Magnolia felt so good around him.
Taylor brought up his HUD for a moment, checked the time, then dismissed it again, allowing himself to view Magnolia without interference.
Five more minutes until they were officially on shift. Duty was endless, rosters were an illusion.
An illusion that gave him time with his naked wife lying on top of him.
Quiet moments.
Moments with thought.
Magnolia moved, perfect muscles finding places against him.
There was duty.
There was his naked wife.
She laid a long, slow kiss on his lips. ‘Sir?’
He gave a grunt.
‘I know you want me to organise it, but it is tradition for every person in a marriage to have some say in the affirmation ceremony.’
He let out a breath, and propped himself up on his elbows, Magnolia’s body continuing to conform to his as though she had been made for him.
She was perfect for him. She was his.
‘What decisions?’
She kissed him just under his chin, her hair brushing against him. She moved to straddle his lap, so that she could stare him in the face.
‘Colour scheme,’ she said, as he twisted his fingers in her hair. ‘We need to each pick two colours. Mine are,’ she raised an eyebrow, ‘rather obvious to anyone with eyes, yours, sir-’
‘Blue,’ he said.
‘That I already knew.’
‘I know.’
‘I was thinking…red, for your other colour, sir? It might remind people of the phoenixes, but mixed with black and white, it shouldn’t be an issue.’
‘Fine.’
‘Now to their assignment.’
He looked at her, asking for more information.
‘It’s a Fairyland thing. Colours for genders, makes clothing easier to choose. I was thinking black for girls, blue for boys, white for the thirds, and red for everyone else.’
He gave a grunt.
‘You do look good in red, sir.’
‘Other decisions?’
She gave a shrug. ‘I’ll take care of the guest lists, Grigori demands to the catering, everything else can-’ She cut herself off, and put a hand to her ear. ‘What is it, Mer? Oh f- Yeah, keep me updated.’ Her hand came away from her ear. ‘Louis has been injured sir, he’s in surgery now.’
‘Send-’
‘Already on it,’ she said, rolling off him, her dress appearing as she walked across the room, issuing commands as easy as breathing.
He stood and required his uniform. There was the urge to dismiss the bed. Two decades of the requirement being linked with getting out of bed made it an automatic response.
A constant bed was still unusual.
A bedroom was still unusual.
The room had been Magnolia’s. It was still Magnolia’s. It was theirs. The room retained its old position among the recruit dorms, but it had taken little effort to order the techs to install a door in the back that led to their gym.
Warping space was Agency policy. It was duty to make it work for them.
‘Status?’
She gave him a quick nod as they walked into the gym. ‘Yeah, they’re handling it.’
They fell into their usual routine: stretches, exercises, spars – everything that prepared them for the day ahead, for the life ahead.
It also gave them time to push her powers – the limits on what she could, and could not do were still flexible. Still exploitable. Still trainable. She had become a recruit unable to fade, now she could carry someone – her ability to defy gravity needed similar work.
He held his hands out, palm up, at chest height, and she vaulted onto them, aligning her body in a handstand. He pushed his face forward, and kissed her back, then lifted his hands, pushing her higher until his hands were raised above his head.
She could float for a few moments, this was useful, but it was something that could only be used as a back-up plan. Finer manipulation and longer usages were important.
She moved her hands against his, her weight shifting slightly as her fingers found firm holds against his.
‘Walk, sir.’
Ten paces forward, ten paces back, repeat five times.
The test was to maintain balance, to not rely on floating to keep herself stable.
Figure eight, repeat five times.
He tilted his head so he could look up at her. ‘Go up.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Her hands began to move on his as she took herself up onto her fingertips – this was a newer part of the test, to see how little contact she needed, without resorting to a full float. This position was still weak, still needed much more training. Still needed perfecting.
Her voice strained a little. ‘Sir.’
‘You’re fine, Magnolia.’
‘Yes, sir.’
This position was stationery – balance was key, utility would come later.
‘Sir.’
He nodded. ‘Come down.’
Her hands moved against his again, bringing her back down into palm-on-palm contact, and the safer, more stable position.
She slipped.
She went over his head and there was a crunch and a thud as she landed on the floor.
His HUD immediately filled with warnings and alarms.
Alarms and warnings that couldn’t-
He turned in time to see her- She was shifted away.
Words stared back at him. Words he refused to acknowledge. Words that-
His breathing became ineffcient.
Lies.
Misdirections.
Scholars were hacking his HUD.
Lies.
He dismissed the warnings.
He was shifted.
Infirmary.
Parker-1. Parker-2.
Magnolia.
There were still alarms.
Parker-1 drew a sheet up over her.
Direct action needed to be taken.
He lunged at Parker-2, gripped the medical agent. ‘DO SOMETHING.’
Lies.
Lies in his HUD.
Lies.
Lies in the infirmary.
Sheets were for corpses.
He shook the agent, and felt bones break under his grip.
‘Taylor.’
