(no subject)

[fay_morgan]

Sometimes, when, for example, sitting near a pure, untouched stream, it was easy to forget the untold horrors Morgan could see ready to unfold. She could forget she'd bound her milpreve to her forehead to show her commitment to sorcery and the fey.

She could forget that, in the darkening skies of the dusky twilight, her eyes wouldn't glint and reflect the dim lighting like a cat's, one dark violet and one dark green, revealing her presence and her nature.

In a rare moment of silly amusement, Morgan tugged on a blade of grass until it blossomed into a lily, with absurd pink colors for a wildflower. Let whoever stumbled across it think it some sort of omen.

Rustling on the wind around her clued Morgan in to who it would be that would find her gift. A girl, by the sounds of it. But there was something off... Oh, this would be an entertaining encounter. Morgan grinned even as she backed away from the flower and disguised herself among the fauna.

Comments

[audacieux_et_beau]

"I can mirror the sentiment." Helen murmured, drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh before she folded her arms across her chest, resuming the action on her opposite arm. This woman was odd indeed, but for someone meant to be long gone, Helen was indeed curious about her. And her abilities.

"Science. Not magic. Vampire blood." Helen said, fingers pausing, thumb resting across an invisible place in her arm where a needle had once pierced her skin to turn her into the immortal she was. "A long story, in the end."

[fay_morgan]

She gave a manic giggle, clapping her hands in glee. Vampire blood! Injected into a human! Oh, how she enjoyed the antics of the so-called scientists who toyed with magic while calling it science. How Morgan used to love alchemical experiments, particularly those that tried to turn lead into gold. Alchemists were easy to fool, and they were so eager to share their "findings" to each other. She let out a wistful sigh just thinking about the old days.

If Morgan closed her eyes and concentrated, she could see the moment Helen altered her fate - or perhaps embraced it; Morgan could never be quite sure which actually happened. "Your hair was much fairer then," she noted in a dreamy sort of voice. Almost trance-like, she gently tugged at a lock of Helen's hair, as if expecting it to suddenly revert to a blonde ringlet.

She blinked once, hard, and the vision faded behind her eyes. The smirk returned, taunting. "Uh, uh, uh," she half-sang. "You can call it science all you want, you can discover all the properties as you wish, but you can never fully remove the magic from your transformation." She could practically hear the magic singing through Helen's veins, that distinctive high-pitched note that was a cross between a squeal of absolute delight and a scream of absolute terror.

[audacieux_et_beau]

Helen glanced at the hand wrapped around a lock of hair, unmoving, but still slightly unnerved by this fact. Morgan knew more than she let on, apparently, through magic or visions or something - Helen didn't care to consider that at the moment. "Yes. I was blonde then. I've since coloured my hair red and now brown." She much preferred those colours, rather than the fair blonde she'd been born with.

"But it's science. It can be proven. Facts and theories and chemical alteration." Helen insisted, furrowing her brows briefly. "Magic is magic. There's no explanation behind it. It simply exists and occurs, whether in nature or controlled by those with the abilities to wield it, such as yourself and the rest of the fae, like the faerie folk."

[fay_morgan]

She raised an eyebrow, delighting even further in this discussion. Morgan could clearly see she'd unnerved the woman by peering into her past, just a glimpse to gain a tiny, insignificant fact. "You like the brown," she said. "You've kept it this way much longer than the others." With another playful pull, Morgan released the hair, content to find other ways with which to unnerve and/or confuse.

"Because you can explain and see the process, it is not magic?" she asked. She knelt down to pluck a single blade of grass, running her finger down the strand. She pulled at the tip until it blossomed into another lily. "You can explain how the flowers grow, but you cannot explain how it feels as it does. You cannot sense that the grass longs for the beauty of the flower but fears the sting of the bee." She tucked it behind her own ear, so that they matched.

"The fay control the magic that makes nature act as it does, you know." Morgan gave a sage nod. "I've seen them at Avalon; I've ridden in the chariot that brings the cloak of night over the sun. Does the sky darken because the chariot passes, or does the world turn and face away from the sun? Or does the chariot cause the world to turn? Is it magic? Is it science?"