Ficktion Friday: Feylit

“This is so lame,” Mad groaned. “Why can’t people figure out this isn’t some random character re-enactment weekend? I mean, hello – renaissance. Medieval times. Get a clue already!”

It was supposed to be a Renaissance Faire, but as usual, there were the requisite number of Trekkies in Wookie costumes, Hogwarths uniforms, busty wench types, old guys with long hair and motorcycle jackets carrying hooded birds of prey, and middle-aged women wearing a surfeit of smudged eyeliner and filmy, trailing shawls. It was hot, dusty, and crowded, and the afternoon was wearing on toward evening. Perri wondered for the nth time she had wasted a Sunday at the RenFaire when she could have been at home, away from her cousin Maddalena’s scything tongue, not having to hear anyone nasally say ‘Prithee’ and ‘milady’ every five minutes, or try and sell her flat, warm beer in a scrotum-shaped tankard. It had been Mad’s stupid idea to come to the RenFaire and “meet people,” in the first place.

“And where are the freakin’ guys? I mean, real guys, not these chess freaks.” Mad glared around the gaming area. “All the hot ones are running around after the Court and their ‘fairy’ prince. I swear, they deliberately leave the ugly ones running the booths.”

“Maddalena,” Perri winced, as a woman wearing thigh-high boots and a filmy shawl glared in their direction, “could you be a little quieter? I’m not in the mood to run from Lady Goth over there.”

“Well, she’s the one who should be running. She’s wearing a WONDER WOMAN costume, for heaven’s sakes,” Mad continued her harangue, completely oblivious to the attention she was drawing. “And it’s July. Hello? Try October for that?”

“So, do you want to just go?” Perri asked desperately, trying to stopper Mad’s acidic tongue. “We can still catch the 1:45 show at The Raven if we leave right now, and Mom can pick us up.”

“No.” Maddalena sounded wounded. “Athena said we should come today – there’s a parade or something in half an hour. She promised it would be cool. She promised it would change my life. After we see what’s so great, then we’ll go.”

“Okay,” Perri sighed, knowing it was useless to argue. Athena was Maddalena’s best friend, and no matter what stupid idea she had, Mad thought it was cool. “Let’s …watch a jousting match or something, okay? Just ‘til Athena gets here…”

They watched a match or two, and Mad made a point of pointing out the fake armor on the horse, and how the lady next to them wasn’t really in period dress (“I mean, only the very rich had those wimples,”) and she had tales of the middle ages and how the ‘Ring Around the Rosy’ was a song about the plague, and how people died, wreathed in garlic, pox-pustules, and stench. It was Mad’s usually cheerful turn of conversation. Perri’s stomach did slow rotations over a gruesome descriptions of the horses killed in jousting matches while Mad hopped into the line for the churros (“What the hell is this? Were there churros in medieval times?”). Perri stood alone, bleakly, listlessly watching the crowd. Athena had promised Mad that the parade was right at sundown; Perri wondered if she could take her cousin’s company for that long.

A murmur behind her had Perri turning, searching for the source of the sound.

“I’m sorry?” She turned and saw a tall, thin boy, his face shadowed by his a hank of long, darkish hair, standing behind her. “You said something to me?”

“Don’t eat the food,” he said, turning to face her head-on. His voice was gravelly.

“Don’t – why? Oh, no. Don’t tell me there’s been food poisoning? I should get my cousin…”

His shoulders shifted, and he seemed to shuffle, shrug a little.

“So, what, you’re just saying not to eat?” Perri asked anxiously. “Do you mean all the food? Or just the churros?”

He stood, seeming undecided, and Perri narrowed her eyes a little, studying him. He seemed much more hunched than he ought to be. Perri wondered if she should move away from him, wondered why she was still talking to him, but she didn’t want to get any closer to Mad, who was arguing with the lady at the churro booth about the authenticity of her cooking methods.

“Did you not receive the instructions?” he asked finally. He had an abrupt way of speaking, as if listening to internal voices.

Perri felt her stomach tighten. “Instructions? No,” she worried. “Mad’s the one who got the tickets. Is there something special going on today? Nobody told us we weren’t supposed to eat before the parade. Does something gross happen?”

