame, I highly doubt your quaint home is equipped to meet our needs, and we wouldn't wish to impose. A sturdy tree to roost from will be sufficient."

Dm. Luna tried to protest, but I held firm. Then she tried to outfit us in coats that weren't designed for Anti-Fairy wings. I again denied her, pointing out that we had brought our own. Then she insisted my limping wing wasn't well and that she in all her wisdom of "real" medicine could set it right for me… In the end, Noon and I left for the funeral bundled up in scarves striped with the colours of peppermint, spewing yarn from our mouths with every gust of wind and trying not to giggle.

That wasn't a problem any longer once we reached the actual funeral site, in front of the spurting fountain in the centre of town. Sombreness overcame our procession. As a group, we all fanned out around it and stilled our wings. Mickey's mother hovered in the middle, holding his core between her hands. Unlike mine, his had actually manifested into something more than empty storage space. It's always strange, you know, when you learn what was inside the forehead chambers of your peers all this time. Mickey's core had been capable of punching holes through parchment. That's how Fairies saw his soul: Something that was useful only when it had a purpose. Something that was dead and lost to them now.

Mickey's mother spoke straightforwardly on the ups and downs of Mickey's life, instead of waxing poetic like an Anti-Fairy would. I clasped my hands at my waist and bowed my head, trying not to feel sick to my stomach over the fact that Dm. Luna had insisted Noon and I wear black instead of white. Don't you know that will attract negative karma? I wanted to scream at everyone, but I kept my mouth clamped shut and buried in my scarf.

Fairies are cruel even when they don't intend to be. They collect the souls of their late fellows from the heaps of lifedust their bodies leave behind. Anti-Fairies bury such things in sacred Temple chambers, but Fairies have no qualms about overstepping their place, or breaching the metaphysical world. They believe that if they hold the physical form of one's soul in their hands, the spirit it belonged to can return from Plane 23 to visit them. They slice such things open and dissect the inner spirit from the worldly outer shell; no, Fairies do not fear the sacred status of the core. They keep the old souls of their relatives on their work desks like trophies, punching holes or stapling papers or sharpening quills.

I realised then that Mickey's family held Daoist beliefs, and I had never asked him. They didn't believe in reincarnation the way we Zodii did. In his mother's mind, everything that made up Mickey was lost now. Somewhere on Plane 23 of Existence, Mickey had reunited in spirit with his Anti-Fairy and Refracted counterparts to become a single united being known as a Daoine. Daoine translated literally meant the people in the ancient Fairy tongue of Gaideliac. The people that Daoist Fairies wanted to force mine to be…

I tried to focus on his mother's speech, but my ears twitched back and forth, fighting to block out the whispers flying through the crowd and completely unable to: "Spoke to him once but never knew him well," "Heard he was a good kid who collected rocks his entire life," "Why does she get to be in the fountain, China? Isn't that against the rules?"

At that last comment, my wings jolted. That voice, I recognised. I twisted around. Mister?

I kept my mouth shut, but the startled child sensed my movement and turned to me with a crow-eyed stare. Today he wore a crisp grey suit, not the rumpled clothes I'd seen him in at Sugarslew. Grey was, evidently, close enough to black for it to be acceptable at a funeral. His double cowlick was gone, and his hair looked shaggier in the back than I remembered. A pointed hat floated above his head in place of a broken crown. But the black hair, the pale skin, the square wings, the little round nose, those lavender eyes… He shoved his thumb inside his mouth and glanced shyly at the cobbled cloudstones. The selkie beside him (China by name, it would seem) smiled and gave him a small nudge. He shook his head and tightened his fingers in the pocket of her coat. China shrugged. Shifting a newborn nymph to her other arm, she waved at me, then turned her attention forward again.

