dream of fairies and summer
#1
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Skoll Haskel
533

~~~

There was no question that Skoll Haskel had an appetence for stories. He had been an energetic and lively puppy from the start, quick to learn to walk then run then sprint all over the place. However, even the simplest of tales would tame the little sun chaser immediately, holding him rooted to the spot and staring wide-eyed at the narrator until the story reached its conclusion. And he always took something away from the stories—a new knowledge for his young and expanding mind, an idea that he would either accept as truth or go to investigate.

When one of the pack members had told him the story of the Fairy Lights, the blonde cub did not hesitate to venture into that part of the territory. He was getting big enough to travel farther now, although most of his little adventures were not sanctioned by his caregivers. Even now, he was supposed to be playing with Hati and Lottie, but he hoped they understood that he had to see the magical phenomenon for himself. He could play little kid games later—the Prince wanted to see the fairies dancing over the wildflowers.

His soft puppy body wriggled underneath a root then sped past the other trees in the expanse of forest. This trail was well-worn, though, and he wasn’t afraid of getting lost—though someone else might have been. He could smell something wooden ahead, along with a flowery scent that wasn’t quite so flowery. He relied mostly on the scent as well as the feel of the path underfoot as he ran. It had gotten dark early this evening, as was natural for the late months of the year, but the darkness was the best time to see the fairies, he was told.

Skoll finally came out from the trees to see a field, his mouth open and panting as eager green eyes washed over the meadow of flowers and fairies—or where they should have been. Blinking, he ventured into the field, brushing grass and dead flowers. Where were the fairies? Why weren’t the flowers blushing with color? He’d heard of twinkling lights dancing around, of a sweet aroma that the fairies used to lure luperci to their home.

About the only thing that was here was the gazebo and swing, but it looked decrepit by the weak moonlight. Scowling, the Prince bounded through the flower remnants and hopped up onto the love seat swing, claws scrabbling as he only managed to get his front half on. After some fighting, he sat down on it, looking around the Fairy Lights fields with disappointment.

Skoll supposed that some stories were make-believe. He told make-believe stories himself, sometimes, and pretended to be a human or a monster or a hero from a song. He shouldn’t be feeling this sad about the empty fields and the creak of the swing in the cold, late autumn wind.

What he didn’t know was that the story about the magical field was true—though fireflies danced above the wildflowers instead of real fairies. But Skoll was a September-born child, and the warm nights of spring and summer was as distant a dream as the fairies’ lights.



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#2
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Word Count :: 3+ ^ gorgeous post there.


She had been travelling just outside the borders, and her exertions had taxed her. Despite having spent awhile redoing her plaits recently, Caspa had chosen to shift back to lupus, as journeying always went easier in that form. She preferred to loosen her cornrows before she did, as the long hair always retracted when changing, although still staying reasonably long and flowing, it was not long enough any more to need arranging out of her face. In this form, she had some semblance of a wolf-like gait, the kind of steady trot that didn't use up energy to any great amount. She was skirting Lunenberg at this pace, when she crossed a scent-trail that caught her attention. The pawmarks where they showed were small, but the trace reminded her of someone. The tracks led away at an angle to her path, and into a forest. They were alone, whoever they were. Caspa was by instinct at least partly a shepherd. There was no question of her continuing without some investigation.


The spoor took the half-dog through a tangle of trees, indistinct in the dusk, and she was unable to maintain her previous elegance as she was forced to wriggle through root-arches rather too small for even her slender frame - it was quite certain she followed a pup! After a short time, she came to a wider path and picked up the pace to a gentle lope. She could tell she was catching up to her quarry, on her presumably longer legs. When she came to the meadow, she was pleasantly surprised. She would never have guessed this was here, and even by the dying-back winter growth she could tell there were some rare and interesting meadow herbs and flowers in the vicinity. She slowed to wend her way through more attentively, but only recognised dead poppy stalks. Her long leg-fur trailing in the moonlit grass, she stopped dead seeing a large shape loom ahead - an ornate and peculiar building. This was a mysterious place indeed, but she didn't give it a second thought, having caught the gleam of pale fur on the swing. She was reminded of Elvira, but that girl must have grown much larger by now and the smell was very different. She trod towards the pup, ghostly white. "Out for a stroll?"

Image courtesy of ®DS @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!

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#3
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Skoll Haskel
327

Sorry for the wait.

Skoll sighed. He regretted coming all the way out here if there wasn’t even anything interesting to look at, and he only hoped that he would be able to find his way back by scent before the moon rose. His caregivers would probably panic if he was out this late in the evening, even though such behavior was expected of him more often than it was expected of his siblings. Sighing once more for very dramatic effect, he lifted his hindquarters and tensed his legs to jump off the swing. However, as he perched at the very edge of the love seat, a wispy pale shape strolled through the dead flowers toward him.

This had to be a spirit! Ghost stories were, of course, included with all the other tales he demanded from any adult with a working jaw in the pack. He’d always had a hard time imagining phantoms—and had confused a piece of floating fabric for a ghoul once—but this creature walking toward him was too ephemeral to be mortal. It had a willowy body with long legs, and flowing, feathery fur where a normal wolf wouldn’t have any. Even its ears were long and furry, tipped with black like charcoal. Its eyes were dark, too, almost hollow.

