A Modern Fairy Tale (IC)

[Miss Devil]

\\Tasanee Siran//

Tasanee Siran starred up at the moon in pure wonder. She was pondering deep thoughts of life, love, and about her dreams. She hoped so badly for something magical to happen to her. Yet nothing ever did.

Tonight at her father's main home, outside of the busy city and more into the country side, he was throwing a lavish ball for her and her "friends". By friends she meant the girls from her school that she barely knew nor cared to know. But her real friends the twins and Satine were coming. So at least she wasn't going to be alone.

"Miss, it's time to get ready. Your father is expecting you dressed and in the car in ten minutes exactly." Satine told her.

Tasanee was always in a hurry and she always hated being rushed. But tonight she was the main item for talk and stares. Neither of those bother her much she got use to it when she was younger. Still, she enjoyed getting to take her time and get dress slowly.

"Coming." She said as she stood up slowly and walked back into the penthouse bedroom. She walked directly over to wear Satine stood with the dress she would be wearing for part of the evening.

Satine help her slip into her dark navy blue dress, made of silk, that had diamond stars running down from her waist to the floor. It was beautiful. The dress fit snug on her and gave her the look of elegance and also made her look sexy. She felt and looked amazing.

Her dark straight hair had been curled and had a blue butterfly clipped in the back. She wore no make up except eye-liner and eyeshadow. Both made here eyes look stunning like the rest of her.

She smiled at herself and walked out of the penthouse and to the elevator. They were both in the car leaving for Daddy's country home in a limo.

[Minkasha]

Monsieur Stupéfiant had is feet stretched out on the long chair. The sand beneath him and the wind blew across his half nude body. In his very tight Speedo he looked up into the sky with sunglasses that added to his mysterious persona. Birds flew over, making their mating calls. The fairy godfather wondered why even on his break he was surrounded by love and sex. Sounds of footsteps were being created and were heading his way. He put his right hand to the ash tray on the small plastic end table and pulled out a cigarette. The source of the footsteps now fell into his viewing. Speaking of sex…

He slid down his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. Before him was a very handsome waiter, but unlike him he wasn’t wearing a Speedo. He looked down the muscled and tan body with his blue eyes. The small mustache on his upper lip moved as he spoke. “It was certainly a good idea to match your parents together. Now be a good boy and lit my cig” he pushed his glasses back up and leaned back on the longhair. The blond boy leaned over, grabbed the lighter from the side table and lit the cigarette hanging from the fairy godfather’s lips.

“You know…” the frail body laying on the longhair began. “I think you should compensate me for the fact I made you possible” his seductive and coy voice spoke, he has been in the game for a while.

“Huh?” the blond asked.

“Just go with your feelings” Monsieur Stupéfiant raised his hand ready to wave it to cast a love spell. In the back of his mind his ‘Need fairy godparent’ alarm rang. He stopped casting. Damn it. An golden brown eyebrow raised in irritation.

He pulled out his cigarette from his mouth and as he held it in his hand so elegantly blew the smoke into the boy’s eyes. As soon as the boy waved the smoke away from his eyes… Monsieur Stupéfiant was gone.
Now in the bright and almighty halls of the Temple of Love he stood in front of very tall door guarded by two roman dressed fairies. They were armed with spears made of pure shining golden light, all fairy weapons were crafted from the same material as cupid’s bow.
Wearing a blue button up tucked in white golfer pants with matching white flats he walked up to them. They crossed their spears. He stood there, silent for a moment. They realized who it was and with fear and great honor moved out of the way.

“Good boys” he said taking another whiff of the smoke coming from the cigarette out of his mouth. Walking in smooth and cool like he trotted down the golden carpet that led to the Throne of the Goddess.
Before him was the mighty Goddess herself, Venus. Her beauty so powerful that no words could describe it.

“You better speak quick sister” he inhaled a giant cloud of smoke.

“I was ready maul that boy like a starving bear” he blew out the smoke, it came of the shape of a heart with a long stick sliding through the middle. “If you catch my drift”

Venus glared. Cupid in annoying baby form pouted.

“Are we here to play charades or was there a reason you ended my small 182 year break?” The guards around her looked at him in shock, the man had balls.

Venus cleared her throat politely before speaking, her skills in diplomacy always shined.

