The sense of purpose was gone. Everything seemed dull, and mute without her presence. Colors were faded, sounds no longer clear. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all in a drunken, blurry haze, for all that he knew. She was gone, and there was no point. His father had taken everything from him, and finally broke Cecil after countless years. The fairy now aimlessly roamed the world, surviving purely on his constitution.

When he wasn’t sleeping, Cecil spent his time drunk, staggering down streets of one city to the next. He was disheveled, a state that she would have scolded while laughing as she ordered him to go bathe. There was no more anger at himself, no more regret. Just a giant, empty, dark hole that Cecil attempted to fill with booze. Gahara faithfully followed the fae, keeping an ever vigil eye over the self deteriorating shell of a man.

Cecil did not notice the stink of corpses that hung heavy in the air, nor the blue hued forest around him. Not even the fairies darting deeper into the forest were noted. He staggered forward, leaning heavily on the tree he caught himself upon. Clouded eyes took in the clearing before him. At the far end of the clearing sat a regal chair of twisting limbs, covered with ivy. The throne of the fairy king.

He scoffed as he took a step forward. Of course he’d come back here. This is where everything happened. All of the abuse, the torture… the breaking of his heart. ”Leave this place, Jade. You are not welcome here.” ”This is mine by birthright! You’d deny me that?” Cecil retorted to the trees in fairy tongue. ”Last warning Jade. Leave now, and never return.” ”Make me.” He had been fully prepared to fight.

When he next awoke, all he could see was the ground wavering beneath him as an angry sea. ’Gahara! Take me back!’ ”Do you know what I had to do to get you out alive? No, now shut it, drunk.” Cecil mumbled something along the lines of ’Stupid griffin,’ and was rewarded with a dangerous dive, a jerk as the griffin swooped, and dropped the fae unceremoniously in a field. From the distance he fell, he did not get too injured, primarily cuts and bruises, but Cecil had passed out once more. He lay within the farmlands outside of the city, and Gahara settled down nearby, getting comfortable while waiting for the drunkard to sleep it off.

Things were not going according to plan. Chartora had left her twin to his own devices after their last job which led to him bedding the wrong lasses. Now she was running for it with a fairly distinctive appearance while her brother got to continue to live it up, stupid handsome face. How did that even happen?

Near as she could remember she broke into the room to warn him about the ladies husbands, they started to scream about the demon in their midst and oh yeah her wonderful brother never one to miss an opportunity to tweak her feathers had the nerve to wink at her before using the only spell he knows to transport the girls elsewhere and him with them. So when the very angry, very well-armed group of men arrived to try to save their wives’ virtues all that was in the room was 6’1 of muscular, well endowed, behorned and black winged her.

Yep. No questions were asked as to who the guilty party was as to their disappearance. Never mind the fact she couldn't disappear a flea. They raised their weapons with shouts of “Demon. Kill the demon.” And she knew it was time to go as well.

Opening a gate behind her, she didn't even care where, she stepped through it making sure to give the ignorant villagers a double bird as the gate closed. Sighing she took a look around to see if there was anyone or anything of immediate danger to her not seeing anything she shook out her jet black wings and decided to get an overhead look.

Taking to the air she used air currents to stay aloft and forgot for a moment all her troubles, just enjoying the feeling of the wind in her hair and over her feathers. Looking down she passed over what looked like farmland and fields, hmmm probably best to avoid people for now. Tilting slightly she saw a field a bit aways from a town and was that a griffon in the field next to a body? Intriguing to say the least as the griffon wasn't eating the body. Her interest piqued she dipped down lower to take a look.

Landing near the edge of the field least she startle the beautiful creature in front of her she slowly started to approach the griffon. As she got closer she realized several things one the body wasn't a body it was alive, if a bit ripe. And two the griffon appeared to be guarding said body, person. Things just keep getting more and more interesting.

Not wanting to upset the large griffon by getting too close to its charge she decided to make herself useful and headed back into the woods she had flown over. Within a few moments her natural affinity for animals had netted her a few rabbits and a deer. Good enough. Going back out to the field she walked towards the griffon and it's charge until she felt she made it uneasy. There she made her campsite and started some of the deer meat roasting. Taking up the rabbits she tossed them in the direction of the griffon.

“Yes I got enough for you too big guy. If you want deer you'll have to wait for us to eat. Not sure what happened here but anyone that has such a handsome creature can't be all bad, yeah?”

