Omake: Stamp of Approval
Halloween is getting closer. I wanted to let Alma go out and play.
[Warning1: Glaistig Uaine and her faeries are very AU]
[Warning2: Written in multiple sections while high on cold medication. I don't like the first half but left it in because it took forever to write. I'd recommend skipping to the second half.]
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Woman: "How'd you become king then?"
King Arthur: "The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. THAT is why I am your king."
Dennis: "Listen, strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony."
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It had always been the responsibility of the Faerie Queens to judge the lesser kings and nobles, to evaluate their worthiness, and to perform whatever actions were necessary to maintain the Song.
A new artist had abruptly joined the symphony in Brockton. Apeiron was an abnormality, playing a role that somehow managed to surpassed all other players. His Song was loud, darkly beautiful and deliciously dangerous.
Yet history demonstrated that Apeiron's Song was not without precedent.
Would Apeiron prove to be another Bres or Lugh reborn?
From a distance, the Faerie Queen observed Teacher and his enthralled minions with distaste. His was a lesser fairie, a scavenger and predator upon the weak and unwary, with little benefit to the Grand Performance.
Like the legendary kelpie, his faerie presented a fair face to the unwary. To each passerby the malevolent kelpie offered what they desired. To the naive child, it presented itself as a tame pony. To the lustful youth, it appeared as a beautiful stranger. To the weary traveler, it seemed to be a gentle and docile mare which could aid them on their journey home.
Yet once atop the horse or encircled in a lover's embrace, the victim found themselves seized and subject to the kelpie's will until eventually dragged into the nearest body of water, drowned, and devoured.
Such pranks did little to influence the Dream.
The Fairy Queen would tolerate the scavengers for now. If nothing else, their skittering about did, at times, provide some entertainment.
Like cockroaches, Teacher's minions swarmed onto each new piece of information about The Enigmatic Artificer. Awkwardly scrambling to crowd about the television screens when the news broadcast focused upon Brockton Bay. Engaging in fevered discussions about each scrap of data illicitly broadcast to Teacher from his remaining minions in the world outside. Gorging themselves upon fragmented reports about hybrid technologies, matter transmutation, and elemental-infused materials.
So many of the Faerie Queen's lesser kin seemed enthralled with Apeiron's work but ignorant of his nature.
Apeiron was playing a false role, merely feigning the song of a true faerie.
Glaistig Uaine remembered the near-forgotten dream of a changeling child named Ciara and the lessons learned from her mortal foster mother.
Ciara's mother sang as she moved about their small apartment. A lilting ballad about a man imprisoned for stealing food for his starving family. The haunting melody about the beautiful young fishmonger whose ghost haunts the streets of Dublin. The tragic story of a woman who marries her fiancé only seven hours before his execution.
Ciara had once wept at one of her mother's sad melodies, then tried to hide her face in embarrassment. Her mother had embraced her and showered her face with kisses, saying that sorrow is part of life, that tears and smiles and laughter are all necessary for the soul.
At night, little Ciara would cuddle under an old patchwork quilt while her mother told her the ancient tales of the Fair Folk and the Tuatha Dé Danann. The tale of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, who became the wisest man in Ireland by burning his thumb. The legend of the Cattle Raid of Cooley and how Cú Chulainn withstood the entire army of Queen Medb. The story of the Children of Lir, their curse, their eventual freedom, and their tragic deaths. The humorous tale of a man who scared away a savage giant by disguising himself as a baby.
Like her mother's songs, the stories often taught important lessons.
One such story warned that beauty could hide an evil heart.
Long ago, the Tuatha Dé Danann were nearly destroyed because they trusted a man with a beautiful face.
The Fomorians, a savage and violent people, came from the underworld to wage war upon the Tuatha Dé Danann. The Fomorians were greedy and cruel in their victories, carrying away two thirds of the children, grain and cattle as plunder while the survivors of their attacks were enslaved and forced to perform the harshest and most degrading of labors.
The war between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fomorians was great and terrible.
Eventually, a possible avenue to peace was suggested.
The majority of Fomorians were brutal and monstrous giants, distorted and malformed with the features of horrible beasts. However, some among the Fomorians were darkly beautiful, cunning and skilled in all manner of arts.