“There is a lack of Love Energy in the Siran Family Empire, the head rulers are not bonding. In order for peace to remain there must be new marriages forged so the family tress can continue” Venus was quick, but gentle as always. In the distant past there was a time where she could have solved such issues herself, but as new religions emerged and her followers died out her power decreased and now she is nothing more than a talking statue. It was the grand Fairies of Love that she created during the peak of her power that now do what needs to be done. Monsieur Stupéfiant was the best she had.

“Fun, another royal drama” his stance slacked down. “When this is done…” he looked up at the goddess whose heights dwarfed everyone. “I want a boat, a boat full of young strapping men” he slid on his heel to face away from her before teleporting away, leaving behind sparkles that slowly faded.

[nonangelic92]

Charlene walked around her bedroom, freaking out. She kept throwing her clothes out of her closet. Oh my gosh what am I going to do, Tasanee's ball is tonight and I can't just find a thing to wear. Charlene suddenly smiled and rushed to her mother. "Mother, do you still have the gown you wore when you had your coming out party?" she asked sweetly. Her mother nodded and told her it was in her bedroom chest. Charlene hugged her mom and ran upstairs. When she found the dress, her eyes sparkled. She held the dress up tp her body and looked at herself in her mom's full length mirror, she couldn't wait to put the dress on.

After Charlene put the dress on, she twirled aimlessly around her room admiring herself in it. "I can't belive this gown fits." she said ahppily, " I hope I look utterly outstanding in tonights ball." she smiled and sat at her vanity. She looked at herself in the mirror and began to brush her hair, thinking about that nights ball.

[Honey]

“There now, all better.” Alastrina Hainsworth said softly as she finished tugging, pinning, weaving and fluffing her oldest sister’s hair. Zenerva stood flinging her arms around the slender girl before rushing out to finish getting ready. Even as the door swung shut behind her it was yanked open so another could enter.

“TRINA!! HELP!” Gwen wailed, holding up a broken pair of heels. Smiling patiently, Ally led her second eldest sister back to her room and fished out a different pair from the girl’s closet. She smothered a laugh as she headed back towards her room, a squeal of delight echoing down the hall. All emergencies solved for the moment, she began to get ready herself as she had no guests to help this time.

A pathetic romantic she often ended up helping someone win the love of their dreams at one of these things. But tonight it appeared she was on her own. She paused in applying her makeup, wondering if anyone she knew would be there, then shrugged. It didn’t matter, she made friends easily.

With the ease of practice she finished her makeup quickly so her eyes looked even larger than usual and ran her fingers through her short cap of hair, opting to leave it down. The gown she slid into was a pale green strapless that hugged her upper body and flared out at her hips before falling to the ground. The strappy heels she tugged on added a mere three inches to her already dainty height and she had a moment to wish for longer legs before her sisters began to shout for her downstairs.

[ｒａｂｂｉｔ]

Marcy Hatten-Stevens

Five, six, seven, eight… One, two, three, four, five, six – hip pop, turn, kick, extension, hold it for three counts, down, eight, one, two, three, four…

Marcy stood poised on the polished concrete floor of the dance studio, one arm raised strongly above her head, hand facing away, fingers held elegantly relaxed, and the other arm straight out to her side, fingers composed in a similar manner. Her brunette’s chest rose and fell with a controlled breath, sweat breading on her forehead and sliding down fair skin, cool now in the air-conditioned room compared to her hot skin.

After another breath, Miss Hatten-Stevens stepped out of the spot she’d ended up in for the fourteenth time today and crossed the mirrored room to her rather stylish, vintage leather messenger bag. She bent down, plucked the bag off the ground by its long strap and tossed it over her shoulder; crossing to the speaker system, Marcy unplugged her iPad and slid the light device into her bag. On her way to the door, she fished her sweater out of the bag and shrugged into it, rolling up the sleeves to just before her elbows.

As she descended the stairs of the academy, Marcy slid her slender silver bracelet-watch onto her wrist and checked the time. She had two hours. A sigh heaved her chest and she slid into the back seat of the discrete town car waiting at the curb.

The driver pulled away from the curb, and that was when her bag started to lightly vibrate, making her blink and retrieve her cell phone from her inside pocket.

