Far beneath the summer moon, the green scald boy waits with anticipation for something. But he doesn’t know what. The grass is cool against his legs, long and unkempt as he strays from the well manicured paths of the garden. It whispers as he walks, brushing against him and creating a quiet sort of scraping sound as it rubs against his scales. He likes the feel of it – for it reminds him of the water’s soft embrace. Nibbling at the ends of it, he tastes a shock of sweetness like a honeyed sort of clover. The Night Court gives bountifully, and Pan must sample it all.
Deeper he walks, further from the lights and fairydust lanterns. Night sounds begin to fill the air, first quietly with the thrum of crickets calling to their mates, but they are joined now by hooting of owls and the lonesome cry of a wolf, far in the distance. Still too, there is a sound that is closer. It is this which calls to Pan, as he twirls to meet the approaching equid in the moonlight.
There are only two of them – the boy, and the queen. All around them, the world hushes until only the two remain… and he watches her quietly before taking one step, then two. Nearing her side, he smiles, reaching toward her and ever-so-gently placing his teacup muzzle against the cool glow of her scales. How like they are to his. Perhaps then, this queen of darkness has a story to share, some explanation for what was happening to the boy – for where he’d come from. The scaled boy is silent – his eyes, quietly pleading… lost… and he offers Isra a knowing smile.
Do you believe in fairies? For tonight, the air was rich with magic. Tonight, Pan would let himself believe the dreams were real.
Isra of the salted sea
“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.”
The darkness around her feels like a religion, ink and pages charred at the edges. Everything is hushed in the blackness, and the shadows are thicker when there are only trees to fold around instead of art. It's a blessing, she thinks, darkness and silence broken up by the hum of her lungs and the sound of water in Fable's lungs.
Each leaf of a low branch turns to pearl and glass when it touches her side. And when the wind blows they sing like a dream-catcher. It chimes like a bell in the darkness, taunting and sweet and something that Isra cannot catch even when she licks her dry lips. But she tries.
She tires so hard she aches.
It's not until the child joins her that she stops trying to catch songs and thoughts and dreams. Fable is the first to notice him and perhaps if it wasn't for the sea-scales drifting like clouds up his flank the dragon would have done something other than chuff to see the boy. Maybe it's the nature of sea-creatures to find each other, to blink at sea salt drenched in light and fragmented blue. Maybe it's in their nature to find each-other.
It wasn't so long ago that his touch would have made her shiver and stray back to the shadows and the cobwebs of solitude. It's that ache on her throat that makes her see a touch for a touch instead of a call to war. And so she smiles at the white and green-scaled colt,and her teeth look like stars in the darkness (straight enough to lead a clear path in the darkness). “There is no one in Novus that believes in fairies more than I do.” Isra turns to looks at him and something in the lost look in his eyes and the forever hope in his eyes breaks her heart as much as it heals it.
At her hooves each blade of grass turns to birch bark and ribbons and gold. They clatter and whisper in the breeze and the gold catches the starlight like a trap.
Fable leaves his bed of leaves and darkness and twines about her legs. His eyes, when he looks at the boy, are the brightest thing in the mountain pass. And if Isra had to name that look it would be simply the look of youth to youth, hope to hope.
“Who are you?” She says because she's unicorn and unicorns are forever trapped by the sweetness of innocence.
Pan is clearly pleased with the scaled queen’s response, his answer a throaty sort of purr as he smiles at the thought of fairies. Not far from here, the solstice festival is still in full swing, strains of music in the distance thick in the air. They add to the feeling of magic and mystery here, and as the boy watches Isra and her dragon pet, Pan’s ears involuntarily flick toward the laughter of lovers in the mountain gallery and the further jingle of gypsy dancers in full regail and swing. It was a magical place, to be certain… and despite the lack of ocean, Pan found himself drawn to the Night Court like a moth to the flame.
I’m Pan he offered simply, and the boy elaborated no further… for he cannot remember much beyond that. His memories had transcribed themselves as dreams – and while he could dream of faraway island with fairies, pirates, and gemstone flecked sand, his reality was much less magical.
Until now.
The boy watches the dragon intently, his wide eyes set with wonder as he follows the curious creature's path in and out of Isra’s legs. There was something quite catlike about Fable, and Pan could almost beg to reach out and touch the beast. What is he? the boy asks with wonder, grinning and trying to coax the dragon out from beneath his mistress with a pretty piece of purple seaglass from deep within his bag. He rummages back through the bag again, pulling out a silvered fish skeleton, in case the jeweled glass was less Fable’s liking. He’s marvelous! his words were tinged with excitement, for though the boy was certainly of the sea, he’d never seen such a creature before.
