londoncallingrpg

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The first day of Spring had come and gone. The prince had left to the Seelie lands, but only for battle preparations. He was back with the full moon. Phouka had remained behind to see after Winter and Fin, though for them the days were much the same. In truth, Phouka was a bit bored. He longed for court intrigues and gossip. As a guard he'd never been a part of things, always on the outside, but he'd heard and he'd seen. Now he got his entertainment from the telly. He found it to be so contrived. It lacked fire. Passion.

And so with the prince back he had been given leave for the day. He immediately set out to find intrigues. He wandered the park, found a market, sat outside in the chilly air to sip a coffee and watch. Watch and see. Everywhere he looked he saw people with lovers, with friends. He didn't know their lives so some of the drama was lost. But at the cafe he found hope. On one side of him sat two women chatting incessantly about the one's disasterous love life. The friend concurred with the righteous anger over many, many men. On the other side sat a couple who, at first, were the picture of romance. But then he checked a text and the woman...well, she became a bit mad. Angry, yes, but Phouka thought she was absolutely nutters as she questioned him on who he was talking to, grilling him with such jealous fury the Phouka kept waiting for the man to leave. Watching them he saw what others might not see. The man was positively eating up her jealous outburst. It stroked his ego, clearly.

"Hmm." Just that. One small sound. And he sipped his coffee.

[Find him at the cafe or in the park, market, or on the street, wherever works best!]

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The Phouka had quite keen ears and even over the sounds of gossip and squabble he heard his name. He saw Vanessa and smiled. When he caught her eye he stood and waved her over.

"Vanessa," he said warmly. "Come and join me. It is such a lovely day for a visit!"

His smile hadn't changed, the warmth of sunshine and things she could never have. Vanessa frowned, then stood and gathered her coat and her mug to go and join him.

"Phouka," she greeted him, the impossibility of calling him anything more formal (Mr Phouka sounded ludicrous) cutting short all temptation to ask him to address her differently. "I was not sure that you would remember me."

Their encounter had been brief, after all, if horridly memorable in some aspects. Thinking of that spirit inside her never failed to make her feel dirty, soiled.

"Of course I remember you, my friend," he said merrily. His eyes sparkled with humour and joy at the very sight of her. There were far too many mortals he did not know and so he treasured the ones he did.

"How have you been? Here, let me hold the chair for you..." he said, springing to his feet to pull the chair at his table out for her.

Friend. Vanessa was quite certain that she had not earned that title, but when he moved to pull her chair for her, she held her peace, appreciating the gesture. She set her cup down, then sat down, and put her coat on the back of the chair. "Thank you. I've been..." Just fine, she had meant to say, but she found herself loathe to lie to the Phouka. He was a fantastical creature, and as such, was one of a few that might understand. Still, her natural reserve had her equivocate. "I've had better days," she admitted, with a brief, brittle sort of smile.

"Ah, this is a tragedy," he said gently. "Do you wish to tell me or would you prefer to keep your secrets close to your heart?"

He put no pressure on her, it was a truly genuine question.

"If only I knew what they were to disclose," Vanessa answered, just as honestly. Then she might make an informed decision. "And how have you been?"

"Ah, I have been very well, though I grow weary with the world as it is. I miss the court. I do not have leave to go, though, so I remain with my favourite and my prince," he replied.

"Is your favourite... Winter Wisp?" Vanessa asked, eyebrows raised. The way the pixie talked of the Phouka, she hoped so, for his sake. "He sounds very fond of you."

"It is, indeed," he smiled. "I am so glad to hear he is fond of me for I am as fond of him as I can be. We are the very best of friends and will always be together."

It was odd, hearing the Phouka speak much the same words as Winter. She almost expected them from the pixie, in all his child-like naivety, however old he might actually be. But she had not expected it from the Phouka, for some reason. "Here's to hoping you are right," Vanessa told him honestly, raising her mug to take a sip of now tepid tea. She briefly pursed her lips in distaste, and set it down again.

He nodded in agreement, raised his cup, then drank as well with all the solemnity of any ritual of etiquette.

"I believe I am," he replied. "I have many friends, but he is my favourite. It is easy to be loyal and true to him than anyone else," he added, then rushed a quick caveat- "...And the prince, too, of course."

"Willy," Vanessa surmised, watching him with her usual sharp gaze. "Are you in his service?" He certainly sounded like it.

"I am, yes. I am the prince's chosen servant, selected from all my kind to protect his evermore and his brother," the Phouka replied with a note of pride. Weary as he was of this world it was a great honor to be the chosen Phouka.

"I know so little of your world and your customs," Vanessa allowed, after a beat. "Will you tell me more?" She had done research, of course, since first meeting Winter Wisp, but she did not trust human lore on the Fae.

"Of course. Shall I tell you of the Phouka?" he asked. Without her answer he pressed on. "We are made of mud by the Queen herself and she breathes life into us. We all look the same and we are made to be guards for the Queen and her princes and princesses. It is a great honour to be taken out of the palace. As Phouka we have limited magic. Shapeshifting, mainly. I am young but I have learned to be a dog and a horse and a raven. One day I hope to be many more creatures. We are ferocious when a threat is near, but we love a good laugh. Often we will come across mortals and become the horse and let them ride us. Then we gallop toward water and throw them in to the Glaistig and the Selkies," he chuckled.

Much as Vanessa was dying to ask questions and find out more about these different species - the Phouka, the Glaistig, the Selkies, and all the others - she forced herself to keep them general for now. "Are there truly two courts, or is that just in our lore?"

"There are three. There are the Seelie, as I and my kin are. And the Unseelie...evil, wicked, twisted fae who serve the Queen of Air and Darkness. And then..."

His voice dropped to a hushed whisper.

"...There is the Iron court and they are the most frightening of all. We do not speak of them."

Of course, it was the last that most piqued Vanessa's curiosity, but she knew better than to push. She would, however, do some more research, especially since most lore only told of two courts.

"All right," she acknowledged. There were plenty more questions to ask, anyway. "So if the Queen of the Unseelie is of Air and Darkness, is yours the Queen of Earth and Light?"

"She is the queen of Air and Light," he replied. "We go to war every year in the summer and winter to see who will control the air, you see. When the Unseelie win we have brutal winters or mild summers. When we win the summers are glorious and the winter in mild."

"Twice yearly wars," Vanessa stated quietly. "That must be exhausting."

"It is as it always has been," he replied, being quite sensible about the whole thing. "For those battles the Seelie and Unseelie live in relative peace for the rest of the year."

Vanessa nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "So climate change is more to do with battles between the Fae than anything else?"

"Hardly," he chuckled. "That is blood on your hands. The fae only have so much power. No, that destruction is entirely mortal."

The Fae only had so much power. Vanessa thought that some of it was to do with how much power they were given by others, like a lot of power dynamics. "The world as I've always known it, subject to the foolishness of men," she noted with a small smile. "Would you live here, if it weren't for Willy?"

"No, miss," he said more quietly, as if he was confessing something filthy and rotten. "I long for home. I miss my kind. We all look the same, you know. All the Phouka. And I miss the intrigues, and the warmth of the throne room..."

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