My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
Maeve listened raptly, shifting between picking up sweets and sandwiches from the table to petting the kitten in her lap. Even Aidon seemed intent on listening to the tale, sitting up at attention, orange eyes wide and glowing. There were occasional flickers of curiosity and trepidation and even irritation when the cat witch lost her prize. So wrapped in the story, Maeve didn’t notice the other cat moving behind her until the resounding mrreaow sounded by her ear. She yelped, jolting where she was sitting before huffing out a laugh, pressing a hand to her heart. ”That was a good one. You got me.” Maeve laughed, flashing her friend a smile before releasing the kitten and straightening up, a devious smile curling on her lips. ”My turn.”
Dipping her voice into something cooler, soft and easy as she began to speak, Maeve arched a brow towards Seren, ”Do you know how the banshees came to be, little star? The story is truly quite tragic.” She began, placing her hands in her lap as she started to weave her tale. ”Banshees weren’t a common occurrence in Caido. The land had been free of them for many years. All of that changed on stormy Flowerbirth. A small Fae child asked his mother if he could go play in the stream and his mother worried for the boy, telling him no. ‘The waters have grown too high and rough, my dear. You will surely be swept away.’ Maeve paused, taking a slow sip of her tea, letting Seren sit in her unease for a moment.
”The boy insisted, telling his mother, ‘No, mama, no! I’m a strong swimmer. I won’t be swept away. I simply want to play.’ Again his mother denied him, shaking her head and waving her finger, ‘My dear, my dear, I cannot let you play. The water is too high and rough, you’ll be swept away.’ But the boy wanted nothing more than to splash through the water and dance through the rain. His mother’s warnings could not keep him at bay. So when his mother wasn’t watching, busy preparing for the day, the little boy whisked himself away and down to the stream he went intending to play.”
The room is quiet aside from the faint crackling in the fireplace, Aidon shifting around to the other side of the table to cuddle up against Seren’s side, dropping his head against her shoulder. ”So down the little boy went, splashing and jumping through the stream, but his mother’s warnings were all but forgotten. The little boy wasn’t the only one who wanted to play and the spirits of the wood came to frolic with him. They drew him deeper into the waters, goading and teasing him, uncaring that the water was too high and too rough for him to carry on. See, these spirits were harsh and cruel, feeding off the boy’s fear, intent on tasting it all up until his final fall.”
”His mother didn’t notice, until it was too late, that her little boy was missing and had reached his grim fate. Down to the water she fled, calling for her son, ‘My dear, my dear, what have you done?’ Her wails carried on, drifting through the wood, lamenting her son who was lost to her now. Merely food for the spirits who didn’t care if he drowned. The Fae wept and wept, tears running down her face, adding to the stream that already swept him away. Ludo heard her mournful cries, drifting through the wood and appeared to the mother asking, ‘What would you do if you could?’ She looked up to the herald, tears streaking her face and answered his question in her own special way. ‘I’d keep them all away if I could. I’d keep them from playing in this part of the wood.’ Upon hearing her answer and considering her plea, the herald simply nodded and said, ‘It will be.’
”With a wave of his hand a swish of his rags, the Fae mother wilted into a pile of bones. Carefully he wrapped her in his own special rags, cupping her skull in his own gentle grasp, ‘Keep them away, dear mother. Keep them away. Don’t let the children come out to play.’ So now when it rains and fills the stream, it is said that you can hear a distant scream. Trailing along the shore, wrapped in rags, is the spirit of a mother sometimes singing, sometimes wailing, but doing all she can to keep the children away. She doesn’t always succeed and many met the same fate. Now the world is filled with banshees, trying to keep the children at bay.”
Maeve finally finished her tale, letting out a breath before taking a sip of her tea. Not scary in the same way her friend’s was, but still a worthy story if she did say so herself.
Dipping her voice into something cooler, soft and easy as she began to speak, Maeve arched a brow towards Seren, ”Do you know how the banshees came to be, little star? The story is truly quite tragic.” She began, placing her hands in her lap as she started to weave her tale. ”Banshees weren’t a common occurrence in Caido. The land had been free of them for many years. All of that changed on stormy Flowerbirth. A small Fae child asked his mother if he could go play in the stream and his mother worried for the boy, telling him no. ‘The waters have grown too high and rough, my dear. You will surely be swept away.’ Maeve paused, taking a slow sip of her tea, letting Seren sit in her unease for a moment.
”The boy insisted, telling his mother, ‘No, mama, no! I’m a strong swimmer. I won’t be swept away. I simply want to play.’ Again his mother denied him, shaking her head and waving her finger, ‘My dear, my dear, I cannot let you play. The water is too high and rough, you’ll be swept away.’ But the boy wanted nothing more than to splash through the water and dance through the rain. His mother’s warnings could not keep him at bay. So when his mother wasn’t watching, busy preparing for the day, the little boy whisked himself away and down to the stream he went intending to play.”
The room is quiet aside from the faint crackling in the fireplace, Aidon shifting around to the other side of the table to cuddle up against Seren’s side, dropping his head against her shoulder. ”So down the little boy went, splashing and jumping through the stream, but his mother’s warnings were all but forgotten. The little boy wasn’t the only one who wanted to play and the spirits of the wood came to frolic with him. They drew him deeper into the waters, goading and teasing him, uncaring that the water was too high and too rough for him to carry on. See, these spirits were harsh and cruel, feeding off the boy’s fear, intent on tasting it all up until his final fall.”
”His mother didn’t notice, until it was too late, that her little boy was missing and had reached his grim fate. Down to the water she fled, calling for her son, ‘My dear, my dear, what have you done?’ Her wails carried on, drifting through the wood, lamenting her son who was lost to her now. Merely food for the spirits who didn’t care if he drowned. The Fae wept and wept, tears running down her face, adding to the stream that already swept him away. Ludo heard her mournful cries, drifting through the wood and appeared to the mother asking, ‘What would you do if you could?’ She looked up to the herald, tears streaking her face and answered his question in her own special way. ‘I’d keep them all away if I could. I’d keep them from playing in this part of the wood.’ Upon hearing her answer and considering her plea, the herald simply nodded and said, ‘It will be.’
”With a wave of his hand a swish of his rags, the Fae mother wilted into a pile of bones. Carefully he wrapped her in his own special rags, cupping her skull in his own gentle grasp, ‘Keep them away, dear mother. Keep them away. Don’t let the children come out to play.’ So now when it rains and fills the stream, it is said that you can hear a distant scream. Trailing along the shore, wrapped in rags, is the spirit of a mother sometimes singing, sometimes wailing, but doing all she can to keep the children away. She doesn’t always succeed and many met the same fate. Now the world is filled with banshees, trying to keep the children at bay.”
Maeve finally finished her tale, letting out a breath before taking a sip of her tea. Not scary in the same way her friend’s was, but still a worthy story if she did say so herself.
Maeve