Staring back at Isra, he had to wonder how the unicorn had tamed such a beast – and making a quick decision that she must be a mermaid, he gave the mare a knowing smile. It could be their secret… Pan would never tell a secret. Looking around, he offered the mermaid a hushed secret of his own. I won’t tell, by the way, that you’re a mermaid… Your secret’s safe with me. I have a secret too… the boy lifted his head once more, but noted that they were alone. Late at night, I dream of somewhere far from here… it’s a magical place, called Neverland, where you never grow old. There are others in my dreams – some like me – even other mermaids like you! And in his dreams, the boy belonged – much more than he belonged in this strange place. But dreams were little more than fairytales, weren’t they? Do you think the dreams are real? he whispered, unsure of what reality even meant anymore...
Isra who is lost at sea “Stars are beautiful, but they may not take part in anything, they must just look on forever.”
The moment Pan takes out his treasures Fable is hooked like a slick-scaled fish. He is quick when she untangles himself from Isra's shadow. The tilt of his head is decidedly ungraceful. Even if Isra knew any other dragons she could not have brought herself to tell him that he's a creature made to rule the surf (instead of one to pine after bits of glass and silver bones).
Fable has already forgotten that Isra could make him a hundred shards of sea-glass and coat a world in silver.
Just as the dragon is reaching for the bit of glass Isra laughs and the bits of magic at her feet dissolve so that the grass is just grass again. She almost misses the gold and the birch-- almost. But when the soil at her hooves smooths out and turns to scales not unlike the ones on her and Pan, Isra doesn't miss the gold anymore.
“Welcome to Denocte, Pan.” There's a playful gleam in her eyes that was absent before when she reaches with her nose to brush his cheek. “I'm Isra.” She winks to hide the quick bolt of sadness that shivers through her when he talks about dreams. Lost. The word comes to her unbidden, born perhaps in that ink sea of stories and dreams that lingers in the bottom of her soul.
There is something to be said about story-tellers and boys with scales and dreams who never shed their youth.
“Of course dreams are real.” Around them bits of grass turn to glass that rises into white-foam froth. They look like waves when the moon shifts from behind a cloud and coats them in a faint silver sheen. “Neverland sounds lovely.” Isra almost says that she would always want to grow older.
But when she looks at him and thinks again of that word, lost, she swallows the words and only smiles.
Each of the words she doesn't say taste both bitter and sweet.
The scaled boy is entranced by the mermaid and her dragon, who weave magic into scaled grass and seafoam, seemingly at will. His eyes are wide with wonder as he curbs the urge to reach out and stroke Fable. The dragon was catlike, and there was something vaguely familiar about the way he twined about Isra’s legs. For the briefest moment, Pan has a flash of a vision, of an otter’s sleek brown body twined around his shoulders. But before he can analyze the thought, it’s gone like the wind from his mind. Besides, there were so many questions on his lips… it did not do to dwell on dreams.
Neverland is a magical place indeed… there’s a burrow where I live with the Lost Boys, deep in the green forest. It’s hidden away of course, so the pirates don’t find it… and only the boys and the fairies know where it is. He spoke with such excitement that his words were rushed and jumbled, but it was clear that the boy had so much he wanted to share about his dreams. As he turned to smile at the Sovereign of the Night court, there is a sparkle in his eye for the first time in what seemed like forever.
Of course… you probably know all about it, being a mermaid and all. There’s the mermaid lagoon – where the waves meet the sand, and jewel-toned ladies bathe beneath the sunlight. Their voices are so lovely, when they sing… like angels. Nevermind that their songs drove many a man mad, and that the mermaids were known to drag sailors to their deaths beneath the briny deep. Pan was little more than a boy, so they posed no threat to him, or to any of the Lost Boys. Instead, they were simply an enticing sort of pleasure.
Its lovely here too though, with the stardust and the statues. I learned about Caligo earlier… she’s your goddess, right? He left out the part where Katniss had explained that perhaps Caligo wasn’t worthy of their worship. For Pan knew better than to speak ill of the gods. He believed in all of them, and paid them tribute in kind. And so, the boy waits beneath the stars for whatever stories Isra wanted to share, eager to let his imagination soar in this new and exciting world.
Isra of the rambling thoughts
“Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part.”
Isra sails away on his words. It's a ship made of magic and words sailing on a sea of memories. She can feel his homesickness through his words. But she can also feel how much he loves his home and his clan of lost boys. Perhaps it's why she closes the distance between them and brushes her muzzle across his cheek.
She turns the air against her lips to salt and brine, hoping that perhaps it might remind him of home.
“Do you miss your lost boys?” When she asks the question she thinks of crows and orphans and all the fragility of youth. She feels a shard of fury running through her veins at the thought, but there is nothing to do for it but look him in the eye and promise herself later, there will be time later.
