Brigits Flame Entry: Alfred, Future Unseelie
Formal introduction into the Good Folks Court took seven years by human accounting, required endless visitations to all the toadstool homes of the commoners, and at the end of it all, one had to learn how to dance and sing in a ritualized procession into the Good Folks Court's parliament, called the Good Hall For Discourse and Datcourse.
When Alfred initially balked at the dancing lessons, a Painted Lady butterfly took him aside to explain that the building was whimsical in nature. "If you imagine its numerous, confusing hallways as a pile of spaghetti, it'd serve you better than thinking of it as a maze," it said somberly. The dance was to help him memorize how to navigate its irrational pathways.
And so, reluctantly, Alfred learned the dance and practiced his prancing and singing, telling himself all the while that at the end of all this was the blessing of fairy peerage. Once he was officially part of the Good Folks Court, Alfred would become immortal, invulnerable, a magician by nature rather than by learning, and lose two-sevenths of his sanity. But even the other humans-turned-fairies, the so-called Magical Mundanes, agreed that the payout was worth the price of the process.
"They call it our UnSeelying," said Miriam, giggling. Miriam was one of his patrons.
The problem was, the Good Folks were suspicious, capricious creatures, prone to overreaction. Every time he thought they were about to reach their big finish, high-kicks and jazz hands and all, something interrupted and disrupted them. As the Queen Mother - who, in the manner of bees or termites, was many times larger than individuals in her Court, and dwarfed Alfred like a lion over a house cat - began reading out loud the proclamation to name him a new Magical Mundane and lesser Bizarre Vicar, a fairy would shriek and then wilt to the floor in a faint. Or a fairy would simultaneously trip, yawn and fart. At which point the whole affair was cancelled due to inauspicious circumstances.
Fairies, it turned out, read into everything as meaningful. Every event, even ones that, to Alfred, had no significance, required action and histrionic reaction from fairies. Even Miriam's UnSeelying had been interrupted twice, once because a gray mouse outside had been struck by lightning and the fairies had dispersed, claiming the smell of burnt fur irritated their noses.
"Confound these superstitious bats!" Alfred said to Miriam after the sixth time he was kept from fairyhood.
"It's not always just being batty," she said thoughtfully. "Farting, fainting, sneezing, speaking in tongues - it's fairy filibuster. They're blocking your appointment, hoping you become outraged or bored and leave. After all, that's what usually happens with them. Then again," she added, "maybe it really is just coincidence. With fairies, you can never tell."
"I refuse to be politically manipulated with theatrics," Alfred muttered, more to himself than Miriam. "I've worked so hard, I've been so patient! They can't take away what I rightfully deserve and earned."
Notes:
Gonna try a serial for BF this time.
Loosely based on the Introduction ceremony into the House of Lords. I was sad to learn it no longer includes hat doffing.
The "fairy filibuster" is inspired by something I thought I remembered about how omens in Roman times were sometimes exploited by politicians during meetings.
When Alfred initially balked at the dancing lessons, a Painted Lady butterfly took him aside to explain that the building was whimsical in nature. "If you imagine its numerous, confusing hallways as a pile of spaghetti, it'd serve you better than thinking of it as a maze," it said somberly. The dance was to help him memorize how to navigate its irrational pathways.
And so, reluctantly, Alfred learned the dance and practiced his prancing and singing, telling himself all the while that at the end of all this was the blessing of fairy peerage. Once he was officially part of the Good Folks Court, Alfred would become immortal, invulnerable, a magician by nature rather than by learning, and lose two-sevenths of his sanity. But even the other humans-turned-fairies, the so-called Magical Mundanes, agreed that the payout was worth the price of the process.
"They call it our UnSeelying," said Miriam, giggling. Miriam was one of his patrons.
The problem was, the Good Folks were suspicious, capricious creatures, prone to overreaction. Every time he thought they were about to reach their big finish, high-kicks and jazz hands and all, something interrupted and disrupted them. As the Queen Mother - who, in the manner of bees or termites, was many times larger than individuals in her Court, and dwarfed Alfred like a lion over a house cat - began reading out loud the proclamation to name him a new Magical Mundane and lesser Bizarre Vicar, a fairy would shriek and then wilt to the floor in a faint. Or a fairy would simultaneously trip, yawn and fart. At which point the whole affair was cancelled due to inauspicious circumstances.
Fairies, it turned out, read into everything as meaningful. Every event, even ones that, to Alfred, had no significance, required action and histrionic reaction from fairies. Even Miriam's UnSeelying had been interrupted twice, once because a gray mouse outside had been struck by lightning and the fairies had dispersed, claiming the smell of burnt fur irritated their noses.
"Confound these superstitious bats!" Alfred said to Miriam after the sixth time he was kept from fairyhood.
"It's not always just being batty," she said thoughtfully. "Farting, fainting, sneezing, speaking in tongues - it's fairy filibuster. They're blocking your appointment, hoping you become outraged or bored and leave. After all, that's what usually happens with them. Then again," she added, "maybe it really is just coincidence. With fairies, you can never tell."
"I refuse to be politically manipulated with theatrics," Alfred muttered, more to himself than Miriam. "I've worked so hard, I've been so patient! They can't take away what I rightfully deserve and earned."
Notes:
Gonna try a serial for BF this time.
Loosely based on the Introduction ceremony into the House of Lords. I was sad to learn it no longer includes hat doffing.
The "fairy filibuster" is inspired by something I thought I remembered about how omens in Roman times were sometimes exploited by politicians during meetings.