((History: My main, Malefic Elf, aka Malicent "Mally" Eleanor Snowstar, is a Christmas Elf. There is a large, complex background to her, but suffice to say her mother (Eleanor) is an elf, her father (Omael), an angel. She was a total blast to play in COX, and I've continued playing her still. This story details the meeting of her parents. Mally, like her father, has a series of "Aspects" much like those little voices in your head that argue when you make a decision or whatnot. But each one is unique with it's own way of speaking. Happy, Anger, Logic, Doubt, and Decision (aka Indecision). Omael's "internal voices" are written in italics.
I eventually made Omael in-game as Dominic O'Malley, undercover, as a SR/TW Tank who was a total blast to play. I recently received two commissions from ImagesByAlex based on Omael and Eleanor. The first is based on this story. The second is many years afterwards, for Eleanor died in childbirth and her soul was hidden in a snowglobe...
Note: I do appreciate constructive comments that help improve my writing.))
December 28, 1679
He looked down over the expanse of the small village, his three pairs of wings fanning the frigid air as he hovered over the night-darkened homes. A cold blast of air slithered through the feathers of his top wingpair, but was not the cause of the shiver that ran down his spine. His emotionless expression never wavered as he observed the solitude of the hidden hamlet.
Most of the single-floor homes were set in a circle surrounding a large building that was two stories high. A few homes were set beyond the circle, newer dwellings with second floors. A single, large barn was near the newer dwellings with a small, fenced paddock attached. A miniscule frozen lake sat behind the barn, with channels cut into the cold-hardened earth which guided water to the large structure in the center.
The dominating building was long and wide, with large, carved double doors center-set in each end and windows lining either side. The wood was old and stained with age and fading paint, with a roof in need of repair and heavy with the fresh snowfall that had fallen earlier in the day. Evergreen boughs topped the lintel of every door and window, the heady fragrance lingering in the faint breeze.
Conifers dotted the landscape, their branches weighed down by the ice and snow of the season and twinkling in the silvery moonlight from the clear sky that was pierced by craggy, cloud-capped peaks. A deep, midwinter silence surrounded the starlit scene as the angel hovered above, his arms crossed over his chest. With a deep, sad sigh he drifted nearer on his six, silent wings.
"Dying."
"Fading."
"We can see that now."
"They are fae. They will continue."
"There is a privation of Seelie protections. This particular populace falls completely under the custody of the High Court."
"The humans are destroying what their limited vision sees as a perversion."
"Orders are orders. The ice elves must be protected at all costs."
"We could mate with them."
"We've done that before with others... and were frowned upon. Nephalim are not well regarded."
"Not, technically, Nephalim, being as these are fae..."
"Introduce another race? Other wild fae in protective need?"
"Their underlying base is skewed... it needs refinement."
He frowned and tapped his chin as his pale grey eyes spied a darting figure. The slight bundle moved silently between the quaint houses as it walked quickly towards the largest structure. With a slight beat of his wings, the angel moved to follow the creature.
"A danger?"
"Possibly. The others are asleep, exhausted from their annual endeavors."
"Then follow. If need be..."
"We will..."
It slipped easily through the door and Omael, his Celestial presence shrouded from the sight of mortals, followed. His long, white hair drifted on the blast of warm air that shimmered from the dark doorway. He paused a moment to trace his prey's path into a wide room with rows of wooden tables lined with stools and covered in toys and other crafts. At the far end of the main hall a large, stone fireplace still glowed with soft embers and it was here the figure had stopped and curled up in a large, wood-framed chair.
"I can't see you, but I know you're there, Omael."
"WHAT? How did she know?"
"She can't see us!"
"I made myself known, somehow."
He startled at the soft, feminine voice that rose from the small figure, and she turned slightly towards him. He froze, staring at the delicately boned face, almond-shaped eyes, and elegantly pointed ears of the ice elf. Vivid white eyes pierced through the darkness framed by a fan of curly black hair. She smiled brightly and motioned him closer. "You are a curious one."
"She's... beautiful."
"The Collector. Only she would know on sight."
"Sorter can, too, but he's a he not a she."
He moved slowly, a faint shimmer falling around him as he strode closer. Her eyes grew wide as he ghosted into view. "You must be The Collector," he scooped up her hand, his white hair falling over his face as he bowed low. His black waistcoat brushed the back of his knees just above the tops of his boots where his pants were neatly tucked.
She laughed a sound as light as the fragile glass bells that framed the massive, carved oak mantel. "I am Eleanor Maëlle Snowstar and yes, I am the Collector of Names."
