Monday, May 14, 2012


I case you haven't noticed yet, I fucking hate faeries. They're ok in small quantities - potentially even heroic, if handled properly - but they get way too much sympathy. Sometimes I write my own sympathetic fae, sometimes I feel the need to balance it out a little with my own vicious take on the trope, and sometimes I just want to abuse the pointy-eared fuckers.

By Mark L. S. Stone

“More wine?” she asked. I responded with a short negating gesture. The glass her servants had poured when I first sat was still there, untouched. I knew better than to eat or drink in faerie.

“Why are you striving so? Only one has ever deceived us.” I felt her gaze take me in, measuring me. “And you are not him.”

Now I looked up from the contract and met her eyes. “But imagine of what I have to gain,” I said reasonably. “You pay him a tithe every seven years.”

It was she who drew away at my predatory smile.

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