When The Moon Blots The Sea [Moondance Festival | Fleur, Nem, Vigni, Saeven, Callum, Robin]

---

As was his title, as was his self placed burden, he watched. From above he looked down at the assembled faithful of his kin and smiled softly at their continued culture. Despite war, despite judgement, despite corruption, throughout all of history on their world the Gaiyan had endured and so they endured still. It was a knowledge that would have brought a tear to his eye should he let it, for in their diversity he found true hope for the future where others brought him only doubt. He watched far and elf, angels and others gather upon the Leyline through their homeland and begin the Lunar Cleansing. While to return home was something he tried to do only when duty demanded, this was one of the few annual occasions he would never miss, for he remembered what it was like to almost lose his connection to the divine and he would never allow himself to revisit such a sorrow, such a growing cold grasp around his heart.

Sat upon the edge of one of Ilyanor’s cliffs, Nemarius was still in what he called his human form, a shrunken and more mortal adaptation of his original appearance, dressed in regal purples and blacks as his thick hair all down to rest on his shoulders as if placed perfectly for a painting. But within a moment he was gone in the wind. His form, his outline and colours all flowed into a faintly glowing white fog which gently ushered away from the surface as if stolen by the wind. A moment later however it’s course became more intentional, the trail of white fog gliding down towards the beach like a flying serpent and it knew to where it was heading.

Fifty feet, skin like glass containing a blaze and coloured with a subtle shifting of reds and oranges. They were a statue, a landmark, they were beautiful in their age and creation as were all the creatures of olde to one comparatively young like Nemarius. He had long known of the spirit of fire, as did many of his peers, but to see the on the beach like this was an honour in his heart and a comforting campfire against the darkness of the Gaiyan waning years.

When the smoke landed on the floor it effortlessly shifted into a humanoid form, approaching seven foot in height though still an ant at the foot of Vigni. Their outline was bulkier than before and the glow began to grow hotter in tone, for the angel knew he was amongst kin and so did not wish to hide in the way he did throughout his journeys on the mainland. Out from the smoke stepped a knight in celestial armour, Red and gold armour moving as if physics were only a fiction and fiery wings spread from his back for the first time in weeks. Though his face was helmeted and his eyes now two orbs of light there was still a joy in their glow. Looking up at the towering colossus the angel spread his arms and began to bend golden light into words of his own to answer the titan’s question. “Sit with me, and we may take part together if you wish?”

---

---

Massive red wings started and drew back. A fairy was lying upon a little flower, and the pollen had tossed her golden curls and sprinkled upon her crimson, breezy robe that hugged her in all the right places but also left enough breathing room for easy movement and comfort. There was a superficial vibe of relaxation about her, with elbows propped, chin in hands, legs elevated and crossed.

How long it must have been since Fleur stepped foot into Ilyanor, since she savored the purity of the clean air cycling through her respiratory system and relished the textures nature had to offer. She would have smiled more had it not been for two teeny-tiny problems:

Running into the family and friends she single-handedly disappointed with a dream and one very bad decision. To live on, not as a humble, simple fairy, but to be a star in the land of the great mechanical trash and pollution-loving supremacy.

Scarlet lips frowned at this, fuzzy lashes dipping as low as her will to associate with the other fae folk and such. But on such a sacred day like this, if she wanted to partake in such a vital ritual, she would have to take the chance, take the risk and seize the opportunity—-

“Look! It’s a butterfly, Bentley. Isn’t it pretty?” said the voice of a small elf child, who might have been going the same way.

—-Like the wild animal that so boldly decided they wanted the tiny fae lady as their belated dinner special.

“Bentley! No! No! No!” squealed the poor little girl.

That vicious, wild beast Fleur found herself trapped between the massive jaws of was a feature of a squishy-faced, broad-eyed pug puppy that gripped her a little harder whenever its owner thought to pursue it and chastise it further.

The kidnapped fairy’s screams were war-like, deep, guttural, and fearsome but to the ears of a petrified giant; it sounded like the cries of a chipmunk in the throes of passion. The pudgy canine wobbled through the cobblestone path with incredible speed and unusual agility, cutely sounding its grunts of victory whilst she chanted the holy mantra of ‘all the fucks given’.

If she was able to process anything logically at this time; she would have noticed she wasn’t in any real pain.