The boy was quivering with more excitement than fear as the creature floated through the poppies toward him. It addressed him in a quiet, feminine voice, and his green eyes widened a fraction. It had spoken to him! He quickly jumped down from the swing and stared up at the specter wonderingly. It smelled like Cour des Miracles, like any other normal pack member, but it was too strange and wispy-looking to be someone he knew, right?

“I lookin’ fer fairies,” Skoll confided, “but they no here.” He looked around at the dead meadow then back at the pale creature—and then, before he could keep himself contained any longer, blurted: “Are you a ghost?”



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#4
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Word Count :: 3+ tis no problem :] Killjoy Caspa...


When he hopped down she had to resist an urge to dart forward and catch him. She was not quick or strong, but her reflexes were honed and sharp enough to do so. Of course, he landed easily and she was reminded again at her very limited experience with pups. She had no idea at what age or size they were capable of making sensible decisions about the kind of things they were capable of, so she tended to be overprotective, remembering her own brother taking a headfirst dive off a rock when they were small and damaging his foolish skull. This pup was older - or wiser than that, at least. His eyes shone an indistinct shade of emerald at her, reminding her of the King, Vigilante, and that plus an amount of family resemblance on the pale-gold child's features was enough for her to spring to the conclusion that this was a representative of the latest Haskel litter. He had the same lively, vital exuberance as Liam, his whole body electrified with an eager excitement. The thinking behind this became clear as he spoke, and Caspa listened in dismay, realising she had been spun into part of the fantasy of the night that by all rights she should not let him maintain. Such things as fairies and ghosts had no place in a sane and pragmatic world. "Why would there be fairies here," she asked him, quiet and neutral - "and why might I be a ghost?" Of course, he must draw great joy from his imagination-fuelled view of the world, and those shining eyes proved it. She could not bear to dash his make-believe, although she could not play along either, for fear of encouraging something that in the end, would only prove to be moonshine and pixie-dust anyway, perhaps breaking his innocent heart in the process.

Image courtesy of ®DS @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!

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#5
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Skoll Haskel
235

Puppy logic! I don't mind Caspa bringing him down to reality a bit. xD

Skoll understood that there was a difference between make-believe stories and true narratives about something that really happened. However, at his age he couldn’t readily tell the difference yet, and so with the mind of a child he assumed that everything was true unless he was proven otherwise. His imagination was strong—frequent battles with imaginary foes or stuffed ones showed that. And his absolute thirst for stories didn’t help.

The ghost-lady spoke quietly as she questioned his claims. Tilting his head, pale rosy ears flicking thoughtfully, he simply stated, “I heard story about fairies here.” He wiggled his tail in the grass and added, “They come out an’ dance at night. All glowy. They like the flowers.” Green eyes scanned the dead field, causing his ears to lower and a small frown to tug at his mouth. He looked into the pale female’s dark eyes. “Maybe fairies goned ’cause flowers are dead?”

It was only after this tangent about the fairies that he remembered her second question, and with a frown he looked her over very, very carefully. “You don’ look like a wolf,” he said, “or dog.” His father was a dog, after all, with erect ears, a fluffy coat that didn’t feather, and a curly tail. That was all he could really base his judgments on. “Ghosts are white an’ flowy an’ pretty like you,” he added, grinning. “Whassa name? I’m Skoll.”



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#6
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+3


She wasn't expecting flawless logic from such a young puppy. He was talking a fair amount of nonsense, though, and she couldn't wrap her head around encouraging such a thing. Why was the real world never good enough for children - why did they always have to imagine things that weren't there? She supposed it was one way to play - to expand the abilities of the young mind. She always seemed to find a sensible reason for everything, and the stories of childhood were not exempt.


"Are stories always true?" she wondered now, wanting to help him to question his own logic, but sympathetic of his disappointment, her voice gentle. "Maybe there aren't any fairies." His face had already fallen slightly, as he inspected her with an expression she knew well, having seen reflections of it upon the visage of Liam, Robin... puppies from this land could never fail to be amazed by her appearance. She quirked the corners of her mouth when he continued talking, though. Rare for a child to be initially appreciative rather than alarmed.


"It is good to meet you Skoll: my name's Caspa. And if we are trusting our eyes more than our noses and our paws," Caspa answered him gravely, "I would believe you are one of the fairies, here to trick me. Because your golden fur is, how did you say it? All glowy, and you have come out at night - which is fairy time, not puppy time. Usually," she added to let him know she wasn't rebuking him. Of course, if he was here without permission and his parents going frantic, she might have wished she had. "But of course, you are not a fairy any more than I am a ghost. You would be dancing, right? And I would not be able to do this." She bent her head to give him a slobbery lick on the top of his.

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#7
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Skoll Haskel
400

He adores her. xD

The ghost’s gentle prodding question made his nose wrinkle up, and the boy was about to answer before she suggested there were no fairies. Quickly, as if her words could scare the glowing things away despite the fact they’d never made a presence, he looked around at the dead field. After a few seconds, though, he met her dark gaze surprisingly levelly with his green ones. “No,” he mumbled in answer to the first, and then, “Maybe.” He hadn’t learned to take tales with a grain of salt, instead relying on his own experiences to prove or disprove what he heard. With some, such as tales of the gods and the sun chaser he’d been named after, or the account of how the humans had disappeared, were too crazy and wild for him to disprove anyway.

