we are bright

the fair folk are born with silver tongues, his mother once said to him, and they spin golden stories. do not give them anything willingly.

he should be only minutes away from his hut, but he may have become lost somewhere under the cover of the stars. with a sigh he pushes through the brush before him.

‘are you weary, traveller?’ it is like a bell has rung, and he turns and sees a girl with flowers growing out of her skin. ‘may i have your name?’ she asks.

‘no,’ he says, remembering. ‘but you can call me icarus.’

she tries the name on her lips and her smile twists when she realizes it is a false one. still. ‘icarus,’ she says, ‘who was in love with the sun. i wonder if you will meet the same fate.’

‘and would you be the sun?’ he is almost enjoying the game, the thrill of knowing that any word misspoken could be his last.

‘i am not. but i would like you to be in love with me.’

you would like me to give myself to you, he thinks, but what he says is, ‘it is late.’

‘yes.’

‘i was on my way home.’

‘yes.’

‘will you permit me to leave?’ he asks finally.

her grin widens. ‘perhaps. what do you offer in return?’

his mother had said: make no promises with the fae, and especially none you cannot fulfill. they will twist every word that you speak.

so he takes her hand and brushes his lips against the back of it. ‘i offer you nothing.’ he tells her, ‘i give you this kiss freely and separately, without obligation.’

she takes back her hand but her eyes dance with light. ‘then i suppose i will let you leave. freely and separately, without obligation. come see me again. i shall be very upset otherwise.’

make no promises. ‘we will see.’