Ill Met By Moonlight, Lilia

The wilderness of Georgia. What a regular looking place. Well, Vahnuk would change that soon enough. “Ahet vahk ael trooadeen. Voht ael kortah!” The old words surged through his throat and past his metal choker, the Curse-Speaker, and then things began to take shape. Completely illusory, but what could be defined as reality nowadays? If you could see, smell, and hear it, why was it any less real than what you could touch? Reality was the greatest hypocrisy Vahnuk could think of.

And around a beautiful pink and purple tree, elves danced. Sun elves and moon elves, enjoying the merry scent of liquor and flowers. Men, women, and all genders between the two, a representation of Vahnuk’s homeplace was here. In these woods, in this fake place, this was where the memory of his people danced. And so Vahnuk decided that he too would dance. And as the Baron of Moves-Like-This joined his people in their dance, beautiful noises emerged. Harps playing, women singing, men giving battle cries, the most primal of celebrations was being held.

As the merry band of elves danced in circles for hours on end, Vahnuk had decided that he was tired. For now he would merely sit and bask in the glory that was his mind’s art. “If only everyone could experience the world as I do. Perhaps people would not weep so, for beauty is intrinsic to reality. One must simply find the silken strands of truth and weave them into something more. The truth seen through eyes of sapphire, and the lie seen through eyes of ruby, both equally beautiful, though none can say which is real and which is not.”

At this point, Vahnuk had realized that he was giving a monologue with nobody who could truly appreciate it around. Oh well. With a disgruntled sigh, the Sherpa of Lost Paths decided that today was not the day for contemplations on the nature of reality. Because for now, he merely wanted to be happy. And if such heavy thoughts upon his enlightened noggin would make him cease experiencing joy, it would be best to reject them.

And so the sight in that little patch of woodland retained its strangeness. Dancing elves of yellow and grey, and the one who was both yellow and grey, all taking in the natural beauty of the world. With a little bit of enhancement of course. Who ever said only psychoactive drugs altered your perception of the world?

Vahnuk heard a tiny sound pierce the cacophony of joy around him. Elves stopped dancing, but the music didn’t go silent. No, it simply bent itself into something else entirely. An eerie tune, warning all around that this was the King’s domain, and not a place where humans would be allowed to roam free. He had nothing against humans, but they tended to ruin parties. Especially gatherings like this. No elf could resist a gathering under moonlight, and there were many other creatures that could not help themselves either. He knew that the pull of the moon was strong, where moonlight shined worlds blended. And even fleeting glimpses of his old homeplace where more than enough for his tired old soul.

The King’s domain was all that he saw, and so once this being was spied by his eyes she would be under his rule. And if she did no foul, she would also be his to protect and guide. For what king would let one of his sheep go astray? No king, for to be a king was to be kingly, and to not be kingly was to deny your existence. Moving away from the gathering, Vahnuk stared at the world, one eye blue and one eye red, but both seeing truth unfiltered by opinion.

There! Behind a boulder. The gasp had come from there, and Vahnuk spied a pretty little eye. Stepping up, letting his foot rest upon the air by the third way, Vahnuk rose. Looking down upon his newfound subject, Vahnuk noticed certain things. This creature seemed to be of porcelain, her features were as delicate as her body seemed to be. Tiny and frail, she was beautiful in one of many ways. Another thing was that she lacked a certain spark. The little glow behind a human’s eyes. What she did have was an aura of blackened trickery.

“Hail Fae of the Unseelie! Aet arn Fae kadar Unseelie! Privet Fae Neblagogo! Witam Fae z Unseelie! Bonjour Fae de la Unseelie!” English, Elven, Russian, Polish, and French. He hoped she understood at least one. He could rattle off more greetings, but those would take time, and for now it did not appear as if he needed to give her any further hellos.

And now, as he saw that the threat was not true, Vahnuk let his elves recommence the celebration. Music roared once more, men and women alike danced, and all was correct in the world. He felt like speaking some more Russian, it was a far more beautiful language than English or French. “Prekrasnaya ledi , my mozhem tantsevat'?” The question posed was simple, whether she wished to dance. And if she said yes all would be well, and if she said no? Then all would be well once more, he ruled not by force, but by consent. If a subject did not wish to do something, they did not, it was simple yet elegant. He just hoped she would join him in the air to take a twirl throughout the sky.

The girl was so meek! For an Unseelie Fae, she was really quite the charmer. Most of the Unseelie Vahnuk had seen were quite rude, and insisted on tricking his subjects into strange actions. Well, he had put an end to that back in his homeplace, but it appeared to be quite commonplace for Fae to appear on Earth. “How did I know? When an elf has lived for longer than most species have existed, he learns things. A knowledge of the occult beyond your dreams Hla Gahmerdehn, serves me quite well. Though do not make the mistake of assuming I am Fae. I am who I am, and that is not one of the folk beyond-the-place, or as you would call them, Fae.”

Still floating above her, Vahnuk gazed at the little woman. Hla Gahmerdehn he had named her, little princess. This name would resound through all existence, for it was truer than most, and if ill befell her, perhaps it would come to her aid at some point.

“My name? I have many names. The Walker of the Ways, Taker of the Milk, Sleeper of Demons, Bedder of Flames, Sherpa of the Lost Paths, Af Ka’Dul, Baron of Moves-Like-This, but the one you may call me is Vahnuk. The name I was given once I sprung from my mother’s loins. It should suit your purposes quite nicely.”