The Fomorian prince Elatha and Ériu of the Tuatha Dé Danann had a son, Bres. Bres was a great warrior, skilled, cunning, and of unmatched beauty.
Given his mixed blood, Bris was chosen to be king so that he could reconcile the two warring races.
However, Bres quickly proved to be a cruel tyrant and an unjust king who subjugated the Tuatha Dé Danann for his own whims and pleasure.
After seven years of suffering, the Tuatha Dé Danann finally rebelled against Bres. Bres fled back to the Fomorians, where he raised an army against the rebellious Tuatha Dé Danann.
When Bres returned with his army, he found the Tuatha Dé Danann prepared to meet him in battle, led by another half-Fomorian, Lugh.
Lugh, like Bres, was also highly praised in his youth for his beauty and martial prowess. However, Lugh had earned his place at court after proving to be incredibly skilled in every known discipline, demonstrating exceptional skills as a wright, a smith, an artist, a swordsman, a harpist, a poet, a historian, a sorcerer, and a craftsman.
Lugh successfully led the Tuatha Dé Danann against the Fomorian invaders, slaying his own grandfather and capturing Bres in the process.
Unlike Bres, Lugh remained faithful to his oaths. He used his wisdom and unsurpassed skill to enrich the lives of the Tuatha Dé Danann, improving their agricultural processes, mentoring future kings and champions, and instituting great fairs and competitions.
Apeiron mimicked Bres and Lugh in so many ways- in beauty, in martial prowess, and in unnatural skill. Apeiron was an abnormality in the Dream, playing a role that somehow managed to surpassed all other players.
Would he prove to be a traitor or a savior to the faerie?
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time jump
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The Fairy Queen felt an unusual jolt of terror as she once again prepared to investigate the aberration which had arisen in Brockton Bay. Her hands felt clammy and unsteady as she hesitantly moved into position.
The specter of Grey Boy smirked at her display of discomfort, earning a scowl in return. His features remained sharp and distinct, unlike most of her collected Courtiers. His hair was neatly parted, his school uniform crisp, his shoes glossy, and his gaze sharp and malicious.
The Fairy Queen took a deep steadying breath, held it, then released it slowly.
She had no reason to fear.
Two of her more useful specters moved into their own positions.
In life, Hexenringe had been a powerful shaker and mass teleporter nearly on par with Strider. In death, her vitriolic complaints did not prevent her obedient submission to the Fairy Queen's demands.
The scowling specter created a luminous circle upon the ground which glowed with increasing intensity as a portal to Brockton Bay was opened.
The third and final specter had once been a woman trapped in her own failing body. Her faerie had permitted her disembodied soul to wander the earth as a nigh undetectable wraith, an intangible and nearly transparent specter. Glaistig Uaine had collected her faerie before the wraith had become more than an local urban legend.
Glaistig Uaine closed her eyes as the wraith leaned close to press a kiss to the Fairy Queen's mouth. There was the usual burst of pain, then abruptly Glaistig was seeing her own face from the point of view of the specter. While she was puppeting the wraith, the Fairy Queen own eyes appeared to be covered by the cloud of cataracts.
The specter of Grey Boy saluted her casually in a false demonstration of diffidence as she prepared to send the puppeted wraith through the portal.
The Fairy Queen was in the odd position of being able to see her own face as she frowned.
Grey Boy's increasing independence and insolence was concerning. And he wasn't the only Courtier who had begun to show signs of disrespect.
The Fairy Queen puppeted the wraith into the center of the glowing circle while she considered the growing problem.
A lurching sensation and a whirl of nebulous dots of light marked the wraith's passage through Hexenringe's portal.
The puppeted wraith emerged into the dirty interior of an abandoned factory.
Thick walls obstructed any exterior sounds from entering the factory. The sounds of the rats and other vermin which scrambled away from her sudden appearance seemed exceptionally loud in the oppressive silence.
Enough light penetrated the dirty and boarded-over windows to reveal the rusted and broken machines which lay scattered about the abandoned factory. Thick layers of dust and grime covered every visible surface.
A fire had damaged one wall and a portion of the ceiling, fouling the brickwork with black soot and weaking the floor above until a massive metal machine had fallen through.