As she settled down to wait she started a skin of water boiling, whoever that was was getting a bath when they woke up whether they wanted one or not.

Gahara nestled smugly, having finally acted on his pride. No fairy was going to treat him like shit. Large eyes were taking in everything, from the insects in the grass to the birds soaring above. One creature was far too large to be a bird, and the griffin kept his attention on it. Appearing to be a woman, she was cautious, taking steps not to get too close to him while her curiosity was the drunken, snowy haired man before him.

She stalked off, and Gahara blinked, forgetting about her as she had posed no threat. The time between then and her return was uneventful, but she had surprised the griffin. His owl face carefully regarded her as she cautiously approached ladened with deer and rabbits. A ruffle of his wings and she stopped where she was. It interested him to watch her set up a camp not too far off, and started to cook the venison.

”He wasn’t always like this…” Gahara thought to himself as he ate the rabbits before turning his attention to his friend. As the water began to boil, Cecil finally began to stir with a deep groan. He pushed himself slowly to his hands and knees, head somewhat spinning and body aching terribly. ”Fucking griffin, dropping me.” The griffin gave an angry screech and was instantly charging the fae, who scrambled backwards until he was flat on his back.

Owl face seriously inches from Cecil’s nose, Gahara looked genuinely angry with his half flared wings and aggressive stance over the sobering drunk. ”I am your familiar, I chose you! But I will not continue taking this abuse from you! You will not treat me like Oberon did to you. Do you understand me, ‘Cecil’?” As the griffin yelled at him, Cecil flinched with every emphasized word. His eyes widened with shock and realization, however, and he froze. Gahara was right, and he had been treating him like shit, verbally abusing him the entire time since her death.

Cecil reached up and placed both hands on Gahara’s beak. ”You’re right. I’m sorry.” After a moment, the owl griffin closed his eyes, wings tucking back against his body as he gently pressed his beak tip against Cecil’s nose. ”You’re not the only one who hurts, Cecil. But get up. We have company.” The fae turned his attention toward the smell of food and saw a winged woman. Her wings were black, long hair just as dark, her skin as if she had spent quite a bit of time in the sun. As Gahara returned to his resting place, Cecil pushed himself up and slowly approached the woman.

He didn’t stumble nearly as bad as he had in Feeorin Forest, but his head was killing him. The way it spun threw off his equilibrium. Unceremoniously, Cecil half sat, half fell near the fire and angel woman, barely noticing the red eyes watching him. All he could manage was a slight wave. He had no voice for the common tongue, and she was no fairy, so what was the point of even trying?

Chartora watched the body come alive impassively. The exchange between the owl griffon and the person was interesting. From what she understood from the griffin’s side of things the person was named “Cecil" and had been through some sort of trauma. She continued to watch their exchange feeling slightly like a voyeur from their intimacy.

What sort of trauma could leave a person this broken? No. Chartora nope. This Cecil is not your problem. You can't fix anyone. You are not here to fix anyone. Firmly reminding herself of those facts didn't stop her from unconsciously trying to hide her horns with her hair. Great.

She sat and waited for their exchange to finish and when the person no, Cecil, finally turned and noticed her she felt a faint flush rise to her face. Gods and goddesses why was she always nervous when meeting new people? This was her brother's forte. She had no honeyed words to offer him. Nothing except her own 1500 years of not being accepted. She waited while he stumbled his way over to her and sat heavily. When he didn't speak she looked up and caught his small wave of greeting. Oook. Looks like introductions were going to be up to her then. Taking a small breath she spoke.

“My name is, Chartora. I gather from the griffon yours is Cecil.” Turning to the griffon she spoke to it, “I'm sorry I didn't get your name during the exchange.” She turned back to Cecil now. “I have food and would gladly share but before that you need to wash.”

She took the skin of hot water off the fire and handed it to Cecil. “You can use my tent for some privacy but no offense you stink.”

Turning her back she started to carve pieces off the deer not waiting to see what he would do.

The syllables of Chartora's name slowly deconstructed and reconstructed in his mind over and over, debating on whether or not the name was important enough to remember. What they both didn't expect was the knowledge that she could hear and understand Gahara. Cecil glanced over at the griffin briefly who merely shrugged at him. "Well met, Chartora, I am Gahara. It is refreshing to run into another beast whisperer. I appreciate the rabbits, thank you. But I must warn you, Cecil cannot speak common tongue. He has been cursed and thus cannot speak, think, or write in common. I request you forgive him, for he is not attempting to be rude." The fae took the water skin and went behind the tent to be courteous.