“But maybe there are,” Skoll added, with a little childish wisdom of his own. He couldn’t prove there were fairies, but he couldn’t disprove it, either. Dropping some of his solemn approach to this, he giggled and said, “Maybe onna other side th’world.” By now he was just teasing her, though he was sure to think twice about whether an adult was spouting make-believe or actual facts. There were no fairies here tonight among the dead flowers, and so he’d leave that subject to rest. Besides, the matter of this lady being a ghost or not was more important.

The pretty white creature named Caspa said that he looked glowy like a fairy, and his eyes widened at this common sense. However, she’d versed her lesson in a way that he could understand, and he giggled first at the thought of himself being a fairy and then at the thought that he’d assumed so quickly she was a ghost.

Her tongue slurped over his head, and the boy let out a wail—though it was a laughing, exaggerated one rather than any cause for alarm. Quickly, he stumbled forward into one of her long legs before winding clumsily around them. “Okay, so not ghost,” he admitted, chin lifted and eyes twinkling. “You a funny-lookin’ dog, then.” He obviously meant nothing insulting by this, especially after telling her she was pretty, and his smile was innocent.

Tilting his head, he looked back toward the love seat and the gazebo. “Wanna push me onna swing?” he asked casually, before squinting at her. “Why you here, Caspa?”



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#8
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+3 He is just GORGEOUS. I want to smother him in glomps.


He wasn't admitting outright that the existence of tiny magical beings was impossible, but at least he seemed to be willing to question his ideas. That would certainly do for now, because it was not Caspa's desire to rid him entirely of delusion - he would only have the excuse of childhood for so long and surely they would fall away naturally in time, any misleading or harmful fictions laughed away even as he laughed now, a lovely puppy noise that had her tail involuntarily swishing against the dead-petal grass. "I am funny looking, but I am not entirely a dog either..." She winked then, though no other part of her face moved so it might have been unnoticeable. It was only a moment of suspense before she relented and explained. "My mother, she was a wolf."


She sighed. She supposed the answer to his second question should forestall agreeing to the first request - she was here to find and retrieve him, mainly - but what harm would come to him with her in this secret grove? It would take time to return home anyway, and a few minutes wouldn't make a great difference. "All right," she agreed. "Sit tight, though. As you're not a fairy, you can't fly to save yourself falling." She rose slowly, waiting for him to hop into place, and considered his question. "I was on my way home from the city, and our paths crossed." No point pretending she hadn't followed him, but she felt she needed to give a reason in order to forestall the usual sequentially posed questions. "Thought I'd better find out what you were up to. In case I was missing out on something fun, like a party. Something worth a puppy staying up late and running off all alone for..." Her tones were mischievious, though as deep and husky as ever. "At least we each found a new playmate, even if the parties and fairies let us down."

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#9
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Skoll Haskel
277

<333

Caspa said that she was not completely dog, and Skoll’s eyes widened as he began to entertain stories that she was maybe half a ghost! However, she finished that she was part wolf, and he laughed softly before lifting his chin. “My mom wolf too,” he said, excited to reveal this piece of information—something that the entirety of the Court already knew about the newest litter. He was proud to be half and half, though, seeing the good in both breeds that made up much of the pack.

She agreed to push him on the swing with a sigh, and he nodded quickly at her warnings. He turned and leaped onto the love seat, just as clumsily as before, but once there he hunkered down and did his best to be careful so he wouldn’t get flung off. From his new perch, he felt taller and princelier, and he no longer had to crane his neck to get a look at her pretty long face.

Skoll giggled at her mention of a party, and he looked around at the dead empty field with amusement. “Maybe next time,” he chirped before sheepishly lowering his ears at her mention of him staying up all night. “I big, I stay up late. Not all night,” he promised hurriedly, in case Caspa had a mind to tell his mother about this. Thoughts of his mother brought thoughts of the legend he was named after, one that he referenced as he added, to demonstrate his knowledge of lore and his body’s needs, “Sun chaser gotta sleep.”

Starry-eyed, the blonde boy nodded again at her last statement. “You better ’n fairies, Caspa.”



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#10
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3+


If nothing else, the Court was flooded with hybrid vigour. Caspa wasn't even certain that the King was pure dog, considering his size, but then some dogs were pretty big. She herself wasn't tiny, just spare. She was high enough to easily hold the back of the swing in her jaw, and back up a little before releasing. It was more pulling than pushing, but she favoured the strength in her jaws more than the push in her shoulders. It swung but gently, with an elderly dignity befitting quite an antique construction. She backed up further for the next swing, wary of rocking him to sleep. She didn't anticipate carrying a fast-asleep Princeling all the way to his village home. Nor did she really know the way. It didn't sound like it would come to this anyway - Skoll was claiming to be big, which he wasn't, and old enough to stay up this late, which Caspa wouldn't know, but at least he was probably past the stage of passing out and being impossible to wake.


She nipped playfully at his tail as he swung back towards her, instead of pushing. "Anything real is better than something that doesn't exist. Stories are only good when they make you think about real things in another way." Like the sun-chasing wolf who Skoll's name was inherited from. Caspa understood that that story had been made by humans, but wolves had always been important to the humans, it seemed, even before they began to shift and understand things like reading. That story had been for an older type of human, and to her recall, a rather brutal lot. It wasn't a good mythology, because it hadn't taught them how to live in peace. Nothing had, until it was too late. "Do you think fairies would tell each other wolf stories, if they existed?"

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#11
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Skoll Haskel
271