The body of a dead cat lay nearly at her feet, a feast for maggots and a buzzing swarm of flies.
The Fairy Queen reflexively caused her puppeted wraith to jerk away from the dead animal then cursed at her own nerves. The intangible wraith could not be touched nor injured by any physical object.
This was the Fairy Queen's seventh attempt to infiltrate Brockton Bay. Each attempt had been rebuffed more quickly, each experience grown more horrifying.
The Fairy Queen needed to get some concrete information about Apeiron, preferably via personal observation, so that she could best determine how to proceed.
Then she needed to determine what was wrong with the faeries of her Court.
Determinedly, she began to maneuver her puppeted wraith toward the nearest wall.
The distorted roar of a fire caused her to freeze in place.
No! How could she have been found so quickly!?
Reality warped and twisted around her. The walls and rusted machinery broke apart into flakes and rose into the air like scraps of burning paper.
"I know you're there." whispered a child's voice.
The Fairy Queen's vision inverted, light exchanged for dark, then reverted abruptly.
She was no longer in an abandoned factory but in the darkened hallways of a ravaged hospital decorated with destroyed medical equipment and dried blood.
The roar of the fire grew louder.
"You can't hide." the child mocked.
The shadowy silhouette of a young girl moved in the reflections of the dim hallway. One reflection revealed the child playing on the swing, another clutching a malformed doll, another strapped to a metal table and silently screaming.
The world flickered and shuddered, twisting upon itself.
"I see you." the child hissed.
The Fairy Queen flinched as her own face abruptly filled her vision. The puppeted wraith had been moved back through the portal to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center.
When? How?
Real or illusion?
She looked for the specter of Grey Boy but found the disobedient specter missing.
In his expected place by her body's shoulder, a young girl stood.
Long black hair nearly hid the girl's pale face from view. From behind the dark curtain, burning yellow eyes glared with intense hatred.
The Fairy Queen panicked, dismissing the specter of the wraith and swapping perspectives back to her own body.
She desperately scrambling toward safety. Unfortunately, due to the reversed viewpoint from the puppeted wraith, her physical body threw itself toward the horrible apparition.
Ciara desperately attempted to summon a different Courtier to defend her.
No replacement specter appeared.
The Fairy Queen whimpered and threw her arms over her head protectively.
Long terrifying seconds passed as the trembling Fairy Queen awaited her doom.
Nothing happened.
Finally, hesitantly, she lowered her arms to assess the situation. The ghostly apparition had disappeared without a trace.
From his slouched position against the wall, the specter of Grey Boy smirched. "How did it go?" He took a bite out of a half-eaten cookie.
The specter of Hexenringe cackled gleefully before taking a bite out of her own cookie.
Ciara wrapped her arms around herself and silently wept.
What was that demonic creature?
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Back in Brockton Baby, the malevolent apparition of a dark-haired child appeared next to one of Joe's clones, a small teddy bear clutched in one arm, and pointed to the nearby cookie jar.
The clone blinked. "More? You've already had two dozen today."
Alma scowled and pointed a second time.
The clone sighed and scratched his head. "I guess they can't really hurt you. Alright, but this is the last batch today."
Alma noticeably perked up, even skipping slightly as she followed the clone over to her altar.
The girl gleefully spun in place while she waited, enjoying the pleasant swirl of the skirt around her legs, as the flames transferred the baked goods into her personal metaphysical dimension.
Before she could leave with her chocolate chip bounty, the clone signaled for her to wait. "Remember that tonight we're having a taco party."
The girl scowled but nodded.
"You don't have to come if you don't want to. But you are invited." The clone scratched his head again before hesitantly continuing. "I know this situation is a little odd but we're all trying to do the best we can. Are you doing alright?"
Alma smiled. "I'm fine. I know what I am now."
"That's good." The clone affirmed hesitantly. "And we'll try to keep you safe and happy." He glanced over her shoulder. "Now, unless you want Garment to make you another wardrobe you should probably get going. Remember, taco party."
"I've never had a chimichanga." Alma suggested pointedly.
The clone laughed. "You won't be able to say that after tonight."
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Noted Irony:
"Wouldst thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?" — Black Phillip,
The Witch (2015)