His hand dwarfed the fragile one now cradled in his and he noticed her nails were short, broken and worn from years of hard work. A few scars marred the back of her hand and fading bruises mottled her arms. "It is a distinct honor."
"Not recent."
"Not all, no, but that one above her elbow is new."
Her eyes warily watched as he accepted her offer to sit across from her and reluctantly let go of her hand, "To what do we owe the honor of such an esteemed visit? He is not here. Vacation time for us, though short."
"Do we tell her?"
"She's the Collector. Might as well be second in command, really."
"Please... the Second is the Sorter."
"Sorter can't sort what isn't there."
"She's smart. She can help us, at least, learn more."
"She expected me."
Omael blinked slowly and tapped his chin. "Your people are dying out. A few more generations left, if that."
"Ahh..." She shook her head, pulling her woolen cloak closer around her as she shivered and laughed. "We must continue, is that it? Daddy mentioned something about that... what was it now? My mind is a fog... something about 'those above never allowing us to fall.'"
"What do you think he meant?"
Eleanor shook her head, then tilted it and gazed at him for a long time. "You're here to keep us alive. That's what he meant. We will not cease."
"Your continuance is a concern for the Court, yes."
"And for you?"
"She's teasing me!"
"Careful what we say."
"We are ardent in our allotted assignment."
She laughed again and rose, the cloak swirling around her bare legs as she walked over to him and looked down. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her piercing eyes bored into his as she leaned down so close their noses nearly touched. "Ardent, huh?" Her infectious, crooked smile caused the corners of his mouth to twitch slightly upward.
"Gah!"
"She smells like sugar cookies."
"We like cookies."
"We were warned of the precocious prankster proclivity of your predecessors, Miss Snowstar."
Her laughter softened as she whispered, "Oh, really? An angel from the esteemed order of Dominion comes down from the starry winter heavens and tells me he's here to make certain my people don't become extinct, and he's afraid I'm playing a joke on him?" Shaking her head she sat down in his lap and stroked chilled fingers through his hair. "What's with the alliteration and formality? I detect more to you than seen."
"How? How can she see that?"
"She sees us."
"She's more than she seems."
"Control."
Her intimate touch froze him as he watched her calculating expression.
"We've known her type before."
"Oooh yeah. She'd be a queen."
"Empress."
"Observation of the specimen would likely show vacillation in disposition."
He blinked slowly and relaxed, keeping his hands at his side. "I am as I choose to be, Miss Snowstar."
"Ah! There it is." She laughed as she traced a finger over his ear. "Pronouns and formality. Please. We're friends, here, Omael. Call me Elly."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Not allowed to be so close."
"Very well."
Their eyes locked for a long moment. "What solution do you have?" she inquired.
"Don't..."
"It is clear your race needs to look beyond the boundaries of your small village for mates."
"... answer that."
"Cousins, all, in form and fashion. The blood is thin, and growing thinner." She laughed and rolled off his lap to plop on the floor with a soft thud at his feet. The cloak fell open to reveal she was dressed in a threadbare lace nightgown. Bruises and half-healed cuts marred her bare, lower legs. Sprawled on the bearskin rug, she let her arms flop down and she stared at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. "Let the pride of lions in peace in their itty bitty space and they will mate themselves out of existence!"
"She's been hurt."
"Healing."
"Hrm..."
Her eyes darted back to him and she rose to her knees and leaned on his legs. "So. You want us to mate with you?"
"Wait? What?"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"No," he blinked and shook his head, smiling slightly, "That would solve nothing. You require more than one undiluted bloodline."
"Time time time... none of which we have!" She leaned back and threw her hands into the air.
"She's... not all there is she?"
"She makes a strange sense, but is significantly strenuous to interpret."
"Likely tired. Exhausted. Look at the circles under her eyes."
Omael studied Eleanor and frowned. "You should be in bed."
"Bed, dead!" She laughed and leaned forward, laying her head on his thigh as she sighed deeply. "I'll die in bed, but not here. No...," her eyes gained a glassy look as she gazed towards the ceiling, "It will be another time, soon though. I can't go just yet. I have to help you. Give you the means..."
(https://images.weserv.nl/?url=www.wingedscarab.com%2Fimagesbyalex%2Ffireplace_final_small.jpg)
He raised a thin eyebrow. "A means? Explain."
She laughed and looked up at him. "You know what I mean. I know... it's," she paused, tears welling in her eyes as a shudder shivered her slight frame, "It's too much for one. Took Daddy. Took us all, eventually. I need more."
"I'm afraid we don't understand, Miss Snowstar."
"I... we... need. Plurality, duality. More me than need. Elly... I am Elly."