Ryan.
The doctor shifted out of his grip, and stumbled forward.
He gripped the metal cabinet, his fingers digging into the surface.
‘Taylor.’
Ryan. Closer. Threat.
Hand. Shoulder.
He grabbed the hand. Pulled. Threw Ryan into the wall. Threat minmised.
Ryan in his HUD. [She’s gone, Taylor.]
He moved back a step. Tore the sheet from Magnolia.
Practical joke.
Prank.
Trick.
Lie.
Glitch.
Withdrawal.
Anything.
Anything.
He touched her face.
It was a lie.
It was a glitch.
She wasn’t dead.
Couldn’t be dead.
Wasn’t dead.
He checked for vital signs. Ignored the angle of her head. Ignored everything. Looked for life. Found none.
His senses were traitors.
He held her.
He cried.
Double it.
Eeee, love the many gender options for the traditional ceremony!
Well, that’s pretty much fae culture in a nutshell, they aren’t as limited as many circles of many human cultures.
I would love to have the time to sit and figure out all the sex, gender and reproduction elements of the various fae races (both the classical and the “fairy fruit” age, which has been slowly changing reproduction for everyone, not just the fairies).
[What follows is me going on a massive tangent.]
(The fairy fruit story is kind of awesome in and of itself, it involves a mirror and the two lovers declaring themselves the queens of the fairies after they-
Fuck it, I’ll just tell the story.
Ok, fairies are horny little bastards – we know this, it’s a running element within the series. Most fairies have sex at least once a day – most businesses have a couple of roaming sex workers roaming the building to relieve people, so they can concentrate for the rest of the day. (About as common as coffee machines, if you want a comparison to regular office buildings – smaller businesses or malls may share a set pool of workers if they don’t have enough staff to warrant someone dedicated).
This is because, in every way, their sex drive is just turned up waaaaay too high. Evolutionary speaking, it’s because they used to be tiny (they didn’t used to have the ability to become 5-6’ tall), and would give birth to regular litters of children, as the mortality rate among their kind was something like 50-60% before adulthood, and then reaching old age was a rare thing.
So it was breed or die.
Time went on, and the first major change to the fairies happened – they got their hands on a whole mirror and wished for the ability to change size at will (for all living fairies, and going forward forevermore). This wish used the entire mirror, but it’s how the fairies have this ability.
Time continued, as did their sex drive, which now wasn’t as “necessary” as survival rates had increased sharply (not as many fairies getting eaten for starters).
But they continued to have litters of children, so their numbers increased exponentially.
And this became a problem – as there were “scuffles” and riots when they needed more land and territory for themselves. Scuffles became wars, and with their superior numbers…things got bad for the other fae.
Who then all turned on the fairies and started to systematically destroy them.
And their numbers became fewer and fewer, and when they were on the cusp of extinction, there was a mirrorfall. Two women found the mirror, and wished for (again, all current, and all future generations) for their ability to naturally reproduce to disappear, and also for the technology to reproduce externally, so that their race didn’t die out.
Thus, the first fairy fruit tree appeared, along with the plans and instructions to create them in the future.
These two women were declared the queens of the remaining fairies, and the new, modern age of the fairies began. This is why one of their major cultural achievements is their brilliance with biotech and bioengineering, it’s as much a cultural touchstone as it is a necessity.
The sex drive is still there, though geneticists are working on getting rid of this “problem”.
See also: How fairies pee.
If you ever do this as a full story it will be so amazing.
Oh, come on sweetie, you should know me well enough by now.
It’s lesbians, war and biotech: OF COURSE I’LL WRITE IT. 😀
It has to be on the backburner behind everything else, but I would love to explore this period in history.
…just like I also want to one day write that book of faerie fairy tales. ^_^
hugs well I’m not going anywhere. when your able to squeeze it in I’ll be here
Yay storytime!
So is fairy fruit a comprehensive any number, sex, and species thing?
Think, reproduction through in vitro and artificial wombs/tanks, only, all magical and shit, using a fruit bearing tree.
actually, now that I think of it, it kinda reminds me in an odd way of the centaurs from the Titan series.
I think after…arc 3 of the series (so sometimes post-civil-war) I’ll feel like I’m in a better position to take a break and write non-Agency stories, or “historical” pieces or whatnot.
I would love to try and write a short about my version Wolf Fae but stupid mental health issues seem to rob me of my ability to focus on any thing for more than half an hour.
write an outline, then fill in each chunk as you can. i get most of my writing done in five minute chunks these days.
:/ *hugs*
Try as Leaky suggests – it at least keeps you thinking for those short-short stretches where you can get words down.
*kicks unfinished chapters under the carpet*
*muffled giggling comes from under the carpet*
…
These are not the droids you are looking for.
>_>
For a random guess, that’s frighteningly accurate, given I was editing the “set piece” sex scene for SSR before…
well it is a classic for Star Wars and the Require; cookieverse