Honest Mischief

Sharp-toothed sharp-edged, Sha smiled and her tiny little canine teeth seemed to glitter in the sunlight, fading into nacreous enamel streaked with–red? blood? afterthought?

She crouched in the alley and readied her body for the Twist, for the fluttering juttering lightning-streak movement that all fae possessed. It wasn’t running, or walking. Nothing so mundane, so easy. It was flying, into the Beyond, footsteps echoing in other dimensions as she tapped a pattern on the ground, past cobblestone and brick. Ancient Irish dance, so stiff and up-down–failed imitation. But the Noplace Folk had tried. It was the thought that counted, even if Sha had still devoured the dancers that wandered into her fairy rings.

The thoughts made them sweeter–that was the point.

Then–a shift. The universe moved, slightly, and Sha felt its twitch down to the very marrow of her bones (manifested, made to look human). But still, despite the ache her NoSelf felt being stuffed into a third dimension body, now was her moment.

She spun, hips twisting in an unsung cadence, out of the alley, into the stream of Noplace Folk that buzzed around her. Sha felt her teeth draw blood as she smiled, bit down on her lip, felt the swell of the crowd and the sweady tumult that was humanity. Being mischief, she wasn’t here for any good (though Good was relative and didn’t mean much to the faefolk, much less Sha) but to rather makes things Difficult and by that she truly meant Fun For Faefolk.

F.F.F. A good motto to live by.

A hand twitched out, broke the barrier between buzzsaw vibrations and the turtle-march of humans, snatching a woman’s purse from her shoulder. A transfer, light-quick, pressed it into the hand of ragged barely-out-of-adolescence-boy, following by the jolt of magic that was Ill-Intent (sad'sa) and Cruel Trickery (isi sha’d). The boy jumped, startled, but his subconscious recognized (and embraced; Sha had chosen well) the magic, and he jumped like a spider, scuttling sideways amid the woman’s screams.

Sha laughed. Felt a little bit stronger. Bit her lip some more, to taste the Noplace blood that flowed through her veins for the time being. It was a bitter, but palatable.

There was more mischief to be had, though. An awning fell, a child’s ice cream plummeted to the ground, several stools in an outside bar found themselves missing screws and nails, a man’s beer turned to…piss, every cigarette in the vicinity suddenly Unlightable.

The last one was one of Sha’s particular favourites. She liked Frustration, the blood-steel feel of it, metal on metal, the way the Noplace Folk seemed to react so differently to it. Some cried, some yelled, some turned violent and swore and taught Sha new words (it was best when the tourists did this). The rising tide of irritation, sour against Sha’s skin, made her giggle and clap her hands like children did.

In this new world of Iron and Burning, fae fed on what they could. Trickery, malice, misery. Making the Noplace Folk happy made fae weak. Because they were antithetical (big word, Sha had learned it in the baffling Noplace creations called Books), humans and fae, that was, because they had been made to counter one another but how could the fae win when the very ground was paved with iron bars and coins and how Sha’s glamour was melting around her as she spoke because iron vibrated, sought out Fae-Flesh and tore into it she was screaming on the inside her NoSelf was a vortex of pain and Sha wanted to howl wanted to tear herself to pieces tear the humans to pieces let blood flow–

Mischief was best done in innocence and innocence was easy when you didn’t particularly care about who you were pranking.

Before she left, before she accidentally stepped on a coin and burned a hole through her foot, Sha loosened the bolts in the pier, broke the pulleys on the sailboats, expended each drop of power she’d gained from the distress colouring the air in disconnecting certain important parts in cars and trolleys and children’s strollers.

The pads of her feet blistered as she ran across the boardwalk, felt the planks rot with fungus and damp with each furious, smouldering step.

☆ OOC NOTES
+ original story
+ one-shot

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS