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Blood Bubonic Psychopath
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Joined: May 2007
Posts: 3,197
Location: The Northern Capitol
Karma: 87 |  | [Short Story] Shine Brightly
« Thread Started on Oct 22, 2009, 2:17am » | |
Not much to say about this one. Twinkle is a crow fairy who does not get along well in fairy society, so he left... but he doesn't get along well in human society either. Luckily he has a friend to help him. Also this story sucks hardcore. I'm working my way through a bad writing block, so bare with me.
Twinkle (C) me.
Dahlia (C) Astrid.
~~~~~
This was humiliating.
I sat in her ivory bathtub, shuddering in the warm water- it may be warm, but the air was freezing. The water barely covered my hips, so much skin exposed. “Hurry up.” I felt it draw from me quite annoyed. “It's cold.”
“I didn't notice,” she returned. Dahlia never seemed to notice such things. I suppose being dead would do that to you! However, she opened the spigot again, letting more water in. “Just hush, Twinkle. You'll be good and clean in no time.”
“I'll just be filthy again in a few hours,” I assured. “Living in the woods and all. It's raining.”
“Oh, no you won't.” Her voice was firm, yet comforting, but took the situation out of my hands. “I don't have time to clean you up again before your interview tomorrow, and you'll never get a job being so filthy.”
Well, the water was a bit brownish. I heaved a sigh, relenting in that she was quite possibly probably right.
Her petite hands lathered flower-scented soap into my hair, and she barely grimaced. “This won't do either. I'll have to give it a cut tonight.”
“It is cut,” I protested, already knowing by the small recession in my voice that I'd lost.
“Looks like a blind man did it.” she returned. She shut off the spout, sighing. “I'll do my best to trim it more professionally.”
“I did it,” I replied almost indignantly.
“Are you blind?”
I sighed.
“This is for your own good, Twinkle.” Dahlia said with promise flittering in her tone; she tilted my head back. I shut my eyes, water pouring down over my hair. It caressed like hundreds of tiny fingers. As I opened my eyes, though, I was greeted by a disgusted expression on her face.
“What.” I barely could hold in the annoyance.
“That's disgusting!” She began to soap up my hair again, the suds frothing a light tan in her hands. “There's so much dirt and shit in here. Twinkle, do you even know how to bathe?”
“Yes,” I replied. My shoulders slumped up and I in turn slumped down; I felt the waves of water rinse it again, and this time it ran relatively clean.
“You wouldn't know it. Really, you ought to take better care of yourself.” Dahlia ran some more water through; it ran clean this time, fully, and now she was satisfied. “Here, do the rest.” She handed me a bar of soap; she stood and hoisted her body to the small hand sink, her high heels clicking against the white surface.
I stood, beginning to wash myself the rest of the way. “Dahlia, you say this like it's fully possible for a man like myself to find easy sources of soap and clean water.” Rubbing it about my chest, I gave her a bit of a sideways glance, judging her expression. “I bathe in the lake when I get a chance. Usually not even in my real form.” Many times it was simply not easy to get away as a naked man in the woods. A bird is much less conspicuous.
She sighed, and nothing more. “And that's why you need a job. So you can get a house, outside of that town that kicked you out-”
“I left.” I interrupted.
“Whatever, whatever, that you left.” she said, almost flustered with frustration. It was my turn to sigh now. I knew better than to push her too far, and fell silent for now. “And so you can live without worries. Eat regular meals and stay clean.”
“I know.” I replied, rinsing myself with some clean water from the tap.
“You're not an ugly man, either.” Dahlia said, teasing in her voice.
I turned and glared at her now, feeling my face warm as the rage started already. “Now you're simply being cruel.”
“I mean it.” she said. “Look at you. You're tall and you have muscles and...” Pausing a moment, she pondered her words. “Relatively... nice hair. And it's such a nice colour.” I knew I wasn't her type. After all, her boyfriend... husband... whatever, he was of the tall and skinny type, with curls to his small. Not like me at all.
Giving a frustrated sigh, I finished washing myself, rinsing off. The water was rather dark by now. Unfortunately, Dahlia was quite right. I was disgustingly filthy.
It felt good to be so clean for once.
Stepping out from the tub, I grabbed up the towel and began to dry myself. “Do you really think I'll get the job?” I asked.
“Most certainly,” Dahlia replied. “As long as you don't steal anything shiny.”
“That will be most hard.” I told her.
“Try.” Dahlia hopped off the sink, and walked off, the heels of her shoes clicking; she then came back with a large shirt and some loose pants, and what she's told me were called boxers, offering them to me. “Here, put these on.”
I took them and looked over them. They were clearly brand new. I don't really know much of humans or their clothing, but I do know that these aren't that fancy. However, they looked warm, and they looked comfortable, so I accepted them. I pulled on the boxers, then the pants and shirt, and bowed my head slightly. “Thank you, Dahlia.”
Grinning almost maniacally, she produced a pair of scissors and a comb from behind her back, likely from the pockets in her dress, and motioned to the toilet. I sighed and sat, and she took place besides me. Combing commenced.
I allowed her to work. After some pressing silence, though, I had to ask. “Dahlia, do you really think I can do this?”
“Yes,” she said, voice firm. “I do. I'm not even alive and I do fine.”
I had to admit defeat, though, as proud and independent as I am. “Dahlia, teach me to be good enough to survive here.”
She stopped combing. Leaning in, Dahlia's eyes locked mine, and she gave the sweetest bit of assurance just with her confident look. “Trust me, Twinkle. When I'm done with you, you're not just going to live here. You're going to thrive. You're going to shine so brightly that people can't bare to look at you.”
And with that she began to hum and fix up my tattered hair.
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"Twincest" is the opposite of "princess".
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