The Importance of Moss.

The Importance of Moss 13.

Later, Drew decided that sobbing was stupid. It wasn’t like such a pathetic action would bgrin him back to his troops and it certainly would not protect him from the Not-Fae, he wasn’t sure if anything could protect him from the Not-Fae. The Not-Fae has watched him for a while, with wide brown eyes that were full of interest, and something else a little more sour. He’d made that awful sound again, louder, with another sound of scratching joining it. When he’d left, and Drew had ceased his sobbing he began to think again. He thought about his troop and wondered if they actually cared about him being taken. He knew that the thought was irrational because he knew that he knew that they cared, but his mind was doing horrible things like one’s mind does when left to its own accords. He knew that this predicament wasn’t permanent, but he also didn’t know how temporary it was either. He had little concept of time in this strange white place because it was always white-light, or so it appeared. Drew guessed that he may have been here for one Light-and-Dark, and he smudged a finger-thick line onto the see through cage to keep count, one down, High-Fae knows how many to go.

Deciding that sitting here doing nothing was boring, and simply not helping the situation, Drew stood and decided to explore his surroundings- perhaps he’d scope out an exit or make one himself if he had to. He spread out his wings for balance and took a wobbling step forwards into the depth of white that lay out in front of him. The white slowly changed though, turning into more solid shapes, more colourful shapes. Sunk into the ground in front of him was a pool of the cleanest looking water Drew has ever laid his eyes on, it glistened blue in the false light it was surrounded by. Around the sparkling water were thick stems with lush amounts of leaves. Drew didn’t know where to trust the homey-vice that it sent off, but he longed for home so much that he bypassed the fact that it could be a fact and walked straight to it.

-

And so their quest had begun, it was to be a long, adventurous, and possibly dangerous task, but in the name of a rescue, it was all going to be taken on the chin, taken well because at the end of quest they’d have Drew back and that really was the only important thing.

Cyrus was leading the troop, simply because he was the only one who knew the way. It annoyed Kier more that it annoyed Luke and Laurence, for two reasons, number one because he was the leader and he should be the one leading the rescue mission for Drew and secondly he knew that Cyrus was someone that they could not trust- he was a damn Corrigan, that spoke for itself, they were the troop that they fought against more than any and he was a part of the troop, or was. It didn’t matter, he was untrustworthy. It was annoying that they had to trust him in order to save Drew from whatever had him.

“How do you know where he is?” Kier asked after about two metres of walking (you must remember that Fae aren’t as big as you and I, so two metres if an awfully long walk). 

Cyrus looked back from where he was walking at the front of the troop. He looked odd at the front of the group, a somewhat uncomfortable hunch to his shoulders, and his wings dragging a little ungracefully near his covered ankles. His hands were clenched tightly around the stem of a leaf that he was dragging along. “I don’t,” he admits. “It’s just a hunch.”

A hunch?! They might have been walking to their unavoidable death all because the Corrigan had a hunch? Cyrus continued like he hadn’t just seen Kier’s expression, “It’s a pretty good hunch. I don’t think they could have taken him anywhere else,” he looked thoughtful, the black green veil of  his eyes flashing momentarily. “You should trust me, Kier. I’m not leading you to a trap—“

“How do we know that?” Kier snapped, expression curling into a snarl. He’d stopped walking now, dropping his hands from his carrier-leaf so that his hands were free. He stamped forwards, wings flicking expressively as he flattened his hands against Cyrus’ chest and shoved the dirty-blonde back hard. “How, Cyrus?”

The dirty-blonde stumbled back, his right foot stopping him from falling, though he looked a little winded and a little shocked at what had just happened. His eyes flashed again in a solid black. “You don’t. I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” growled the Corrigan, his lip curving up in a soft snarl.

The other two were silent and left Cyrus and Kier to glare through solid black eyes towards each other, just letting the anger towards the other cool down as much as it could. Laurence glanced between the two, the purple swirling in the black pools of his eyes, his wings twitching nervously, “can we leave, we don’t have time for this right now.”

So they left, because Laurence was one of the leaders and he had last say.

-

The pool of water was cool against his feet. He sat against the edge and just paddled his toes into it, his elbows pressing against the coloured lines against his knees. He didn’t trust the green around him, and didn’t trust the pool enough to get fully into it. He stared at the water, watching the reflections of white change every now and then, and he didn’t look up when the Not-Fae entered the room for the second time.

He knew that it might not matter that he wasn’t looking at the Not-Fae when he came in but he felt that it was some kind of rebellion towards his situation, but he also didn’t want to see the Not-Fae because it dragged him out of his illusion that he was home and with his troop, and what a nice illusion that was.

After some time of ignoring the Not-Fae, the top of the see-through cage disappeared and a large hand appeared again, and Drew ran from it, but it wasn’t enough.

A/N: this is a really fucking short chapter sorry omg