He stripped and splashed the water on himself, scrubbing and washing the grime of untold time off. It would take more than a simple skin of water to get the job done, but at least he was far cleaner, and thus more presentable. Even with the splitting headache, the fae attempted to call upon the magic required to summon himself a fresh set of clothing. Cecil had forgotten what clean clothing even felt like. The shirt he had left unbuttoned as he returned to the fire, and offered the skin back to her with a bow of the head. "Funny, it takes a girl to get you to clean up, but I can't convince you to do shit." Cecil shot him a glare and Gahara chuckled.

Reaching over, Cecil took a piece of the deer, slowly chewing it. "Chartora? Would you happen to have more water available? Cecil has not been taking care of himself since…" 'Enough!' "An unfortunate event." Cecil scoffed, waved his hand and a pack appeared at his feet. Stuffing the last of his deer piece into his mouth, the fae pulled out one of his charcoal pencils and paper. For a long moment, it was held poised over the blank sheet. With a defeated sigh, dark lines began to fill the page. Each stroke was placed with purpose, the emotions in his sapphire gaze clear as day that the pain and anger of the event haunted him.

When he was done, woman was in a heap on the ground at a fairy's feet. By the crown on his head, it was obvious that he was the king, his smile malicious as blood dripped from his fingers. Shifting through the previous drawings he had done, Cecil handed her a picture of a group beating of a fairy child, another of a woman holding the child in a comforting manner. The child and the fairy king standing over a grave stone, and finally the newest drawing. Gahara guessed which pictures he had given the angelic woman. "Oberon was a cruel king, always abusing Cecil. His mother was the only to ever show him love. Things got worse for him after she perished, though no one knows how. For years, Cecil has been keeping away from his father… The woman at Oberon's feet? That was a dear friend, and the last straw for Cecil. He finally stood up to Oberon, and defeated him, but it was far too late." Even Gahara's voice was soft

She understood abusive parents. Her own mother had spent the better part of 500 years torturing her because she wasn't evil enough. But that was not something you brought up in casual conversation or so her brother says. But they were due something of her past. Looking into the fire she started to speak.

“My brother and I are the twin offspring of the mating between an angel and a lust demon. He is younger than me by about an hour and takes after our father more. Because of this he was immediately cast out of hell but because he was demon touched the heavens also didn't want him so he was allowed to live his own life as he pleased. As you can see I take after my mother. The only thing I got from our father is my wings and even those are demon touched.”

She couldn't help the bitterness in her voice as she spoke. Too many years of people seeing a demon first and not bothering to see the person underneath was painful to say the least.

“From the time I was born until I was rescued by my brother over 500 years later our mother did everything in her twisted power to try and turn me just as evil as she was. Anyone that showed me the slightest bit of kindness during that time she made me watch as she did unspeakable things to them before putting them out of their misery. And the entire time she told me all I had to do to end my suffering and theirs was to just kill one small innocent. And I couldn't do it. It didn't matter what she did to me or how bad my body or the bodies of those I had cared about were broken, I couldn't kill that one small innocent.”

She stopped then feeling the tears she hadn't shed in years welling in her eyes. Standing she turned her back to them shielding herself in her wings. Why had she told them all of that? After 1000 years she rarely thinks about that anymore (except in her dreams). Still standing with her back to them cocooned in her ebony wings she spoke softly.

“You can take the tent. I believe I would be more comfortable under the stars tonight. There's a small lake a little ways inside the trees if you wish to wash further.”

Having spoken she started walking slowly towards trees lost in the memories of her painful past.

Broodily, the fae stared into fire as her voice filled the air. A story was weaved about twins, born of the forbidden union of two races who seemed to be forever at war. Too Angelic? Go away! You're impure, you can't stay here. But what was his story? Cecil was a pure fairy, born to the king and the noble woman he had taken for his wife. Was it simply because he was not born male? Or maybe because the child took much of his mother's affection?

He couldn't determine which of them had it worse. The half breed whose nightmare was to watch innocents be tortured, or the heir to the fairy kingdom being the poorly treated jester, a slave, a punching bag? One thing was for sure, they had both cried themselves to sleep, battered and broken each night. His eyes snapped to her as she stood. She appeared to be hiding herself with her wings, attempting to hold her pain in. For the first time in weeks, his heart twisted.