“Hello, Marcy here,” she chimed, tipping her head to support the phone against her ear with her shoulder.

“Darling, are you going to wear the blue or orange?” Her mother asked, sounding worried. Marcy sighed.

“Neither, I told you, I want to wear the white. It looks great on me,” she replied.

“But honey, so many things can happen to a white dress! It’s just begging for a stain!”

“So is blue and orange! Why don’t I just wear black?”

“No, no, black makes you look so… Pale! But then again, with a dark lipstick and smoky eyes…” Marcy’s mother trailed off in thought as she tended to do.

“What about that creamy-gold Armani number?” Marcy suggested and her mother made a thoughtful noise.

“That might work, darling! Good thinking!” She praised her, smile in her voice.

“All, right, I’ll start getting ready when I get home, in about ten minutes,” Marcy replied and they exchanged goodbyes before hanging up the phone. It was slightly tiresome to have to be so polite with one’s own mother.

----

Duncan Whitburg

To have to arrive four hours early is a hassle. To have to arrive four hours early to something you’re invited to as a guest, only to have to work most of the night is a bigger hassle. To have to arrive four hours early to something you’re invited to as a guest, only to have to work most of the night and have to appear fully decked out in a tuxedo and while you’re working, seem like you aren’t working, for your family’s sake, is an even bigger hassle.

“Get out!” Chef Brassard hollered, waving at Duncan with a towel in his hand. “You’re starting to sweat! You’ll stain your shirt!”

Duncan sighed and picked up a stack of plates, walking backwards out of the hot, bustling kitchen so he could open the door with his back. Turning the face the right direction, the nineteen year-old deftly swerved out of the way of several waiters and went about helping set the tables.

Tonight wouldn’t be the first time Duncan Whitburg has had to perform a juggling act to this caliber, but this time he was without a crucial tool – his father, who usually covered for Duncan when he happened to be in the kitchen for some reason or another. He thought about how he’d accomplish this feat tonight as he set the plates on the fine-linen tablecloths; as he set the last one he was carrying, he glanced around the hall.

For such a modern exterior, this particular Siran estate had a wide range of elegantly styled rooms. Earlier, when they hadn’t been so busy with last-minute preparations, Duncan had taken the chance to scout out the place and he’d found that he’d liked the marble-floored red and gold smoking room the best, followed closely by the dark-wooded library.

“Mr. Whitburg! Chef Julian wants you again!” One of the waiters called to him and the young man quickly ducked back into the kitchen.

[Mockingjay]

Doon ah din-ah-din-ah doon-ah din-ah din-ah doon...

The wiry young boy at the tablas sat on the ground beside a potted plant. His legs crossed and the drum before his knees, the boy kept a steady beat; one doon-ah din-ah din-ah after another. Amir liked to work with the tablas playing. He needed to work with a little noise behind him so his room wouldn't feel so large. And yet, he was the one who extended it so many times. Did he like large spaces? No, not really. It made him feel small and more alone than usual. He had only asked for this extensive project so that he could see his father.

He was a prince, which meant his father was the king. And being the king meant being busy with the affairs of the people. When he was younger, Amir hated the people. His father seemed to love them more than he for he spent his whole time worrying about THEM than spending time with him. But Amir understood that running a nation was mentally arduous, and required more attention than a man.

There was a knock.

"What?!" Amir screamed. Blasted maids and butlers were always rushing in and rushing out of his room. Never a moment of silence, alone time.

A shy butler stepped in. "Sir," he said quietly, "The ball. You have less than an hour."

"Fine." Amir turned back to his maths book. The tabla boy stopped playing when he noticed the butler still standing beside Amir's door.

"Sir..." the butler said again.

"WHAT?!"

"Your father wants you to get dressed now."

"Well if you'd leave..." Amir said in a rather bitter tone, and the butler bowed and walked away.

Amir went to his closet doors and looked at his wardrobe. Every suit was brand new (he had a new wardrobe imported this year at his request). He chose a navy blue suit but before he could take it off of the rod, four servants popped into the closet and started to prep the garment. They had to attach eye-catching jewels and medals to show his wealth and stature. Not that he minded, really. He loved looking as impressive as possible.

Tonight would surely be no different than the other galas. He noticed a servant attaching diamond encrusted cufflings. "Don't use that," he said, and he smirked a little as he said, "I wouldn't want to give any ladies heart attacks."

