Wallflower

“You havin’ fun, Captain?” Eli’s voice came surprisingly close to his ear, cutting through the strains of discordant music.

Sen looked over to see his friend, wearing the face of some stripped rodent, perched effortlessly on the back of his chair; his wide, white eyes watching the gentry dancing about the room in a detached sort of way.

“No.” Sen mumbled softly, feeling guilty. He had demanded that he be allowed to attend the solstice, he had forced Eli to teach him how to dance so that he would be able to perhaps make a friend… a lady friend, and not make a fool of himself. Things had not gone according to the careful plan he had laid out for himself. “Mostly they pretend they canna’ see me, but some are nice enough ta spit at my feet an call me Changeling or Abomination.” He did not like either of those words, he had only ever heard Uncle use them when referring to Eli and he did not know really what either meant, but he understood that they were not nice.

Eli’s small nose, round and wet like a dog’s, found his cheek.  “Forget ‘em, Sen. The men are all pigs an the women is pocked an sallow.”

He knew his friend was trying to comfort him, offer a sort of consultation. ‘You ca’ do better. We dona’ need their kind.’ Is what Eli meant. And for once, Sen could not agree with his friend. They were beautiful, all of them. Pale and perfect, dancing as if they were born to it, their feet hardly touching the floor as they moved. They made Sen look like what he was, the filthy, bastard child of two cursed humans. He did not belong among them, he never would. Eli had more right to the room of High Court Summer Folk then Sen ever would, and those beautiful ladies and gentlemen did not want anything to do with either of them.

Eli, always keen to Sen’s shifting moods, pressed his nose to his cheek once more, breathing his soft rodent breaths against the shell of his ear. “Cam’on, Captain. I got a surprise for yeh.”

Sen dutifully followed his friend, appreciative for any excuse to leave the great hall and the solitary feeling that had started to grown inside of him. “What are yeh suppose ta be anyway?”

“Coon.” Eli answered over his sleet grey shoulder, the dark bandy pattern around his eyes looking like a mask, making his depthless eyes all the more startling. He waddled on ahead, stripped tail held high and jaunty behind him. They went to Sen’s room, and it did not surprise him, as it was one of the few places in the castle that he was allowed to be. The small, round room did not look any different to him and he frowned at the lack of an obvious surprise waiting in the night darkened room. He found a candle and lit its grimy cotton wick, warm light mingling with the soft moonshine coming through the thickly leaded window. The moon was heavy and golden tonight, an over burdened harvest moon looking down on them all like an approving old relative, pleased at their efforts. He set his candle up on the mantel piece and turned back to Eli, breath catching raw in his throat. No matter how many years they spent together, or how ever many times Sen watched Eli change his face, the transformation from one creature to another always seemed like a new and thrilling sort of magic.

He was a man this time, wearing a face that he never showed to anyone but Sen and even then the young man could count on one hand how many times he had see this particular visage. Eli grinned, teeth too white and too pointed in places to be mistaken for a real human’s smile. His eyes were a green that only ever came on new leaves the first few days of spring and the freckles that he wore so proudly looked like flecks of gold burning against his pale flesh.

Sen grinned back. He loved this face, this body, this friend of his. Though he had never asked, he had the suspicion that this was Eli’s real body, awkward and wonderful with arms and legs far too long, elbows sharp and quick, and the fingers of his hands so thin they looked as if they would break under the slightest pressure. But Sen knew they were strong. Eli had held him once, wearing this face, had held him while he cried beside his mother’s grave and he knew those hands were far stronger than they looked.    

“So, a surprise?” He clasped his own hands behind his back, not wanting to fidget too much and betray his over excitement at something as simple as Eli changing faces. Really, he did it at least once a day, it should not have felt so special, so exclusively just for Sen’s benefit.

Eli took in a deep breath and let out a stream of soft sounds, making his own little fanfare and he reached up to a high placed shelf with his needlessly long arms and plucked down a bottle that Sen did not remember being in his room. Eli held it out, fingers wrapped around the thin neck, thumbnail cutting into the shiny red wax seal in a way that felt like masked violence. The liquid within was an amber that almost cast off a luminosity of its own, churning against its glass prison like a stormy sea caught and contained just for them.

“Mum’s medicine?” Sen raised an eyebrow, he recognized the drink easily.

Eli snorted a soft laugh, showing his teeth again in a lopsided smile that sent the light in his eyes dancing. “Yer Mum knew a good way ta treat what ailed her. It’s called whiskey.”

“Whiskey?” Sen tried the word, his lips forming the unfamiliar syllables. “But I’m not sick.”