She was just really slobbery and closer to her destination than she liked to admit. Fleur angrily sank her nails into the rambunctious canine’s droopy flesh, causing it to whimper shrilly upon the involuntary release of the furious woman. She couldn’t fly as effectively or efficiently so long as her wings were wet, but she wasn’t above scaling the daunting mountain of adorable wrinkles to claim her place on pug pride rock.

With unattractive bulging red eyes and pearly whites grinding together, Fleur used every muscle in her body to make it to the top of Bentley’s head with a loud, shrill: “Ugghhh!”

“A sacred night ruined by pure animal instinct? Oh, please. That’s where you’re wrong, Bentley. ‘Cause these wings of mine tire so easily, and you’re such a comfortable mode of transportation.”

She coughed, holding up a hand to excuse herself before continuing.  

“Not the most ideal, I should add, but I think you will do just fine for this easy task. Hey, I’m easy to work with; you and I have a pretty good compromise— you kind of, sort of, maybe owe me big for ruining my everything?” She motioned to her own soaked appearance, a disgusted smirk tracing the side of her rosebuds for lips. Then she looked beside her and saw a lovely stand exhibiting simple attire choices, miscellaneous items for common use, and a flask of water.

“You've outlived your purpose,” she said humorously, betraying the darkness in her tone with a few indulgent, forgiving strokes of the pudgy pug’s furrowed brow. “Thanks, Bentley. You’d better run back to your master,” she added, “or she’ll worry herself sick.”

The fairy hopped off the canine, staring up at the young, beautiful merchant with a frustrated smile on her face. Eyes that were void of excitement, no recognition of her fame met hers, which instantly brightened Fleur’s peculiar mood. “I am in need of a bath.” She chortled, flipping her slobbery, golden locks, “And you haven’t closed shop just yet from what I can see. So, yeah, why don’t you hook me up, friend?”

Bathe in a cup or roam the beach smelling like puppy drool?

Bathe in a cup of soapy, cold water . . . of course.

Thankful for the person’s kind assistance, she made sure to handsomely compensate them for their services, as she emerged from the boutique of total convenience dressed in a black cloak and a white summer dress. She wasn’t quite able to fly just yet, keeping her wings open to allow the air to circulate around them; but she was so close that it did not matter for her to merely walk to the beach in silence. She hadn’t run into any of her folks yet, no fan turned their head to address her with an elated cry of her name -- things were looking up.

Speaking of looking up, she saw words embroidered in flame and bowed her head reverently. Being here made her quite nervous, but being here also revitalized her. She overheard yet another figure, one who was perhaps not as massive as the fire-wielding being, but still tall enough to intimidate her a fair lot. She was thankful she was no longer at her actual minuscule size and stood around the height of 5’8.

“Mind if I also take you up on that offer, sugar?” quipped Fleur, being careful as to not slap anyone nearby with her wings.

---

---

When Nemarius made his offer to the towering titan of flame, he had not made any attempt to look around him and gather understanding of who surrounded them both. But when the pleasant sound of another’s voice called in his direction, he tilted his gaze to catch a glimpse of the smaller, blonde women with vibrant eyes and stunning features. Reaching up with golden gauntlets he removed the helmet from his head, and with it the illusion which hid his face. Where once were simply orbs of light now revealed a charming face of dark skin and darker hair which rolled down from his shoulders. A faint glow in his skin as bright red eyes greeted her before he bowed in an almost knightly etiquette.

“Are not all welcome?” He asked her with a warm and hearty reply, not wishing to fully reply in a flirty manner though likewise having no rash desire to dismiss her in disregard for why they were all in attendance. While he had no recognition of her from previous meetings he could recognise the confidence in how she carried herself, the regality in her personality despite the more playful wording of her presentation. “I am sorry to say that i don’t believe we have met, miss?” He began, a question which would soon be answered by an ambush of what he assumed were familiar faces to her.

When the colourfully dressed elf approached them and spoke her name, a subtle smile wove onto Nemarius’s lips when he found himself better informed. He waited to make a reply but found any attempts unexpectedly interrupted further by the arrival of two more winged shapes. “Floo floo?” He asked with a quizzical look of confusion, one brow raised as the other creased and a laughing smirk on his face even if he didn’t seem to be unsure what to think of such a nickname. When both fae arrived properly he bowed his head to them in greeting yet did not say a word to the boys, instead looking down at the blonde women for his question. “It seems you bring your kin to take up my offer also.” His words were kind and welcoming enough but it as clear he was off guard by just how popular she seemed out of the blue.