Just before I did the same, I caught sight of two small figures on her other side. Both looked very similar to the thumb-sucker, including sharing the pointed grey hats, but one child was a handspan shorter and as pale and scrawny as a wraith, while the other was a handspan taller, and he did have the cowlicks at the front of his hair. Mister. He stared at me in suspicious curiosity, both his arms clenched around China's leg. His little brownie-like wings fluttered in circles like an elf's. The scrawnier child's expression appeared equally wary, but intrigued. Oh. I cocked my head to one side, and a sense of dread began to fill the pit of my stomach. I had the feeling I knew exactly which gyne had settled in Lau Rell while Mickey was away. Coincidentally, Mr. Whimsifinado himself was nowhere to be found. And if all four of those crossbred fairy children were his nephews, then Emery had certainly been busy…

"Poor, sweet China," Dm. Luna sighed when I finally tore my attention away from them. She pulled her coat tighter at the front. "Life is bumpy for selkies like her, changing hands without a choice. That nasty brute of a husband has been cheating on her for centuries, you know."

"'Cheating'?" I asked. The word was familiar, but not in this context.

"They're not her nymphs," she murmured, staring straight ahead. "Damsels always pass their crowns to their children, but those aren't selkie ones above their heads. They hide them with the ugly hats. She's a good dame, China."

I fell silent, trying to follow along with the Daoist ceremony without having the cultural context to understand King Nuada's scripture. This became more difficult when I realised an undertone of music was playing in the background. Not at the funeral itself… but from somewhere in the distance, at the edge of my hearing. None of the Fairies seemed to notice, but I couldn't stop glancing over my shoulder, and even Noon succumbed and flattened his ears. Good smoke! What sort of empathy-lacking psychopath would play party music this loudly during a small town funeral?

… The gyne.

My face purpled. That was Mickey's music player, wasn't it? The one he'd spent millennia inventing himself. Mr. Whimsifinado must have searched Mickey's schoolpack once he'd killed him off, and thought the music player looked interesting enough to take.

When Lepidopteritus came on, I couldn't take it any longer. I grabbed Noon's arm and whispered, "I'm going to end this."

He leaned down without taking his eyes from Mickey's mother. "Don't. I know it's upsetting, but just let it go."

"I won't," I hissed, my hackles bristling up. The way I saw it, Mr. Whimsifinado already looked down on my people. If he was going to hate me either way, it may as well be because I deserved it. Shoving Noon's arm, I turned and slipped away between the crowd. He wouldn't follow me. We're a colony-oriented species. If the majority of the group was staying behind, so would he. Perhaps I do have a bit of a Fairy brain in my head after all.

With my sensitive ears, tracing the music to its source wasn't difficult. After only a brief moment of flying, I pulled up my wings and landed on the roof of a tall pink house that I instantly identified as having been designed with the mid millennia modern architectural style in mind. Ridged shingles bit my hands. There I crouched, poised like a gargoyle on the slope. I rasped my tongue across my lips and picked my way on all fours down towards the one window on the upper floor that glowed with light. I'd trained for ages as a homeostasis specialist. A 'demon summoner' as the Fairies so eloquently put it. I never went anywhere new these days without my, ah… supplies stuffed under my coat.

This had to be the place. The thumping music swirled around the building like a vest padded with four-leaf clovers. I slid down from the roof and landed in a crouch on the windowsill. "The joke's on you, old sport," I muttered, squinting through the frost-coated glass. I drew my slingshot and a hefty rock from the inner pockets of my coat. "Don't you know it's bad luck to be superstitious? Ha. It's a shame I have to exact revenge and run, but I'd never get any exercise if I didn't."

My blood thudded through my veins in time with the pulse of the music on the other side of the window. My shoulders pressed against cloudstone. I searched the room three times over, straining to identify the different pieces of furniture without the aid of my echolocation. What I found was a Fairy style bedchamber, complete with a writing desk, a dresser, a closet, and (most importantly) a large mirror hanging across from the enormous bed. Silver back- I could tell. I couldn't suppress a soft cackle at the sight of it. Oh, the fool! The bedchamber walls had been painted with brown, white, and pink trees to mimic the wonder of young springtime. He'd hung the round mirror to balance the Leaves energy in the room with Sky, but at what cost?