Gahara watched with a smug readjusting of his wings as Cecil stood and darted after the angelic demon. By the time the fae had caught up, she was already at the treeline. He caught her by the wrist and gave her an almost pleading look. Chartora stopped, and Cecil, who stood maybe two inches taller, reached out to tuck her hair out of her face. For the first time, he took in her features beyond just colors. The shape of her lips, the slope of her nose, the graceful cheeks, all combined to make a rather beautiful woman. He had never been one to focus on the prominent features such as her horns, or the wings. Even physical features could lead to ugly personalities.

But she was a fighter, an injured soul seeking to prove herself. If not for herself then for someone else. He knew because he was too. Trying to give her a sense of appreciation, the fae went to give her a reassuring kiss upon her forehead. However, she turned away, preventing his actions from being completed. Confused, he tried to duck into the path of her eyesight. It was hard to work with only facial emotions and hand gestures, but he wanted to let her know what he meant. 'Gahara, help.’ The griffin sighed. ”He's trying to thank you.”

Thank me? What was there to thank me for? The untold deaths because she couldn't or wouldn't kill one? Why would this virtual stranger thank her for that? Where was her brother when she needed him to explain how to interact with another? Oh that's right he was somewhere getting his rocks off and screwing her over in the process.

“I, umm. There is no need to thank me. To be honest I'm not sure what you are even thanking me for.”

She stopped for a moment pulling her hand away to walk a little ways away.

“I don't know how to interact with others very well.” She gave a small bitter laugh. “Shoot them with a bow or stab them with a dagger yes. But actually have a conversation with them? No. That would be my brother's forte. At least if it's in common.” She turned and looked at him again. “If we are going to be honest with each other I feel I should tell you I understand and speak most languages. You could call it a perk of my demon side that my brother never got and I was able to keep from Mother. So if you wish we can converse telepathically.”

She held herself still waiting to see his reaction to yet more proof of her demonic nature. If he was smart he would hop on Gahara and fly as far and fast as the griffon could go.

To someone in this world, she was wanted, just as everyone else had at least one. Despite the odds, and the efforts of malicious souls, she had risen up stronger and faced lesser, yet more perceptibly more cruel hardships. This time, he didn’t restrain her as she pulled her hand away. Cecil tilted his head with curiosity and amusement at the irony of it all.

Here Chartora was, awkward in social situations and was versatile in combat. The fae was also awkward in most social situations, but was trained in the arts of a more intimate setting. That amusement had not left his face as she turned back to him, but it fell to shocked surprise, then careful consideration. A long silence spread between them as his mind churned. ”Well, Cecil? Don’t keep the poor girl waiting.” Gahara sounded quite amused.

”So, you’re telling me you can understand … Fairy?” There was a slight hesitation, but primarily because he did not like to share his race. But she had already seen the pictures he had drawn, depicting people with wings. It wouldn’t take too much to put it all together and figure it out. ”Thank you, for the obvious of helping a drunken pathetic man. More importantly, though, for being true to yourself. You’re not the only one who couldn’t kill. You know the tales of the Feeorin Forest, and the smell of rot? Even as a child, I tried to stop the cause of it.”

Cecil blinked thoughtfully. Perhaps that was the start of it all after all? His compassionate nature was not fairy like of his realm. ”Despite the hardships we have both gone through, we have endured. We are of the same cloth, Chartora, disappointments of our parents, but stronger than they would ever admit. So do me a favor? No matter what others say, remain strong and true.” ”You can do with some of that advice, Cecil. Mr. Hide From Your Woe in Drink.” To this, Cecil turned to shrug at the griffin. ’Hey, I never said I was perfect.’

She shrugged what else could she do under the circumstances? Demons have to make deals, to make a deal you have to speak the language, she got more demon than angel.

“I understand griffon, fairy isn't that much of a stretch. As far as helping you to be honest I was mainly helping Gahara he looked hungry standing watch over you. At first I thought you were dead and he wasn't eating you because of the smell.”

She flushed as she realized how that might sound to them. She started to pace, her feathers rippling in her agitation.

“Ok so umm just forget that. Crap. Umm yes. I do recall some of the tales of the forest. Mad king something along those lines.”

She was completely nonplussed at this point and mumbling to herself about evil parents. Her pacing had sped up without her noticing her wings starting to flare behind her. Then she froze.

“I'm sorry.”

Sitting down she looked towards the fire not really seeing it. Yes she was broken but it looked look he was too. At least the reason he was broken was gone. Her mother was still out there somewhere.