Brigit's Flame February entry #1: Weirdlings
Brigits Flame February 2010 Entry #1
Prompt: Birds of a Feather
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 855
Teaser: Two young girls with a mysterious legacy forge a magnetic, ill-fated connection.
Weirdlings
April exhaled its warm and fragrant breath across the valley in the mountains, carrying with it the scent of new green and the early lilac on the borders of the village commons. Children filled the ankle high grassy expanse of the commons now, fresh from the old hickory cabin that served as the town’s school. Many brandished Crosse sticks, with their wicker baskets on the end, and the leather ball was in the air. Each member of the two teams of five darted here and there across the field in pursuit, while their leaders shouted commands.
“Mae, Ashton, watch Jack! Tall fella’s got a reach!”
At the sound of her brother’s name, Maristat glanced up from her perch on the fence in front of Verden’s meeting hall. It was Ruston Walsh calling him. Rusty was the leader of Ashton’s team, a position that came natural to the handsome, long-legged boy. He didn’t need to warn Ashton about Jack, whom her brother called the “Freckled Giant”. They were rivals in most sports. Whenever they were on the field together, Ash would always be watching Jack.
The breeze teased Mari’s shoulder-length, dark hair even as it tousled her brother’s as he dashed across the field in pursuit of the ball and Jack. Mae, his lithe female teammate, loped close behind, a fallow deer following her buck. Mari wondered when Ash would notice Mae was completely smitten. Maybe never. He was always like that, unfettered by even the consequences of his own wild charisma. This moment was a perfect picture of Ash, a portrait of him etched in time. Sun glinting off raven black hair and flashing eye and grinning teeth, dogging a devout rival at the behest of his dashing best friend, a devoted and pretty girl in tow.
And, too, this was a perfect picture of Maristat, watching from afar. When she was true to herself, she admitted she never really liked to play with a team, even Rusty’s team. Unlike Ash, she could never seem to catch the pulse of the group, work it or make her place in it. She was the wind, always just passing through.
Her gaze traveled up the field, beyond the cropped grass to where it grew higher by the schoolhouse. Under the schoolhouse oak, another young girl sat reading. She was pale, like the witches’ moon when it hung sick and wane yellow in the sky. Faded, but vaguely luminescent. It was as though she had foxfire under her skin and hiding in her long hair. But this was only to eyes like Mari’s, the eyes of another weirdling.
Ashton must have seen it, too, and her other brother Lex; but they kept quiet. No one talked to or about Adelle, usually. If they did, they often gave her another name. The ghost. The vampyre. The one who should not have survived. Most often, if one had to call her something she was simply referred to as “the pale sister”. Like Mari, she had not been born alone. Adelle had a twin, Circe, as shining and alive as she was halfway in the grave. The smaller, fragile sister had been a surprise, much as Mari’s own mother had not been known to be carrying triplets until she and her brothers were born. Unexpected children were often suspected to be weirdlings.
As though she knew gaze and thoughts were on her, Adelle glanced up. Green eyes the color of the glowing forest lichen pierced Maristat’s own. It was too far to see them clearly, but she knew their detail well. Often Adelle stalked people with those eerie, hungry eyes. They fascinated Mari.
She found herself sliding from the rough, unfinished crossbar to land nimbly on her feet. She loved moving like that, light as air. Maybe there were things Adelle loved, too, kinships to earth or sky that only they could understand. Only weirdlings. The distance closed between them before Mari even realized she was walking. Soon, she stood over the other girl beneath the old oak. The shade seemed to deepen where Adelle lounged among the roots, taking on a palpable texture. It was soft and fluid, like velvet cloth. Maristat stared, mesmerized. Then Adelle looked up from her book.
Mari had only seen her in glimpses, never stared too long this close. It was rude; besides, Lex would never have approved. It drew Adelle’s attention to her, which would in turn set people thinking about the Corvines’ own otherness. Now, she found she could not help herself. In its own way, Adelle’s face was incredibly beautiful.
Her cheek bones had a high angle to them, visible beneath a skin that shimmered slightly. Adelle’s mouth quirked in a wickedly charming smile; but it seemed awkward, as if it were something she didn’t do often. Her eyes were set in her skull like pearls, seeming a little too large for their sockets. They fixed on Mari, ravenous, and Adelle spoke with a whisper that reminded her of the wind on Harrowaithe Hill in autumn. The words were an exclamation of sudden recognition, breathy and shuddering with delight.
