Altria runs to the fields as quickly as her legs will carry her, short as they are.
Much to her chagrin, despite hitting six years old, she is still quite small; when she'll get taller, she doesn't know, but the faeries of the village never stop reminding her that she's small and fragile and useless.
She'll show them one day, she thinks with a sigh as she hurries to the field, her staff clutches in one hand. It towers over her, twice her size and then some. One day, she's going to be so tall.
Once she's far enough in the field that she's sure none of the other faeries will hear her, she flops into the grass, staff next to her.
"Ugh, those faeries, I swear! They're all horrible!" her staff says to her.
Altria just laughs a little, shaking her head. "You've said that before, Merlin. It's okay, it hardly hurts."
She lifts her fingers to trace the bruising across her face, knowing full well that she's likely to end up with a black eye out of it.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know a spell to heal all of this up?"
Merlin--the staff--sounds regretful in response. "It'll take me a few days to work something up."
Altria just hums, shrugging. "I figured it'd be something like that. It's okay! Like I said, it barely hurts."
The staff is silent for a long moment, and then Merlin huffs. "But I do have a lesson prepared for you on camouflaging objects."
Altria sits up quickly, beaming. "Yay, yayyy! I'm ready to learn! Please, teach me!"
They've only just begun the lesson when Altria freezes, as off in the distance, there's a shout. "There she is! I saw her laughing in the field, just like I said!"
The village elder strides towards her through the field, and Altria backs away despite herself, eyes wide, staff clutched in trembling fingers. He doesn't care, though. If anything, he moves faster, reaching for the staff, trying to yank it away from her sharply.
"Caster, you do not need anything like this. It will only distract you from your training."
That is what he says. She knows, immediately, that he means, You are not allowed to have the things that bring you joy.
She has gone her whole life doing exactly as the faeries of Tintagel tell her. But this is Merlin, the one bright point in her entire life. So she clutches the staff with all of her strength, shaking her head.
"N-no, please, I--!"
She's on the ground a moment later, head spinning. Ah. Of course. The staff is gone, the village elder taking it away from her. Of course, of course. She's always been weaker than the other faeries. There was never any chance she would be able to keep it. Why had she even tried?
... Altria lies there, staring at the red sky, for a long time--until another faerie fetches her for further training, and then, mutely, she stands up and follows.
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cw: child abuse...
Altria runs to the fields as quickly as her legs will carry her, short as they are.
Much to her chagrin, despite hitting six years old, she is still quite small; when she'll get taller, she doesn't know, but the faeries of the village never stop reminding her that she's small and fragile and useless.
She'll show them one day, she thinks with a sigh as she hurries to the field, her staff clutches in one hand. It towers over her, twice her size and then some. One day, she's going to be so tall.
Once she's far enough in the field that she's sure none of the other faeries will hear her, she flops into the grass, staff next to her.
"Ugh, those faeries, I swear! They're all horrible!" her staff says to her.
Altria just laughs a little, shaking her head. "You've said that before, Merlin. It's okay, it hardly hurts."
She lifts her fingers to trace the bruising across her face, knowing full well that she's likely to end up with a black eye out of it.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know a spell to heal all of this up?"
Merlin--the staff--sounds regretful in response. "It'll take me a few days to work something up."
Altria just hums, shrugging. "I figured it'd be something like that. It's okay! Like I said, it barely hurts."
The staff is silent for a long moment, and then Merlin huffs. "But I do have a lesson prepared for you on camouflaging objects."
Altria sits up quickly, beaming. "Yay, yayyy! I'm ready to learn! Please, teach me!"
They've only just begun the lesson when Altria freezes, as off in the distance, there's a shout. "There she is! I saw her laughing in the field, just like I said!"
The village elder strides towards her through the field, and Altria backs away despite herself, eyes wide, staff clutched in trembling fingers. He doesn't care, though. If anything, he moves faster, reaching for the staff, trying to yank it away from her sharply.
"Caster, you do not need anything like this. It will only distract you from your training."
That is what he says. She knows, immediately, that he means, You are not allowed to have the things that bring you joy.
She has gone her whole life doing exactly as the faeries of Tintagel tell her. But this is Merlin, the one bright point in her entire life. So she clutches the staff with all of her strength, shaking her head.
"N-no, please, I--!"
She's on the ground a moment later, head spinning. Ah. Of course. The staff is gone, the village elder taking it away from her. Of course, of course. She's always been weaker than the other faeries. There was never any chance she would be able to keep it. Why had she even tried?
... Altria lies there, staring at the red sky, for a long time--until another faerie fetches her for further training, and then, mutely, she stands up and follows.