This was almost too easy! My grip tightened around the handle of my slingshot, but I forced myself, with all the chiding I could muster, to hold my patience. Fate swiftly blesses the ones who wait. I looked inside the room again, and realised suddenly that the cushy bed was occupied. Oh. Yes, of course. Usually when a room was alight with candles, someone was inside it. My angle wasn't excellent, but when I strained, I could pick out the shape of a large fairy tossing and turning beneath the heavy bed covers. Just as I leaned forward, he jolted upright and looked blearily around. He wore mint green pyjamas to sleep. Sweat stained his arms. He huddled there for a moment, hands braced on the sleeping pallet behind him. His chest heaved as though he couldn't drink magic properly through his lines. The energy field around me rang with zings of exhausted confusion. His eyes glowed bright lavender in the dim light, searing like mourning candles in my direction. He looked squishy and soft without his glasses.

I faltered, my jaw slackening. Despite the thumping music drowning out all but my own thoughts, Mr. Whimsifinado wasn't dancing on Mickey's grave. He was asleep! Or, well, trying to be. Fitfully too, by the looks of it.

… This made things easier. I needed 'easier,' particularly if Mr. Whimsifinado was awake and alert now. My close proximity must have tripped his Fairy senses. I puffed my cheeks, forced myself to glance away from him, and sized up the mirror on the opposite wall. It hung in direct line of the window where I now perched. It would only take one solid hit on my part to shatter it- or maybe two, depending on if my first attack died at the window glass. Yes, only two shots at the most.

Gritting my fangs, I placed the rock in the pouch of my slingshot and pulled back the elastic. I would wait a moment more until Mr. Whimsifinado lapsed back into sleep. When that mirror shattered and unadulterated bad luck leaked into this Plane of Existence, the umbrae would come. I was… certain I could resist their siren call. Yes- I was more than my base instincts, and I could resist the dreaded pull. Without an anti-fairy to interfere, the invisible beasts would tear that slumbering murderer apart where he lay in his bed of roses and thorns. Today, there would be no camouflage uniforms to save him. A wand for a wand. A wing for a wing. It was his fate. It was decided. C'est… la…

I…

I…

My outstretched hand trembled. The tears bubbled over. Sniffling pathetically, I lowered my slingshot. The rock in the pocket tumbled across the windowsill, then fell over the edge to the ground far below.

I couldn't do it. Not when he had nymphs to raise. What was wrong with me? Any other Anti-Fairy would have done it, but again, my cowardly side confronted my wrath and won out without a fight. Julius Anti-Cosmo Anti-Lunifly was an assortment of uncouth things, but most especially, he was a drake of honour at his core. No matter what they'd done to me or those I loved, I could never strike even the worst Fairy in the world while they looked the other way.

"Forgive me, Mickey," I muttered, slumping back against the cold window. I dropped my slingshot in my lap, and my head in my hands. "Blind revenge is too bitter a drug for my tender palate. I'm afraid I'm just not much of an Anti-Fairy, hm?"

Mr. Whimsifinado crumpled into sleep again, still kicking his legs every other minute or so. I hunkered there on his windowsill until China the selkie came floating up the path with three of Mr. Whimsifinado's nephews trotting after her, and the baby sleeping in her arms. The moment the front door shut behind them, I spread my tired wings. If the funeral had ended, Noon would be looking for me.

Perhaps I was above backstabbing my enemies directly, but I was still a child of Sunnie in the end. I grieved with those who grieved, and I still wanted Mr. Whimsifinado, undeniably, to know that he wasn't as safe and invincible as he thought he was. That icy cold Anti-Fairy magic had visited his cosy home tonight. That I would always be watching him. So that frozen winter evening, before I leapt from his window, I lifted my wand to the heavens, and spent all my strength to summon snow.