“You’re like me!”
next chapter- Weirdlings: Witch Hole Pt 1
Prompt: Birds of a Feather
Genre: Fantasy
Word Count: 855
Teaser: Two young girls with a mysterious legacy forge a magnetic, ill-fated connection.
Weirdlings
April exhaled its warm and fragrant breath across the valley in the mountains, carrying with it the scent of new green and the early lilac on the borders of the village commons. Children filled the ankle high grassy expanse of the commons now, fresh from the old hickory cabin that served as the town’s school. Many brandished Crosse sticks, with their wicker baskets on the end, and the leather ball was in the air. Each member of the two teams of five darted here and there across the field in pursuit, while their leaders shouted commands.
“Mae, Ashton, watch Jack! Tall fella’s got a reach!”
At the sound of her brother’s name, Maristat glanced up from her perch on the fence in front of Verden’s meeting hall. It was Ruston Walsh calling him. Rusty was the leader of Ashton’s team, a position that came natural to the handsome, long-legged boy. He didn’t need to warn Ashton about Jack, whom her brother called the “Freckled Giant”. They were rivals in most sports. Whenever they were on the field together, Ash would always be watching Jack.
The breeze teased Mari’s shoulder-length, dark hair even as it tousled her brother’s as he dashed across the field in pursuit of the ball and Jack. Mae, his lithe female teammate, loped close behind, a fallow deer following her buck. Mari wondered when Ash would notice Mae was completely smitten. Maybe never. He was always like that, unfettered by even the consequences of his own wild charisma. This moment was a perfect picture of Ash, a portrait of him etched in time. Sun glinting off raven black hair and flashing eye and grinning teeth, dogging a devout rival at the behest of his dashing best friend, a devoted and pretty girl in tow.
And, too, this was a perfect picture of Maristat, watching from afar. When she was true to herself, she admitted she never really liked to play with a team, even Rusty’s team. Unlike Ash, she could never seem to catch the pulse of the group, work it or make her place in it. She was the wind, always just passing through.
Her gaze traveled up the field, beyond the cropped grass to where it grew higher by the schoolhouse. Under the schoolhouse oak, another young girl sat reading. She was pale, like the witches’ moon when it hung sick and wane yellow in the sky. Faded, but vaguely luminescent. It was as though she had foxfire under her skin and hiding in her long hair. But this was only to eyes like Mari’s, the eyes of another weirdling.
Ashton must have seen it, too, and her other brother Lex; but they kept quiet. No one talked to or about Adelle, usually. If they did, they often gave her another name. The ghost. The vampyre. The one who should not have survived. Most often, if one had to call her something she was simply referred to as “the pale sister”. Like Mari, she had not been born alone. Adelle had a twin, Circe, as shining and alive as she was halfway in the grave. The smaller, fragile sister had been a surprise, much as Mari’s own mother had not been known to be carrying triplets until she and her brothers were born. Unexpected children were often suspected to be weirdlings.
As though she knew gaze and thoughts were on her, Adelle glanced up. Green eyes the color of the glowing forest lichen pierced Maristat’s own. It was too far to see them clearly, but she knew their detail well. Often Adelle stalked people with those eerie, hungry eyes. They fascinated Mari.
She found herself sliding from the rough, unfinished crossbar to land nimbly on her feet. She loved moving like that, light as air. Maybe there were things Adelle loved, too, kinships to earth or sky that only they could understand. Only weirdlings. The distance closed between them before Mari even realized she was walking. Soon, she stood over the other girl beneath the old oak. The shade seemed to deepen where Adelle lounged among the roots, taking on a palpable texture. It was soft and fluid, like velvet cloth. Maristat stared, mesmerized. Then Adelle looked up from her book.
Mari had only seen her in glimpses, never stared too long this close. It was rude; besides, Lex would never have approved. It drew Adelle’s attention to her, which would in turn set people thinking about the Corvines’ own otherness. Now, she found she could not help herself. In its own way, Adelle’s face was incredibly beautiful.
Her cheek bones had a high angle to them, visible beneath a skin that shimmered slightly. Adelle’s mouth quirked in a wickedly charming smile; but it seemed awkward, as if it were something she didn’t do often. Her eyes were set in her skull like pearls, seeming a little too large for their sockets. They fixed on Mari, ravenous, and Adelle spoke with a whisper that reminded her of the wind on Harrowaithe Hill in autumn. The words were an exclamation of sudden recognition, breathy and shuddering with delight.
“You’re like me!”
next chapter- Weirdlings: Witch Hole Pt 1