~~~

The love seat drew back then swung forward with a quiet creak, rocking gently back and forth. It was a lulling motion, but not one that threatened to put him to sleep. Instead, it brought an odd sense of calm to the rambunctious heart in his pale breast, and it suddenly didn’t matter if there weren’t fairies dancing along the blushing flowers. Instead the blossoms were subdued, desaturated, and for all intents and purposes the little glowing spirits could have simply been asleep. Winter was coming, and the sun had already gone, and Skoll realized that this was a time for quiet more than eager questions.

He squeaked when teeth lightly nipped his tail, and craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he listened to the young woman’s statement. He shook his head slightly in disagreement. “Make-believe stories good too,” he asserted quietly. “Not true, but still good. Like playin’ pretend. Jus’ gotta know they make-believe.” Childhood was a time to enjoy things like this, but it could go beyond childhood, too. One could argue that even celebrations and games served some sort of purpose, but he was too young to look into that. Sometimes things were just good, and you didn’t question why, like a collop of something sweetened after one was no longer hungry.

Caspa spoke hypothetically of fairies, and Skoll rolled his tiny shoulders in a shrug. “The ’oomans telled wolf stories. Fairies too maybe.” He suddenly flashed her a grin, displaying a bit of mischief and wit beyond his young age as he quipped to the nonbeliever, “But don’ matter, does it?”



