[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/531999698001592323/532975919825027113/Illustration.png[/img] [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/316071861521874946/525463806567251968/ambra2.png[/img][/center] [center][i][url=https://youtu.be/Tv9YoYCKNoE?t=279]Life in the Vivid Dream[/url][/i][/center] [hr] [b]Time: 10 Years Ago - November Location: Paris, France[/b] The wooden vanity’s paint was chipped, a dulled mint green. The mirror scratched from being moved one too many times by careless hands, wreathed around the mirror was blooming red roses with a string of little white lights giving life to the old piece of furniture. Removing a pair of earrings in the reflection was Odette Favre, humming as she was winding down for the evening having completed her routine full body stretches. Still dressed in her leotards, sharp clear lines of a large tattoo visible on her back depicting that of a Yew Tree, a tattoo she received a fair amount of complaints from her ballet mistress, Madame Renavand. Long mousey blonde hair released from a tight bun, shook loose and free falling down past her shoulder blades. She moved onto the little mason jar of homemade makeup remover cotton balls, removing the day’s foundation and eyeliner, rubbing away the mascara. Just behind her in the small bedroom was Bach sitting on the edge of her bed, chin in his hand. “[color=darkseagreen][i]It is your birthday tomorrow.[/i][/color]” He said in Common Fey, they had been practicing the language in conversations. Odette groaned as she heard what he said, taking a few extra moments to translate in her mind. “[color=thistle][i]Yes, tomorrow is a day of. . .[/i][/color]” She stumbled, “[color=thistle][i]Anniversary?[/i][/color]” “[color=darkseagreen]Almost.[/color]” He replied in French. “[color=darkseagreen]Birthday is not a word that necessarily exists for Faerie.[/color]” Patient, gently chiding. “[color=darkseagreen]What is your birthday wish, My Lady?[/color]” She returned to her vanity, responding in a light breezy fashion, “[color=thistle]Not to hear another faerie word for the entire day.[/color]” Sticking out her tongue at Bach in the reflection her smile infectious. “[color=thistle]I haven’t thought of what I want. Your gifts are always what I need.[/color]” He nodded, “[color=darkseagreen]Indeed, but I thought this year we could celebrate somewhere special.[/color]” Picking up the hairbrush and beginning to brush through her hair, her favourite by far and the most beautiful thing to be found on her vanity. Soft natural bristles, the paddle was a heavy silver enchanted to detangle gently. A spell she worked on for weeks to cast correctly. Her vanity was organized by rubber bands, old glassware and ziplock bags her makeup collection scrounged on savings. “[color=thistle]Where in Paris have we not already gone?[/color]” Odette asked patting away at her lip, removing lipstick. “[color=darkseagreen]You must think beyond the city limits, My Lady.[/color]” He replied. “[color=darkseagreen]We are going to open a portal to Faerie, it is time you have seen them for your own eyes.[/color]” Odette’s mouth popped open in surprise quickly turning into a brilliant smile. “[color=thistle]Oh! Are you serious?[/color]” She hopped up and gave him a hug squeezing tightly under his arms she stopped short leaning away to speak, realisation overcoming her. “[color=thistle]If I make a portal it’ll mean I’ll be spending my birthday in bed asleep. I’m getting better but I-I’m still drained after making one.[/color]” He smiled brushing hair out of her face as he spoke, affectionately, “[color=darkseagreen]That is why we will go tonight and awake tomorrow to enjoy the day fully.[/color]” Her smile returned in full force she let him go and went into her tiny closet to change from her leotards to her clothing, black leggings and a skirt with an old pink sports jacket, run down sneakers and a t-shirt with the iconic albeit faded picture of the sugar plum fairy with the date of the production printed beneath it. She packed a small bag with her pyjamas. Zipping around the room gathering what she would need, Bach chuckled at her enthusiasm. She quickly mussed her hair into place bending over in the mirror, standing back upright ready to go right then and there. “[color=darkseagreen]We’ll have to sneak out, your parents are still awake.[/color]” “[color=thistle]Too easy.