As for the elf however he faced him with a more serious look as he listened to his request, thinking it a noble endeavour to gift for the spirit of fire even if his insurity was almost adorable in it’s consideration. “Consider any concerns forgiven, you are not rude my friend…” Whatever answer or words in general he considered next were made pointless by the response of the colossus in their midst.

Nemarius its a wave of his hand dismissed is helm into white fog which seemed to subtly return under the plates of his armour. And in it’s place he placed a hand over his heart, now speaking vocally to the giant for an introduction, one that the others would hear also. “I am Nemarius, son of Baraqiel.” Though there were titles, nicknames and false terminology he was known by he doubted any would be known by the spirit of fire and therefore they would remain unspoken by his lips for the time being.  Instead he simply watched as Vigni presented their own gift in kind. Warmth, security, the aura that filled his bones was a feeling both unknown yet reliable, as if a piece of him missing had been restored through the simple feeling of comfort. “Thank you.” He responded graciously with a smile and the bow of his head, as dark curls found their way over the neckline of his armour and sat upon the golden plate like legs dangled over the edge of a wall.

---

---

He had probably pledged more time than anyone else to the divine grooming of hair and skincare, but routine alone could not account for his romantic profile and smooth curls. One had only to look at him, from the slant of his forehead and the curve of his dark mustache to the elegant jawline, to appreciate the prettiness under the layer of clank and clunk.


“I guess.” Said Fleur Silverpine, turning her attention away from the shining embodiment of nobility with a half-smile, “It’s not like our names are branded in the sand, unless I completely missed the memo, somehow, and just sat in somebody else’s spot. Too bad, so sad. It’s mine now.”



Fleur, following the glance of many, saw with fascination that words had been written in the sky by the gentle fire entity, explaining that this was his first lunar cleansing in many years. The slim young woman, strangely quiet, with flaxen blonde hair adorning in glistening waves about her head, fluttered her bold lashes through shaggy bangs of gold as the cool night wind dried out her eyes.


She rose to her feet.


“We have so much in common already, big guy. We’ll hold your Herculean pinky through it. We’ve just gotta find you a giant red string, get you eased into the whole unity gig, put you in the zone. You feel me?”  She told the magnificent beast plausibly. In the middle of this imperfectly perfect gathering, she sighed with eyes cast to the heavens, and thanked her lucky stars she recognized not a soul, and a soul recognized her not.


The angel drew her focus back with a courteous question. The allocated request by Vigni was similar, only he asked for names. She didn’t want word of her attendance to spread to her family. She wasn’t so arrogant as to think anyone would remember her or even mention her in passing after tonight, but her grandfather had connections and his connections were vast and many. The perks of being so old, a valiant veteran of the war, were forever in his favor.


She was not in his good graces.


It was unlikely that she’d ever be.


“I’ve never seen you in my life.” She said, a little too bluntly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. The same goes for you, too.” She motioned to towering ethereal mass with an expressive nod.


And then she recalled the inaudible request of the giant. “My name is…” she didn’t want to lie. But she also considered the benefits of doing so. What were the odds of them ever meeting again? “I’m…”


“….Floo-Floo?!” came a demonic choir that swelled upon the stage of her mind, a symphony of horror being orchestrated by a masterful composer. The strings of their powerful vocal chords rising, pinching upon the painful threshold of soprano.


And through the madness an angelic voice pierced through the darkness, such a voice starting to distort itself in her head with a gentle richness that failed not to send a terrible chill tumbling down her spine. “Fleur? It's been so long. How are—”


The cast of the unwanted turned to address her, greeting the visibly startled fairy from all sides; for peace was never an option in matters of the unintended game of hide and don’t seek.


She couldn’t bring herself to meet the angel’s gaze with her own as she covered half of her face with her hand, burning a scarlet red all over.


“Floo-Floo? It seems you bring your kin to take up my offer also.” His tone was kind, but in her mind it served only to leave her in a mental state of disarray.


His introduction,  however, was the topping on the century-old cake that embodied her nerves.


“I am Nemarius, son of Baraqiel.”


The veteran her old man Garance raved about? He was here? They may not have spoken to each other, she imagined, but he had a reputation that was difficult to ignore.


“Is there a kick me sign on my back? What are you all doing here? Ok, let’s just excuse the obvious for a moment, I’m, frankly,  not supposed to know you, I’m not supposed to have heard of you, and I’m not supposed to be related to any of you! What are you,” she yelled at Vigni, “an important element of nature?”

---