Amir poked his head out of the closet. "Did I tell you to stop playing?" he shouted to the tabla boy. And again, the sultry beats filled the room.

Doon ah din-ah din-ah doon...

[sneakyonfoota]

Stretched across a chaise longue was a woman in a silk dress and evening gloves. Her legs crossed, she balanced a stiletto by her toe before letting it drop to the floor to join its twin. She lounged with her spine and neck arched along the back of the sofa. Her piled, platinum hair weighed her head down as she drew from the mouthpiece of a hookah.

"Whatever happened to being fashionably late?" she sighed. She glanced over lazily to the armchair across to her, where sat a handsome man whom she playfully dubbed "Nicholas Nickleby" due to his clothes when they were get ready hours prior.

"Early is the new late," he said with a shrug and a smile, bending forward to claim the hose from her.

They arrived an hour ago in a cherry red DB4; long before the time printed on the invitation--no accident, they wished to eschew or rather outright avoid formalities and greetings upon arrival, preferring the opportunity to pick and choose for themselves by being already situated. Comfortably situated. "They" of course being Anais and Amon Caroligne, the Marquise and Marquis of Renard, scions of the Salii Group--plutocrats among plutocrats.

Ever insular, they had retreated to a parlour that looked out to a patio and made themselves quite at home with a tray of purloined hors d'oeuvres (they were entreated to "help themselves" after all) and a hookah--not initially provided, rather packed away into Amon's "trousse de jouets".

Anais rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her folded arms. "We could always have our own little party," she suggested.

Amon studied the head of his walking stick, staring into the macabre, empty sockets of the pewter fox skull laid into its acrylic handle. An heirloom; the queer accessory served as a symbol of the head of the Carolignes since at least Amon's grandfather--this much he gathered from portraits and old photographs; he never actually met the man.

"So soon?" he muttered rather distantly. "Our little debutante hasn't yet arrived."

Anais frowned and sighed, sinking down into the sofa. "Hmph. So where is the Infanta, then?" Twisting like a falling cat, she shifted her position so that she was sitting facing her brother, snatching the hose from his grip. "I've half a mind to sling her over my shoulder like a Visigoth and speed her away somewhere less... stifling. Really, this should have been done over at the Estoria." She once again took to sucking down on the hookah and proceeded to blow rings, becoming completely absorbed in the activity.

Amon observed her, resting his chin on the his walking stick. She looked genuinely lost in thought; so far into her own head that even Amon could only imagine what she was thinking. Her brow knitted and furrowed, and then her eyes widened and her jaw slack. He was so lost in her features that he didn't notice right away when she was speaking again.

"Hm?" he uttered questioningly.

"You forgot the present, didn't you?" repeated Anais. She pushed him back into his armchair. "You forgot!" It was more incredulous than angry.

She was up now. Up and pacing about--thinking.

"I'll write her a coupon on a cocktail napkin," she resolved. "Oh, wait!" Then jumped onto her brother's lap, causing him to grunt in surprise, yet not releasing his hold of his cane. She patted his jacket and probed its pockets, going 'aha!' when she claimed his business card case and then continued her exploratory in search of a pen. With both items she curled on his lap, removing her gloves with her teeth and setting to work making a simple, yet elegant faux "gift certificate" on the back of one of Amon's business cards--apparently redeemable for gelato in Milan. She held the card away from her, admiring the little motifs she drew and the little cartoon foxes she made in the corners, going cheek to cheek with her brother to show it off to him.

"Done. We're off the hook. Yay me."

[Miss Devil]

Tasanee arived at her father's house completely nervous. Her palms were all sweaty and he dress felt to clingy to her pale skin. Tge fabric felt like it was choking her body. She was having a small panic attack when she heard how many people her father had invited to her coming out party. And coming out as in coming of age where she gets to take over the family buisness and what not.

In totally there is expected to be over 300 guest. She wasn't really to panicked about the strangers, she was more worried about her classmates and what they would think of her. There was only going to be about a handful of them there. Some of they were coming with their parents, others were not. But still so little would actually be there.

She got out of the limo her thoughts speeding on the party. She could always hide. She knew this house better than her father... But what if she is missed? This is HER coming out party after all.