Eli laughed again and toppled himself back on Sen’s bed, laying out like an offering, thick, red curls framing his happy eyes. “It’s good fer more than jus’ medicine.” He finished tearing away the wax, letting the little flesh like tatters fall around him without care. His fine teeth found the edge of a dark cork and he pulled it free with a loud pop that made Sen jump. He held out the bottle with its swirling contents, grinning around the bit of soft wood still between his teeth.

Sen took it slowly, almost reverently, weighing the cold glass vessel between his hands.  

“Jus’ a sip now, donna make yourself sick.” The older man advised sagely.

He grimaced at the smell, the bitter, rotted acrid scent that held no happy memories for him, but he did as Eli instructed. It tasted much as it smelt, rancid and burning all the way down. He choked a little, forcing down the mouthful and felt the heat of it slide all the way down and settle thickly in his stomach.

“Well?” Eli’s damnable grin was still in place, expectant, self satisfied.

“It tastes like evil.” Sen coughed out, flopping down beside his friend and handing the bottle back.

Eli was laughing again, such a soft and low sound, and took a long drink from the bottle, licking his lips afterwards, chasing down any lingering droplets. “That it does.” He held the bottle back out for Sen to take, evidently laboring under the impression that Sen wanted more. “Happy birthday, Captain.”

Sen took the bottle back, not really wanting more, but not knowing what else to do. “Is it my birthday?”

Eli shrugged his narrow shoulders, the bones moving under his skin like living things. “It might be. Do yeh feel any older?”

He took a drink before remembering how much he did not like the taste of whiskey and coughed roughly. “I suppose so?”  Sen was unsure what his basis for comparison was, but thinking back to the year before he did feel older, definitely taller if nothing else.

“Then, happy birthday.” And Eli clapped him roughly on the back. They grinned at each other and Sen shifted on the lumpy old feather mattress, moving to lay slantwise, finding Eli’s concave stomach a satisfactory pillow for his strangely heavy head. He could not remember ever feeling so warm on the inside. It felt like an internal summer, all golden and burning bright and hot and fast. He closed his eyes, trying to lock in that oddly wonderful feeling, sure that if he were to leave them open that the warmth and light he felt would take the opportunity and escape.

“Eli?” He whispered, afraid that his loose lips would leave passage for the heat. “Why’d Uncle’s friends hate me?” He did not know what made him ask, the question was just there, open and honest and too sharp to take back inside.

There was a slow pause punctuated by the sound of Eli taking another of his long drinks. “A cus’ their Cowards.” He whispered back with some certainty. “Cowards without the sense they was born with. A bunch of little pricks with their heads so far up each other’s arses they canna’ see how lovely you are. They-”

Sen laughed so loud he startled himself. “Lovely?”   He risked slitting an eye open and looking up at his friend from the strange angle he found himself. Eli was flushed slightly, the rosy pink of his cheeks making his freckles all the more noticeable.

“Lovely.” Eli repeated with such a serious tone to his voice that Sen could not argue. “Like your mum an da, Strong an brave an so alive it makes me want ta cry for it. We’re dead you know, them an me an Perrin.” He called Uncle by his given name with such a bitter inflection that Sen winced. “But not you. Sen, you’re alive. Yeh change, yeh grow, yeh bleed an break and laugh like the sun’ll never set an the hunt’ll never come for yeh. You’re alive an lovely an beautiful like a first breath or a last kiss. An all those cowards down there in their gilded bodies an hollow quests for the turning of each year… they’re afraid.”

“They’re afraid of my loveliness?” Sen had no idea what Eli was trying to tell him, it sounded pleasant but it curled in circles over its self, all nonsensical and trite.

One of Eli’s hands came crashing down over his face, smothering and warm and smelling of earth and spring and life. “They hated your da an you’re his dark shadow.” Eli amended firmly as if his previous statements had never been voiced and by how Sen felt inside, all muddled and soft, it was quite possible that he had imagined the whole speech. “But donna pay them no mind.” His long fingers carded through Sen’s thick hair, pushing it aside, nails digging, scratching at his scalp. “They donna like me either.”

“They have no taste.” Sen nodded, eyes closed contently. Anyone who did not like Eli obviously was not worth Sen’s time or worry or consideration. Eli was possibly one of the most fantastically wonderful people that had ever come into his life.

“None at all.” Eli agreed readily. He forced Sen to take hold of the bottle again. “Drink more.”

  “But it doesn’t taste at all good.”

“Drink an we’ll dance like I taught yeh.” Eli twisted at one of Sen’s curled horns, tipping his head sideways.

Sen did not know why such an offer sounded so good to him, but it did, and he drank deeply feeling like he might burn up inside. They rolled off the bed, Eli with only slightly more coordination and grace and they danced, leaning on each other and laughing though neither of them knew why. The foolish and petty immortals downstairs were all but forgotten in the misty fog of whiskey and friendship. It was the best birthday Sen could remember having.