Oops

[thecanopycrew]

It's still early in the morning as the increasing winds roar outside the little fairy homes, rustling the small balconies and gusting slightly through the crack in the fourth floor wall. It's nothing but a bit of bad weather, something the week has been full of.

...that is, until a deafening crack is heard outside the tree, only to thunder into the tree itself with such force that it shakes the whole trunk.

The air is quickly filled with ash and soot, blackening everything outside.

Comments

thaaaat makes a lot more sense! thanks!

[evantuality]

I didn't run into anyone on my way out.

[But that was a non-answer and they both knew it. Evan looked sidelong at Pitch, wary and puzzled, then took a moment to brush some of the charcoal dust off of his hands.

He considered for the first time that the deep unsettled feeling in his gut might not be constrained to just him and his immediate personal problem. To anyone who hadn't been excited at the sight of char, the fallen tree probably seemed like a threat. Certainly no one would be flying today, amidst the wind and the ash flakes.]

So if everybody is in a frenzy, why aren't you?

[isolophobia]

[ This time, when Pitch looked up at Evan, the glint of golden eyes made him seem anything but normal. Especially paired with that unsettling smirk. ]

Finally figured out what I am then.

[ The latter still disappeared fairly quickly, since Pitch is more fear than frenzy anyway. The surrounding atmosphere of hysteria made him feel a little lightheaded, almost giddy in a way. But as good as the sudden influx of fear felt, Pitch cold only close his eyes and take a slow, deep breath - soot and all - to enjoy it. ]

It does take a bit more than lightening hitting a tree to bother me.

[evantuality]

[It was less Pitch's inhumanity than the expression that had crossed his face that unnerved Evan. There were things he was missing here, and if he hadn't been in the midst of his own problem he might have been able to piece them together.

As it was, when something had Evan's back up, sarcasm was a familiar and easy defense.]

And here I thought you looked exceptionally perturbed.

[Pitch was unnerving him badly, but Evan did not himself want to appear suspicious. That in mind, keeping one eye on Pitch, he hunkered back down towards the pit of ash and charcoal he'd been excavating.

Now, though, instead of going for the embers he began to pull chunks of charcoal out of their moorings, put them in the leaf bundle he'd brought along originally for the embers.]

So are you up here to help me gather some new writing materials? [He said, dryly as he could.]

[isolophobia]

[ Pitch caught the sarcasm thanks very much, but he responded with a bitter nostalgic edge of someone who' been there and seen it. ]

Ah, if only you were a writer.

[ Pitch just crumbles a cool edge of charcoal as he speaks. ]

Spirits and magical beings swarmed around these 'humans', intoxicated by their imaginations. So many Spirits desired to get closer to these fascinating creatures that they started taking on their shape. You might be surprised how many less-than-mundanes there are walking about.

[ A jaded smirk gets turned pointedly on Evan. ]

Then again, maybe you wouldn't be surprised at all.

[ Of course he could come right out and say I know what you are. But what would be the fun (or fear) in that? ]

[evantuality]

[In his life, Evan has known of two types of people: human people, who don't know what he is, and nonhuman people, generally known through his mother, who do. He's been lumping everyone here, human or non, into the former category for safety's sake.

...but could this creature sense what he was? Some could.]

I'm not sure I would, given that I'm fairly certain you're not just an oddly-colored human yourself.

[Dissembling, he can do. That doesn't mean Pitch hasn't struck a nerve. Evan's heart is rabbiting.]

[isolophobia]

[ Evan's sass isn't appreciated. More reasons to only feed off the fears of children. They weren't given to snappy remarks.

At first Pitch's expression smoothed back out into dangerous calm, gold eyes glowing oddly. But it was soon gone again as Pitch grinned.

Evan's fear was both sustenance and like holding up a glass to them. The clarity just confirmed what Pitch had suspected already. ]

But we're not talking about me here, we're talking about you. What are you afraid of, hm? I know that you are. Are you afraid you've been cursed?

[evantuality]

[There was a long silence from the young man as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Having his own childish moment of paranoia thrown back at him almost verboten was just a little too much: he stared, wary, at the now-ominous creature before him.

Evan didn't believe in curses. The idea of a whole category of magic whose only role was to make someone's life miserable -- it jangled off of his sense of justice.

But then, at the same time, he also knew better. In the world his mother inhabits, there was much that was beyond the reach of his knowledge.]

...how are you doing that?

[He has to at least ask. It's obvious Pitch isn't just wildly guessing, here.]

[isolophobia]

[ Now it was like a terrible cycle; the more wary and paranoid Evan became, the sharper, and clearer his fears came into focus. And Pitch only smiled. With his black wings, and grey skin he was actually well camouflaged. Usually he would stand out. ]

You're sitting on a burnt tree branch next to a bit of hot charcoal and you're really going to ask that question?

[ Well that's twice Evan's made Pitch laugh. Not a very good average if he hopes to ever be left alone again. ]

[evantuality]

[Maybe to Pitch's detriment, that sarcasm jolted Evan out of straight fear again. He pulled his head back, looking offended, and then scrunched up his face in a scowl of concession. Perhaps he was holding tightly to his sense of offended dignity; it was more familiar, and more navigable, than the deep unsettlement that continued as a backbuzz.]

Even I know magic has rules. [His tone was sharp.] And I'm not a fan of having my mind read.

[isolophobia]

[ Still fizzing with mirth around the edges, Pitch was tempted to let Evan draw his own conclusions. ]

I am not reading your mind at all, but what "rules" do you think I ought to be adhering to?

[ With a lay (and kind of creepy) smirk, Pitch leaned back on one gray hand. ]

[evantuality]

Oh, no. [Evan inclined his head, giving the man a wary look.] No, I see a semantic trap when I see one.

You're doing something and I don't take kindly to it.

[He'd finished up shoveling charcoal into leaf wrappings and then into his backpack. He wiped his hands off on his now very cruddy jeans and straightened, heart rabbiting behind his ribs.]

I don't know what you are or how you know what you know and frankly I'm not interested in finding out. [Evidently fear dulled his natural curiosity.] If you'll excuse me I've got to get back to the tree.