[/color]” She said. Bach shrunk down landing on her shoulder, nodding. Odette opened her door slowly, having oiled the hinges for the exact purpose to sneak out quietly. Tristan and Perenelle Favre often too absorbed in their work to really notice her moving around but their ears were sharp when they heard movement in the small apartment. Carefully following the steps she had done dozens of times before, avoiding the telltale creaks in the floorboards gracefully. Ballet dancers being the very definition of light on their feet, Odette was no exception. She passed by their makeshift study and office, they turned one of the storage spaces into a private area away from the living room and kitchen. Stacked along the walls were banker boxes filled with research materials, samples, and paper. The door was cracked open and light spilled out into the darkened hallway. They hardly left the study all day, Odette could tell as much when the saran wrapped dinner plates in the fridge hadn’t been touched. As she snuck past she overheard them talking. “What day is it today?” She heard her mother ask. Her father hummed in thought checking his calendar, “The 14th-” “Ah! It is our little swan’s birthday tomorrow, Tristan. We have all this data to go through yet. . . and our deadline is coming up by the end of the week.” Odette made a face at the nickname. “What should we do?” “We’ll have to finish cataloguing the samples before we even think about her birthday, did you pick up a cake?” He asked. Her mother sighed, “No, I thought you did.” Together they sighed and together they resounded, “Tomorrow.” Perenelle said firmly, “Tomorrow we’ll do something special.” An all too familiar promise, Odette knew they would likely forget. Their forgetful nature and focus stopped hurting her feelings years ago when there was nothing to do to change their work ethic. She frowned moving on after they continued to chatter about what they were working on. Bach whispered, “[color=darkseagreen]Worry not My Lady, I would never forget.[/color]” Odette smiled appreciatively at his sentiment, whispering back when she reached the front door, “[color=thistle]You never forget anything.[/color]” Slowly unlocking the door, the latch always the loudest in her ears. She waited for a beat then pulled open the door to slide through to the other side using her key to lock the door. Safely outside the door, she walked fast down the hallway, the carpet was worn down and thin, light fixtures filled with dead bugs. She went down double time the cement stairs, nearly skipping with excitement Bach held on the best he could. Dashing past mousetraps, dusty steps and even a couple other tenants who she said a quick [i]Bonjour![/i] to as she passed them. She dashed out the door and onto the street, her neighbourhood was thankfully out of the general scope and eye of tourism but for the very same reason it was a [i]pain[/i] to commute to the Opera House every day. Charonne wasn’t a terrible place to be raised in, it was old much like most districts of Paris and they lived in the shadow of Saint-Jean-Basco’s Catholic church, literally. Odette went at a fast paced walk, heading for the cemetery. When they arrived they took a sharp right turn down the rows of tombstones. Having been there plenty of times before to practice her newly acquainted magical abilities. The youthful sorceress plopped her backpack to the ground, Bach resumed his original size. The pair alone except for the odd will-o-wisp guiding souls through the darkness, crossing over the graves. Stepping behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Odette began to concentrate, shutting out all thoughts of her day, of her excitement and the chilling November air rustling her hair. He whispered in her ear where they were going, what to picture and encouraged her to use their connection to find it. [center][i]“[color=thistle]Grand et beau flot d'âmes, ordonne-moi de voyager, dis-moi la sécurité, dis-moi tes plus grands cadeaux à la vie. Tu ne veux pas venir à moi volontairement? Ouvre-toi, ouvre-toi à la volonté d'Odette Fave. Proche de ma volonté comme Odette Favre.[/color]”[/i][/center] She spoke knowingly, proudly having written the incantation herself to call out to the Arcane Stream. Wispy tips of magic formed around her fingertips, she repeated the incantation for nearly an hour before the stream began to split, welcoming her and rewarding her for her diligence. Sweat dripped from her chin, blood dripped from her nose as the door began to form, her arms shook with exhaustion. As the door neared completion she dropped to her knees when the shiny golden knob appeared as a finished portal. “[color=darkseagreen]Come now, My Lady. You must keep your eyes open to close the door, we are almost there.