The boy stood up straighter, and as he unfolded, Perri felt like she had been rabbit punched in the gut. His back straightened, and it seemed that his shoulders were suddenly wide. He loomed over her, and his eyes were an ageless, silvery gray, wide-irised and startlingly clear.

“You are entering the wildwood, and you approach Winter’s realm. No one would think the less of you if you turned back now. Take nothing. Eat nothing. There is still time to turn back safely.”

Perri blinked, gawking, as a thrill of fear ran through her. He …he was… She blinked again, remembering where she was. “Wow. That was pretty good,” she said, feeling chagrined for her moment of speechlessness. “So, how do you make yourself look taller?”

The boy shrugged again, seeming to collapse in on himself. “My Uncle taught me.” He nodded over his shoulder at the tall, long-haired man in kerchief and hoop earrings sporting what looked to be a castoff from the Pirates of the Caribbean costume closet.

Perri nodded politely, hoping Mad didn’t notice the boy’s uncle. “So you guys work the RenFaire year ‘round?”

“Yeah. This one’s better than the one in L.A.”

They nodded awkwardly, and looked out over the crowds of people for a moment. Perri studied him sidelong. He looked normal enough when he wasn’t trying to come off all hulking Medieval Wizard – he was actually kind of scary when he did that. How could anyone stand being around the crazies in the Trek outfits all the time if they weren’t totally weird?

“So, are you going to … I don’t know, do something with your RenFaire skills? I mean, do you think you’re going into drama or something later on? You totally should get into Shakespearean acting. You really have… this …presence thing down. I could totally see you doing something like Macbeth or Richard the Third.”

“Really?” The boy’s grin seemed wofish, far wwider than it should have been. Perri wondered if he was laughing at her in some way. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“Hey, who’s this? Wanna churro?” Mad reappeared, temper sweetened with fried sugar and argument.

“Um, this is — ” Perri glanced up at the boy and smiled. “Who– ”

But the boy’s face had closed, and he seemed to loom over them again, standing taller and broader, and somehow colder than any human being ought to be able to stand, standing like an ice cold wall. Once again, his voice was deep and gravelly, and Perri seemed to feel it in the soles of her rubber soled sandals. “Don’t eat the food. Don’t drink the water. Don’t stray from the path, mortal child. And don’t be here when the sun goes down.”

“Oh! That is awesome!” Mad gushed, brushing sugar from her lips. “It’s totally not medieval, but the whole ‘don’t stray from the path’ fits with the stories of the medieval era. I like it! Are you with the Court today?”

The boy gave an exaggeratedly graceful bow, holding out his long arm in a courtly gesture. “Of course.”

Mad applauded. “You know, you’re the only one here who has any kind of acting skill. Where do you go to school?”

Straightening from his bow, the boy’s hand brushed Perri’s, and she …blinked. The world was awash in glitter. Shining gold particles hung and shimmered before her eyes, beings too small to truly see. She put out a hand to steady herself as she lurched, dizzied and dazzled. She exclaimed wordlessly, heard Mad’s agreement.

“I know. Wasn’t he a hottie? Where’d he come from? Did you catch his name?”

Perri blinked again, and the effervescence in the air had vanished. The boy was halfway across the field, joining a motley group of similarly dressed medieval types, lining up for some kind of parade or dance. One of them had a pipe, and was miming playing it, dancing and swaying believably.

“Did you see it?” Perri demanded. “Mad, did you see that?”

“Huh? Man, this piper’s really good,” her cousin said wonderingly, beginning to sway as she popped the last of her churro into her mouth. “This year’s are the best RenFaire people I have ever seen. And the churro’s are awesome. I’m getting back in line. Want one?”

“I… I think we should go home,” Perri said slowly, looking from Maddalena’s ecstatic, beaming face, shining unfamiliarly with a vacant happiness and with churro grease to the piper, who was dancing now, while playing not a sound.

“Are you kidding? Man, that piper is calling me,” Mad said, and essayed a clumsy, shuffling dance step. “I may not ever go home.”

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So. Not one of my best, but I’m about to drop from the packing, so forgive me! This week’s Ficktion snippet was taken by Flickr photographer IguanaJo, and will likely be written on by the usual subjects. Catch the rest at Ficktion.ning.com.