What was in a name, truly? The names his people called him rang more of his essence than ‘Vahnuk’ ever could, though he had always known that humans and fae alike put false value in trifling things like names. Fae would come with three calls of their name, but no elf he knew had such weak will. If one calls across the void to you, you would come, but only because you wished to, not because some magician was trapping you.

She lacked dancing clothes?! No she didn’t! Voice ringing with glee, Vahnuk laughed. “You do not lack the clothes for dance! Dance is about expression and living, and one does not clothing to express joy or loathing! I would dance naked, but I fear that the rules of decency here are strange and alien, so I make do with what I have. And you too must make do. A dancer would not be a dancer if he needed to look the part, a dancer simply is.” And with those words, Vahnuk floated down a little bit more. Letting his right hand brush by hers, the invitation to a soirée became even more tangible.

“And the King asks once more of Hla Gahmerdehn, shall we dance?”

“Lilia! What a wonderful name, like tinkling bells in the wind. Rattling skulls hanging of a tree, or even a flute played by a satyr. Your name sings of poetry my fair Hla Gahmerdehn.” Vahnuk had slipped back into Russian, the woman had answered him in the language after all. Smiling warmly, the elf firmly grasped her gentle hand.

Ah, so she could dance across the sky as well! That was certainly something, not all had the gift to walk upon air. “Still learning? You have shown the aptitude needed to walk upon the ground, and walking upon the air is no different. As a King, all roads are open to me, and the sky is merely a road above roads. If it makes it easier, think of the sky as a dance floor that you have to step up onto. Just a little jump, nothing more. After all, anything else would be quite the bore!” And with this, Vahnuk twirled Lilia across the sky.

Catching her with easy confidence, the elf smiled. “Aha, see! It is not so difficult after all. All you needed to do was relax.” Taking her by the hand and continuing their little dance, Vahnuk took the lead.

“So, how is it that a Fae appears to be so human? Your kind can warp to appear different than you truly are, but I see no illusion around you. Nor do I detect the faintest hint of magic disguising you. And so this leads me to ask, where and when are you from? Notice I ask when, for time skips around itself like a small child, and if you have fallen through some rabbit hole, not unlike that Alice I keep hearing about, perhaps I could bring you back? A King would not let one of his subjects be lost for such a long time, and surely your mother, father, or both worry for your sake. Unless of course you live here, in which case, what brings a Fae to a place as mundane as this?” Vahnuk’s Russian was tinged with the lilting ups and downs that were natural to his own tongue, making the language sound just a little off. As if he had learned it only through reading, and not through listening.

“Now then, those questions were quite severe. And this King is more gracious than he is wise, and so he would answer any question you have, whether you choose to respond to the queries above or not.” A King’s value was not through wisdom or power, but through graciousness and charity. And so he was always forthcoming in such instances, for a King must always be Kingly, and not just when it suits him.

Keeping the little Russian Fae dancing, Vahnuk watched as his illusions danced playfully below them. The scent of earthy yet otherworldly perfumes was thick in the air, and so was the scent of Royalty. Unbeknownst to Vahnuk, this little Fae was the daughter of a Queen. The Queen of Winter to be exact.

Aha, so the woman could just let go and dance! Delightful. Human? Metahuman? Words and phrases that meant nothing, such broad categories of classification. “If you have the sickly sweet ichor of humanity in your veins, it must be diluted. Your presence in the higher planes is too strong and too pungent, if I were to guess, I would say you were a halfbreed. I believe they call them ‘changelings’. Personally, all I would think of you as is dancer, because that is what you are. Just as I am King, you are Dancer.” The twisting words of this elfish prince were getting a tad too tangled up at this point, he just hoped she would understand him.

As her birthplace and time were revealed, Vahnuk nodded. She did indeed belong in this place. Unless of course she didn’t wish to, in which case he could take her to other places, but that might prove a tad difficult, if she was indeed as human as she said she was. They didn’t really squidge as easily as others. “Russia is a beautiful land. A bit cold for my tastes, but it still leaks with history and culture, did you know that one of your Russians once poked his head into my realm? It was quite the experience, I believe he went insane a short while afterwards…”

Twirling once more, this time narrowly missing a tree, Vahnuk listened to more of this woman’s tales. Her parents were dead, and she stayed with her guardian? Best not to prod there, she didn’t seem very forthcoming about it. “My parents exploded some time ago, they were quite enjoyable to be raised by while they lasted though.”

Cows?! The woman spoke of cows? Of course they had cows! How else would he steal milk? “Well yes, we have cows! We have godcows, redcows, greencows, and even othercows, but they’re all cows. To answer your second query, I am from somewhere Else, and to give it a name would be to do it a dishonor. It is strange, wonderful, and not at all bland. The world I live in is more shaped by imagination and wonder than by rules and reality. All beings are my children, and I am sure some steal milk. The people around us are elves, and they are naked because your insipid human cultural quirk of ‘modesty’ never reached our realm.” Vahnuk gave her a curious look as she mentioned wanting to know about the Unseelie, but he had to oblige.

“Unseelie are fae, and they are tricksters by natures. Not to say the Seelie are saints, but if you would compare them, an Unseelie would be a serial killer, while a Seelie would be a con artist. Those who call themselves Unseelie are divided into courts of Winter and Autumn, though there is little difference between their dispositions. At least from what this old elf has seen. Though do not trouble yourself, blood does not bind! It only appears to do so, one can be a terrible Seelie and a wondrously good Unseelie, you do not have to fear for the sanctity of your mind.” Giving the little Dancer another twirl, Vahnuk continued to think strange thoughts, as he always did. Hopefully he had given this woman some insight into her heritage.