"Yeah. Something is definitely wrong here."
"She requires our protection."
"And she'll get it."
"Upper Management should be warned..."
Omael frowned and blinked, "Elly... are you ill?"
"Daddy tried to... prepare me." She shook her head and slid to the floor, turning so her her back rested against his legs. "I'm losing myself. Each day, hour, year... I'm the last."
"The last?"
"The last Snowstar. The last Collector. No heir."
"That would mean..."
"No, we must do something."
"And you're tired."
She nodded. "You heard my prayer. That's why you're here."
"Prayer? We don't..."
"Upper Management receives and records all invocations for requests to determine exigency."
"So they knew..."
"And sent us here to make it happen."
"Elly..." He frowned and reached down, slowly drawing the crying elf into his arms.
"We will do what we must."
"But not at her expense."
Sobbing she curled against him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. Gently he cradled and rocked her until her body relaxed and she fell asleep, her tears drying on her cheeks. He stroked her hair, his fingers removing the tangles as he turned their conversation over again and again in his head.
"She's mad."
"She needs us."
"We have to help them all, not just her."
"Are they all like her?"
A short time later the sound of the door closing drew his awareness from the dying embers and he hastily slipped from sight, making sure she was comfortably curled in the large chair. He had barely faded from view when another elf approached, his graying red hair sticking up in all directions and the smell of spirits heavy on his breath and clothes. "ELLY! Get up, ye whacked out wench. Sleepwalkin' agin, ya git?" The older elf leaned over her and swayed unsteadily on his feet as she stirred.
"Oh...?" She looked up, startled, and reeled back as she held her wrinkled nose. "Eew! Alvar, get away! You reek!"
"Could he be the source of her bruises?"
"I don't think so."
"Aww, don'cha be treatin' me like that, now. Jus' 'ere to see ye home. Yer barely dressed, e'en." He snorted and wiped his freckled nose on his sleeve.
Eleanor looked around, her eyes wide. "Where is he?"
"Who? Ain' no one 'ere, El."
"The angel."
"Aww, no. Now on top o' the wee folk ye seein' yer seein' angels, too? Boss ain' gonna like that none."
"Wee folk?"
"We'll ask her."
"But he was here! He's going to help us! Find a way for..." She looked at Alvar for a long moment then shook her head. "Oh, you're right. I must have dreamed again..."
"Dern right, yer dreamin' an' walkin' bare in the snow. Surprised you ain' catched your death by now. Come on. I'll get ye home." He hooked an arm around her waist and frowned as she moved away, but shrugged it off. "What's got into ye?"
"Hrm."
"She doesn't trust him, look at her eyes."
"She is wary."
"What does she see?"
"I'm just... I can walk on my own."
"Suit yersel'." He shuffled alongside her, his hands buried in his pockets.
As they left the workshop she shifted her eyes towards him, "You went into the town again."
"Yup."
"Why do you do that? Take that risk?"
"Those humans... funny folk. You kin learn lots from them, I 'spect. Short lives... gots lots to do inna short time."
"They rush it all." Eleanor pulled her cloak tighter around her.
"An' have fun doin' it. For all our time, we don' gots near as much done as they."
"We're makers. We remind them in the darkest time that light will return soon."
He nodded, "They be doers. S'okay. Don' worry none. I know they be a rough an' tumble lot, but we gots seclusion here, an' they don' see us none less we wanna be seen. They ain' gonna hurt us."
"The children are losing that, Al. We've been warned of dangers. Of getting too familiar with them. Our children are few as it is." Her voice grew hard, almost accusing. "It's a risk to keep doing it."
"Worse than we thought if their skills and powers are fading."
"He is not like her?"
"The Collector is unique, always has been."
"Ain' gone yet. We be fae, that's alla counts. Mind what your Daddy said? We be covered... guarded. Ain' gonna let nuthin' happen to us."
Eleanor smiled as she leaned against her door. "You're right, Alvar. Now, go home to Rauha. She'll be worried." She pressed a light kiss on the older elf's cheek and slipped inside.
Alvar grinned and hunched his shoulders as he pulled his heavy overcoat tighter around him. As the elf trudged through the snow towards his own home Omael spied Eleanor as she stood at her window, gazing up into the night sky filled with stars. He drifted down closer and placed his hand with hers where it pressed against a pane of thin glass. She smiled and whispered, "It wasn't a dream... you'll be back."
Omael smiled down at her, his wings stretched out around him.
"She can't see us!"
"Yes, we'll be back."
"No, we won't."
"Why not?"
"It is impossible to return when you never leave."
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