[/color]” He lifted under her armpits, slinging her over his shoulder to carry. Opening the door to the faerie realms. She laboured to close the door behind them, groping at the handle. A firm grip, Bach moved them to close the door. On the other side of the door they stepped into a beautiful meadow, flowers in bloom surrounded by foliage and trees. The portal disappeared, nighttime embraced them. Little lights emanating from sprites danced into her blurry eyes, she focused on the tiny fey having never seen so many in one place before. Pushing herself up with some difficulty she peered around, using Bach as a crutch. “[color=thistle]Très belle.[/color]” Behind them was a magnificent, old, Yew tree. Bach carried her to the entrance of the tree, his palm pressed against the bark he spoke in a strange language, different from Common Fey, “[color=darkseagreen]It has been some time, my friend.[/color]” The door opened of it’s own volition. Bach carried his apprentice inside, the hallowed tree had meagre comforts - a bed made of leaves and base cotton. A basin made of polished wood jutted out of the wall, dry. A wicker basket meant for fruit, other food as well - it sat empty by the bed. He pulled a cloth free from his lapel and dabbed her face dry. “[color=darkseagreen]Sleep, My Lady. You are in Faerie now.[/color]” Her eyelids grew heavier and she fell asleep. [hr] Awaking to the sound of a light bell ringing, sunlight creeping up over the window sill, Odette pushed up from the bed rubbing at her eye remembering where she was, digging into her pack she grabbed some food from home and ate diligently looking through the window out into the meadow. Short distance away from the door she burst through, colour was everywhere, the air was sweet as was the sight. Odette slipped out of her shoes, flexing her toes in the grass. It was everything she dreamed it to be. Odette saw Bach in the meadow dancing as he did, music greeted her. She shrugged off her jacket big blue eyes wide with wonder. Tears gathered at her eyes, unable to hold back any longer. “[color=darkseagreen]Happy Birthday, My Lady.[/color]” He took her hand and they danced in circles, skipping from one foot to the next. Smiling endlessly, carefree. Sprites and Seelie alike came attracted by the laughter and song joining them. No form, Odette danced as she felt, little brownies danced uptop toadstools, earth sprites spun in the air their crowns of dandelions and spindly wooden arms and legs moving with grace. When collapsing for a break, Odette stared up into the blue sky huffing as she took a break. Bach laid down beside her, began weaving in and out of a story dropping in phrases of common fey but translating shortly after. The story of a mortal woman who married a noble faery prince, finding paradise as she discovered the world behind the veil. “[color=thistle]I’ll never regret this, Bach.[/color]” She said finally as the moments of quiet after he finished his story. “[color=thistle]I’ll never regret this life you’ve given me, my friend.[/color]” Bach smiled, squinting up at the sky. “[color=darkseagreen]I could not ask a better human to spend a few decades with than you.[/color]” He said, “[color=darkseagreen]It will not be easy to bring the Fair Folk back to Earth.[/color]” Odette nodded solemnly, “[color=thistle]I made a deal and I don’t break it. We need allies to make a big portal and I need to be a better spell caster.[/color]” He perked up proudly at that, “[color=darkseagreen]I do not say it enough but you have come along so quickly in six months.[/color]” She grinned, “[color=thistle]Better than any that have tried before?[/color]” “[color=darkseagreen]The best perhaps.[/color]” He replied matching her grin. They fell into a comfortable silence after a snicker. She sat back up and earthy sprites gathered at the crown of her head, whispering in common fey, Odette didn’t feel confident enough to respond but listened to them talk. They wondered who they were, intrigued by her mortality and began to play through her hair tickling her scalp. The day stretched into the evening, passing by the sun a giant stag walked with the sunset. Nibbling at some of the food she packed Odette took a seat by the giant glowing blue toadstool that Bach erected. She wondered idly how anyone would want to return to the city when everything felt perfect as it was here. She yawned, at the edge of the meadow she saw a small stature of a figure none of the fey that joined them that day resembled the stocky profile. “[color=thistle]I’m just going to stretch my legs.