The Little Maker

In the Makers Mind

The little woman strode forward with long and firm steps as if hurrying after biger and faster. It was a old habit and nothing else, for in truth the woman was going nowhere and following noone. As she walked she huddled from the biting wind in her large jacket, rust red hair swaying in the wind. Beyond her suprisingly short stature she didn’t look like much, mearly a short and thoughtfull woman. At least that’s the case for those who can not truly see. No one here could.

As she walked the contemplated the last few weeks of events. They had not been extrordinary, to be honest. They had been very mundane and that was what made them so wounderus. In the time since ariving in the city of Sacramento she had experienced many things she had not expected to find again. Friendship; taking the form of the two beautiful stripers Erica and Enzo as well as the at times frigid Alice White, all three beings like here, people once lost to the world who managed to make their way back. Passion, this time in the hevy metal musican Seth Callaway. She briefly woundered if there would be a future there. She was unsure, they were very different in nature. Last was Kinship; for in coming here she found more than just her Lost friends, she found a whole society of kin of nature. The future looked promising in that regard, a place where even her goblin-like visage could fit in and be accepted and where her talents could be appreciated.

Her vissage darkened as she turned down another street in the intersection. Of course, things were not as ideal as her fantasy made them seem. They rarely were when one was caught somewhere between a normal existance and a realm of dreams and nightmare, of unimaginable beauty and cruelty all at the same time. All was not right, the Spring Soverign had been attacked by someone. She did not know by who, or why. It was a terrifying throught that someone would actualy dare to attack a Soverign in the open like that. The Soverigns were the most skilled of them, having brought themselves to power over their respective Court through mastery of whichever tools they weilded. She imagined King Crunk had mastered popularity, no one would say no to him. Briefly she woundered what her own Sovereign had mastered to earn his place as the king of the Autumn Court.

A briefe thought struck her. Maybe she should actualy go and meet him? She had never properly introduced herself to him, and it was high time for her to do so and to figure out what she could do four her Court, seeing as the frigid Winter Queen had more or less told her that her concern over the wellfare of the Freehold had not been desired. Her steps faltered. Maybe that had not really been the issue at all? She had been brash and loud about her worries, uncaring for how they might be interprated by those that did listen. Had the Queen thought her one of the disenters to her actions? Most likely. She would have to be more mindfull in the future, she promised herself. It would not do to only make enemies.

She stood still, eyes turned towards the evening sky though they did not see it. Her attention were turned away from what laid beyond herself, forced to turn inwards to dig deep into herself. She would have to make something of herself if she were to succeed and live well here. Something grand, perhaps? Or maybe just something that would let her live in comfort? She would go and speak to her King, but beyond that she had no plans, no purpus. The fear of roaming the world and wither and die without finding purpus welled up in in her. For each day you do not move forward you die a little more inside, your hopens and dreams fading. Only moving forward would realise them, you made your own fortune. She looked down at her hands, long and slender fingers. She had no clue what to make with them.

Trading the Self

When she had walked in to meet HAL Samantha had been frustrated, sad and scared. The trip into the Hedge had been taxing, if mentally so rather than physically. Fear of the dangers of the trip had been with her the whole way, she knew what kind of dangers one could find there. Getting lost, hostile hobgoblins, sinister fates and if one was truly unlucky, the Gentry. Then it was Lawrence, the unaligned Changeling she had encountered, charming and handsome like a wet dream come to life. He had managed to be very scary when she told him of the barging she had made, which required her to give away a little bit of herself, one of those things that anchored her in the mundane world. That had been the most upsetting part.

But now she found herself being nothing but contemplative. The discussion with HAL had been informative and gave her a lot to think about. It had touched upon the subject of what they were, which was not human. They were Changelings, not humans. And as her Sovereign had pointed out they invested themselves in things, human things, in an attempt to remain human. The goggles, her jacket, her hate for the goblin form she wore, her chosen name… all of them were founded in the human in her. To wield the power of the Gentry one had to trade away parts of their humanity. She had traded some of what made her human and fate had opened the gates of power for her.

She just had to decide if it was worth trading her human self for the power of the fey that made them the way they were.

Goblin Tricks

Something pattered on the window. The little boy stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. Light flashed across. That disturbed him. More pattering like hail striking. Now he woke up. A question passed through his sleepy mind; what on earth was that? He did not see anything out of the ordinary, the rarely played with toys were where they should be, the PS3 controller resting on the night side table, the TV over in the corner and the nightlight glowing faintly by the door. The light swept through the room once more, followed by the rattling and rasping against the window. It sent a shiver down the boys’ spine. The light passed a window again, a shadow fluttering in it for a moment. Small feet touched the cold floor as he walked towards the window. More rattling came, and then the light fixed full on the window with a bright red glow in which rose the large and snarling shape of a wolf on two legs. He ran for the door, screaming for his parents.

Outside, leaning against a tree in the yard, the goblin woman smiled. She had a flashlight with a variable strength setting. On it was a small cap she had made herself, its end was covered with a red film. It was really easy to pop it on and off. Held before the flashlight was a small cardboard cutout, which went into one of the pockets on her jacket while she drank deeply of the boys fear. The flashlight and cap soon followed into their own pockets before she walked off. She had to get more gravel to throw at the windows on the other houses she had prepared with the nightly harassment of gravel for the last few days.