The smile played on her lips as one of the servants opened the door before she could think about opening it.

That's the perks of being higher up on the food chain, she thought to herself as she entered the white mansion. Her eyes glowed as she watched everyone prep for the party that was about to begin.

Her best friends were waiting for her and she was excited. The mask were on a main table everyone was expected to put one on. Her's was in the room her friends were waiting.

[Honey]

It took her a few minutes but she was finally able to smooth away a last minute crisis and load her sisters into the limo, before sending the chatty, ecstatic trio on their way. With a relieved sigh she slid into a smaller car, requesting the driver stop at her father’s company building before driving to the Siran estate. The drive was relatively fast and soon Alastrina was sliding back out of the car and moving steadily up through the building. The few people she saw inclined their heads respectfully, while hurrying to do their work, none taking any real notice of her ball attire. It was usual for her to show up at odd hours in different styles of dress to see her father.

There was no secretary at the reception desk but Alastrina would have ignored them anyway, and headed straight into her father’s office. He was in a meeting elsewhere it seemed and she moved to his desk to leave him a note and order him a meal. She smiled when she saw the little box on his desk, the words “Sorry, Ally Cat” printed neatly across the top and opened it to find a simple gold drop bracelet to match the drops at her ears. She clipped it on to one delicate wrist, before finishing her business and exiting the room. She navigated her way back to the garage quickly and easily with only the soft click of her heels for company as it appeared her father was running late.

[Minkasha]

Monsieur Stupéfiant phased into the new location, the Siran empire.
“Well this is not what was like back in 1828” people walked past him on the side walk. He watched them, looked at what they wore and how they walked, the way their hair moved. The Godfather move his hand back through his hair “looks like I’m still ahead of the game” he took in a cloud of smoke and blew it out. The people around him coughed and glared. “As always”

Walking down the sidewalk, laid back and always slick he began to plain his romance plot. It was a real bitch to play with the little princes and princesses. He was crossing the street.
“Whiney little bastards” he dropped the cigarette on the pavement as it was close to death. Being a fairy gave him a unique aura, one that even the most self centered people could feel. It did not provoke any emotion. It just made them notice him and this was shown as he leaned against a building wall with a bent knee.

Arms cross he continued to think on his idea. Back in the 1800s he could just say “I’m a Fairy Godfather look what I can do” and conjure a quick flash. Now with the new technology and improved sense of skepticism people would doubt him. But now that he thought about it… there were dramatic ways of showing the truth. Lighting another cigarette he turned his head…something interesting was here.

Another Fairy. His eyes leered into the direction of the feeling. It was very weak…so weak he could hardly feel it. He would have thought it to be competition if: 1. a fairy could even come close to his skill and 2: The sensation was stronger. It seemed as if a new Fairy was being created through transformation. Venus could create some and others can change…

Whoever this person was they were romance hookers. Putting out all the time to help other couples form. This classy whore of romance was getting his or her just deserves...becoming a Fairy Parent.

“It seems I have someone to school” he said to himself very quietly, being muffled out by the walking of others. He began to make his way there. Once at a cross walk a car drove up to him and almost hit him. The driver and passenger inside were laughing off their socks. Yet Monsieur Stupéfiant did not even flinch. He turned to face them in the middle of the sidewalk, the other walkers dashed off.His sunglasses stared them down, smoke danced in front of them.

“FAG!” the man driving yelled. The man in the passenger seat laughed.

He stood there till their laughter ended. Silence, a staring competition between the three. Cars honked behind the vehicle in front.

“Let’s see…two homophobes who both do not have girlfriends as of now…” he calculated to himself. He raised his right hand with his index and middle finger apart. They stared thinking of him as a freak, as soon as he slammed his fingers together both of them began to feel funny inside.

They looked at one another. They tried to shake their heads in denial, as Monsieur Stupéfiant walked off they continued to shake off the new feelings.

The Fairy could hear the vehicle speed off with urgency.
“Oh young love” he blew out another cloud in the shape of two intertwined male sex symbols.

He was in front of the building where this new Fairy was and teleported inside. Following the feeling he was in a garage. Looking at a blonde walking to a car he walked up to her.
“Hey sweet heart” he dropped his smoke stick and smashed it.