[/color]” She said to Bach and he waved continuing his story. Tracking over through the field to the edge the figure did not budge when she approached. Looking over her shoulder to Bach, feeling a bit of confidence to approach a faerie on her own. Remembering everything she was taught, manners mattered. The light from his pipe illuminated his face and closer now Odette recognized him as a Faun, short stocky pair of hairy goat legs and a human torso standing at least two heads shorter than Odette. His horns easily added an extra foot to his height, ears pointed but relaxed. His hair was long, thick curly hair and what little light could afford to see to Odette was a light chestnut brown. Small flowers lingered in the strands. His chin a little rough with some facial hair, thin lips and mischief clear as day in his dark eyes. Whatever he smoked lingered in the air around them and left bitter notes. She attempted to greet him in Common Fey, “[color=thistle][i]Good morning.[/i][/color]” “You’d be right if it was in fact, morning.” The Satyr said dryly, looking up at the sky and shrugging, he spoke in French fluently to Odette’s surprise. “Clearly you need some work.” “[color=thistle]I am working on it,[/color]” She replied defensively. “[color=thistle]It’s not an easy language, how do you know how to speak French?[/color]” The Faun laughed, “Earthen elves aren’t the only masters of language, keeping secrets as they do.” Odette looked over her shoulder at Bach, “[color=thistle]They keep more than that.[/color]” He stared at her, his gaze withering almost making Odette look away but she held her eye contact. “[color=thistle]What do you want-[/color]” He cut her off, “What did you mean when you said you would never regret this life given to you?” Caught off guard by the question, she took a moment to think. “[color=thistle]I meant I’ll never regret my experiences with the Fair Folk and magic.[/color]” “A novice spellcaster but also naive, completely expected for apparently a human considered to be an adult as of today if I heard correctly.” He replied sauntering closer to the meadow, Odette stepped away giving him more space than needed. “I won’t hurt you, I simply want you to use your big dumb brain to apply some critical thought.” Odette frowned, “[color=thistle]Critical thought to what?[/color]” “To your mentor, I know Bach of the Yew. You are not his first apprentice, do you know what happened to the others?” He asked dark beady eyes burrowing into Odette. “[color=thistle]They died.[/color]” She said, smirking taking that as a win. “[color=thistle]I trust him, he warned me what to expect and the others that have come before.[/color]” The Satyr bowed his head conceding, “What makes you special to stand above others that came before?” Odette thought for a few moments, deciding to word her answer carefully - Fauns were often wordy tricksters in their own right. Conversations were games as much as they were pranks, often sources of embarrassment for whoever decided to talk to them. “[color=thistle]My ambition, it surpassed others by leaps and bounds.[/color]” He laughed heartily not expecting her answer. “Then you will fit right in, Little Swan.” Odette froze at the nickname the colour draining from her face. Fear prickled at the back of her scalp and water inevitably gathered at her eyes. The Faun rounded to her side looking up as he smoked, “With such a pretty face you will be coveted in Courts despite your filthy mortality, you will never own your portals. You may stumble over your words, where your feet are sure.” Blowing smoke into her face, she scrunched it waving at it. Eyes watering over, dribbling down her cheek - unbidden. She had lost. “Don’t cry instead imagine it, tangled up in the games, the webs, and the limbs.” He continued, taking immense satisfaction. “But- you will always have one thing to your name.” Odette looked to him, silent - expectant to finish his thought. “You will have your ambition.” He smiled chewing at the end of the pipe’s stem. In that moment Bach was at her side, “[color=darkseagreen]Come, My Lady. Pay the grump of a goat no mind.[/color]” Gently leading her back into the meadow, The Faun waved, “Happy Birthday, consider our conversation my gift.” Turning away Odette wiped at her eye with her shoulder. “[color=thistle]I want to go home.[/color]” She said finally after a few steps. Bach turned to look at the Yew, his home. “[color=darkseagreen]Yes, My Lady.[/color]” With some guidance from Bach, Odette summoned a portal once more - exhaustion inevitably taking her as she stepped through the portal to her bedroom out through the closet. Checking the time and day, they had only been gone from Earth for the night and the morning sun came up again. Odette staggered to her door, seeing the light from her parent’s study still on and their voices as well. None the wiser for her time away. Exhaustion pulled but her thoughts with the words of the Faun lingered like the smoke from his pipe. Much like the smoke, it left her a little bitter.