Unclaimed

Chapter Sixty-Five- TBD

Beau

"You have fairy children now, how did you have to wait a century for more?" I ask as Mila wrings her hands out in front of me.

"Fairies age much slower than humans. A fairy child could look eight years old but be almost a hundred years old, maybe more. But they're still physically children, it just means they're younger and more vulnerable for longer. But very mischievous." Mila says over her fifth glass of wine. Her finger nails pinned to the bowl of the wine glass.

"That sounds like hell." I remark snidely but Mila ignores it and continues talking.

"It's hard for fairies to have babies. More than a hundred years without a new born is detrimental especially to a colony as small as ours. And there is a reason for that." Her eyes downcast on the carpet lying out on my floor. Hands shifting, eyes refusing to meet and I wait for her to finish. Her fingers rolling the stem of the wine glass back and forth.

"You know what's the wonderful thing about children?" The question making her more animated as she sat forward, eyes darting up meeting my gaze that was leveled at her over the rim of a glass of whiskey. "They have compete unrestrained, untapped potential of having great magical skill, or just are a melting pot that draws in magical energy. But as they get older that potential dissipates and becomes less."

"You grow up, you lose the whimsy." I reply flatly.

"A crude way to put it but yes." She nods leaning back in her seat. "Fairy children are a bleeding hotspot of magic, they're babies, the power they're conjuring even asleep is wonderful and abundant. And would keep our colony alive for the next century maybe longer until the next generation. Fairies are magic, and we need it to continue living, it's the same as water to us."

"So living a domesticated life is completely out of the question?" I ask, no rudely, but I wasn't holding her hand.

"No." Mila rolls her eyes. "We're just not built to survive the way humans do, some of us have tried, but it never ends well."

"Well that's all peachy and shit, but you didn't explain why you can't tell Vadim." I say and hear the ding of the oven go off.

Cottage pie.

I fish it out and serve a plate to Mila and then myself. Mila thanks me, but twiddles with her fork, pushing the meat around and rolling the peas across the plate.

"Mila?"

"I can't tell Vadim because he has no reason to know. He didn't know before and he's already angry enough with me as it is." Mila shaking her head as her once bright wings seemingly turn a purplish hue, same as her cheeks. Wine against fairies.

"Eat the pie." I nod my head to the plate. "Five glasses of wine and three hours spilling your guts about the long prosperous history of your fairy colony. Eat something."

She doesn't argue. Dainty hands move the fork from plate to mouth. We eat in silence.

Hours later Judas is giving me an incredulous look as I carry Mila on my back, trudging barefoot back to her tent.

"What even happened?" Judas asks as he falls in step with me.

"Fuckshit, fuckshit, and Oh! More fuckshit!" I reply exasperated. Judas wastes no time in easily lifting Mila's limp body off me and carrying her bridal style the rest of the way.

Making it to their campsite, most of them sitting outside, grouped around sporadically placed campfire fires. Chatting away acting like this was their new normal.

A very confused Vadim stood at the entrance of the tent he and Mila shared.

"Is she drunk?" He asks with an air of irritation behind the question.