Fable feels all the things roiling like waves inside her and he presses his nose to her chest. That touch is all it takes for her to stop thinking of lost things and start thinking of boys with hope in their eyes and dreams in their hearts. She thinks of mermaids too and this time when she speaks there is a bright, youthful smile on her lips. “Someday we will have to see if there are other mermaids here too.” And when she winks at him something in her gaze suggests that she knows more secrets of the sea than that.
Isra might be a queen but she's still a unicorn who never had a childhood. All she had were nightmares.
Talk turns to Caligo and Isra, for a moment, isn't sure how to reply. She still remembers the cracking of her heart when her goddess left them in a field full of bones beneath a sky of thunder birds. There is still a sliver of worry in her that they birds aren't gone forever, and that her city hasn't seen the last of the sea.
“She is,” Isra hedges, pauses and looks away towards the bottom of the mountain. “I met her once but she left without saying where she was headed. They say the gods are still walking among us.” Her voice suggests that while Isra knows they are somewhere she has no interest in meeting any of them again.
The gods of Novus brought only destruction when they awoke from their stone statues.
He breathes in the scent of the sea, relaxing visibly as memories soar within him. Like a fish, the boy will always be drawn toward the water. One had to wonder if his own mother had been a mermaid or something similar… for the boy seems to follow the song of the waves washing ashore, drifting like flotsam in the tides and dancing along the soft loam of the seashore. Do you miss your lost boys? her question drifts into his thoughts, and he offers her a whimsical and reassuring smile.
I do, of course… but all I have to do is close my eyes and think of a magical thought, and I’m right back in Neverland once more. It was a lovely thought really, to be able to escape to such a place where imagination wrote the story. I should like to find other mermaids… we can listen for their songs. Nevermind that not all the scaled beasts were mermaids (for one only had to look at himself to know that Pan was far from an enchantress), but it was a lovely and romantic thought.
I know where Caligo is. It is a surprising thing, for the boy to be so sure of something he truly knows nothing about. There’s a mountain by the sea, jutting far into the sky. It takes some time to climb… and the path is kinda tough… but at the top there’s a place kinda like this… He gestures to the statues. That’s where they worship the gods. That must be their home. In truth, Veneror Peak wasn’t much to look at. He definitely expected grand temples and gilded halls, but what he’d found instead was well-traveled dirt paths connecting rather crude and simple statues. Still, the view was one that couldn’t be beaten. I’ll say a prayer to her, that we hear the mermaid’s songs again.
The youthful boy grins widely at his new friend and her dragon pet, happiness blossoming in his chest at finding yet another comrade in this new world. I should get going… Somnus might be looking for me. Though Pan was no longer a member of the Dawn Court, he still lived along the river in his cave. But I’ll come back soon… I want to hear more about the mermaids. I’ll have more stories to share soon, promise! And he turns, trotting away from the Night Court and their merry festival, destined for dreams of fantasy worlds and siren songs.
Isra who does not pray
“and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;”
Isra hopes that it is magic that would carry him away but a thought. There is no other unicorn who knows the dangers of imagination as well as her. How easy it is to slip away from the real world to a place where everything is lovely and free from suffering. Each dawn she dreams and each night she is happy to open her eyes to the fires of her city and the map of stars outside her window.
It feels like a rebirth to watch the dreams on his skin and think that the world, real, and hard, and hungry for magic is a grander thing. After-all she has her magic and her dragon to remake the world. She has fury and violence too, but she doesn't want to think about that right now.
How much easier would it be if she was only a secret maiden of the sea instead of a queen with scars across her throat?
She wants to tell him how dangerous that mountain peak can be. Isra still remembers how it felt to feel the ground tremble at her hooves. The sound of trees moaning as their roots trembled still finds her sometimes at dawn when she doesn't have her map of stars to guide her. Sweat still gathers on her skin like mist when she thinks of how easily the gods turned on them all atop that mountain in the distance.
In the end she only smiles brightly enough that he might not notice the fine, tense crease in her smile or the way it doesn't reflect in her eyes. “I hope she answers that prayer.” Isra moves closer and raises her lips to his ear. “But if she doesn't, if the ground starts to tremble at your feet...” She pauses, reminds herself that the past is firmly being them. “scream for Fable.” She wants to tell him to scream and shake down the sky. “And then we will both come for you.” It's the only warning she can bear to give the boy with dreams and magic in his eyes.
Isra pulls back and watches him start to leave. “I will wait for your stories.” She blinks when he starts to fade into the darkness so that she won't see the moment he disappears. Her heat trembles and she tries not to think of the reason why.
But when Fable hums a sea-song against her chest Isra's heart aches a little less (but only a little).