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#12
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Well she had underestimated him. Here was the tiny Skoll, teaching her quite straight-facedly the lesson she had wanted to ensure he knew. She was impressed by the perceptive pup's words. There was something particularly engaging about the youngster: it wasn't just his fur that shone and stood out. These were the moments she had fought to protect, when a child could grow up free to roam and dream in his own packland without risk from outside. She would have agreed with him about games, too. Although she did not know how to play for her own enjoyment, she knew that going through the motions with others made them happy. And there were other so-called frivolous activities like dancing or music that also served a much deeper purpose. "Maybe not. But sometimes it might..." she mused as he questioned whether it mattered. "Sometimes stories are just stories," she supposed, "But sometimes the stories you tell end up telling you." She couldn't quite find a way to turn that phrase more serviceably, but she was thinking of the religious tales that she'd been told - if they had been different, maybe she would have come to believe in the wrong things altogether. Then there were liars, who told stories as if they were reality and sometimes even believed their own fiction. Even fairy-stories could waste valuable understanding on yearning for a mysterious and magical otherworld, detracting from the real one. Neither of them here was at risk from any of these dangers, though, she suspected. "That's why I think the truth is always best."

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#13
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Skoll Haskel
235

I'm running out of ideas for the thread, as completely adorable as it is...
Think we should start wrapping up?

The still-small boy might not have understood all of the words Caspa used, or the phrasing, but he could still glean a deeper meaning from what she said. His expanding mind was hungry for every word that dropped from her long, narrow jaws, hungry for the knowledge behind her charcoal-rimmed eyes. He was assimilating what new information he learned into his cache of facts and stories, and this lesson about truth and make-believe was something important. Or at least he knew it was important, though he did not yet know how; he was too young to truly grasp how much words and lies could affect others.

Skoll nodded at her conclusion, considering it. He personally didn’t mind stories as long as he knew in the future whether they were true or not—though how long he would carry out this revelation was anyone’s guess. At his age, one could have their world view flipped one night then continue being a rowdy, ignorant beast the next.

And at last the lull of the swing was getting to him, and before he could stop it, a massive yawn escaped from his tiny white-splashed mouth. He looked over his shoulder at her, a little sheepish, and mumbled, “Maybe go back now.” His bravado was forsaken for a pathetic, sleepy expression as he looked beseechingly at her, and then he half-jumped, half-tumbled from the love seat into the grass.



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#14
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Much as I love him and want this to last forever, it wouldn't really make any sense... so, sure :] can oocly end it with her taking him home if you like?


He was so young, so much younger than she had experience with besides memories of herself at a similar age. She remembered the way sleep could overtake you so suddenly, though: a pup could scamper for hours with boundless energy, then collapse with very little warning. Caspa snapped to attention at his yawn, partly because for a moment she feared he had dropped off quite literally as he fell to the ground, but there was a little life in the boy yet. She had to get him home, though, and soon. "I think that's a good idea. Your house is in Lunenberg, is it not?" Like the lowly subordinate she was, she had never even spoken alone with the King, let alone visit his residence. "I will come with you that far. A fairy prince should have a faithful courtier."

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#15
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Skoll Haskel
208

Sounds good. <3 I'll go ahead and ask for this to be archived.
Thanks for threading with me!

Shaking himself once all four of his paws were underneath him and accounted for, Skoll glanced up at the young woman and wagged his tail wearily. He wasn’t sure if he would make the journey back, but he would try before he relied on his almost scarily slender pack mate carry him. A teensy tiny part of him still believed she had to have some ghost in her to look like she did. He smiled at the thought, sleepily, only a faint upturning of his lips.

He nodded distractedly at her question, not really hearing it, already trying to wade through the dead flowers. “I live with Mom and Hati and Lottie and Daddy when Daddy comes home,” he mumbled, as if that would help Caspa figure out the location of his home. He’d likely perk up when they neared it, or perhaps his mother would be out looking for him at that hour.

He bumped against one of her stilt-like legs as he tried to walk then shook his head and pressed onward determinedly. “Lesgo,” he agreed to her offer. Remembering his manners, his tail wiggling over his back in delight, he added fervently, “Thank you fer talkin’ with me, Caspa. Sorry you not find a party.”



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