So. Okay. Maybe it was true that that Never stuff that that troll guy made, maybe it was true that it helped faeries. Well, sort of. There was that whole big confusion with the poisoning, Kaye remembered hazily, giddily, stumbling along with a coloured straw hanging from her mouth. One end was all chewed up. The other end had some white shimmery stuff stuck to the end; Never that she hadn't finished off.
Val was going to laugh at her; that is, if she wasn't already high as a fucking kite.
But anyway. Maybe it was true that the Never helped faeries, and didn't make them completely stoned, totally high and off their faces. Or maybe she had tried the wrong stuff; maybe that stuff that was meant to go to the dryad was something really really potent for other folk.
Maybes were a lot of fun to think about, but not when she didn't feel like concentrating.
But anyway. Just maybe she had tricked herself into thinking that she was stoned…? Because, well, she could glamour with and without the Never, so, no changes there. And the faeran pull, the coercion they were so clever with – no different either.
Once again, it was a 'but anyway' situation. She kept getting sidetracked when it was clear to her that there was only one thing she had to do.
Hefting her bag full of spray paint, the cans all rattling together, different colours all depicted by the lids, she waltzed down streets and twisting back ways until she reached a large, bare wall. It was for a school. She had once visited the school. A friend had asked her to come pick her up. A remnant of her previous life, and one of the dullest parts.
Val giggled from her side, holding another bag full of spray tins. The girl was clearly looking forward to this, dull clothes contrasting starkly with her animated face and the tie-die bandanna wrapped around her close-cropped skull. "Ready?" The girl asked her, dropping to her knees and shaking a dark blue can vigorously.
Kaye nodded, mouth dry and eyes shining. Yanking the lid off an already-shaken can of red, she pressed the knob on top down and watched red mist fill the air before her, moving it closer and closer still to the wall until it ran down in little rivulets.
Val had made a million multitudes of rainbows, with dots and swirls and a spray can in each hand. She was dipping and twirling and spinning and shooting with those cans and Kaye paused for a moment, amazed at the girl's vitality even while off her head. Shaking her own, she turned back to her blank selection of bricks and began to spray again, copying Val's almost-dance, just decorating until she became giddy off the fumes too. Her leather gloves, the ones Val hadn't seemed to notice yet, prevented any trace of iron from coming in contact with her skin. It was funny how the girl seemed to think that maybe she just felt like glamouring herself to be like a pixie, slightest tinges of green and traces of it in her hair too. Maybe people just believed what they wanted to believe, even when they were living a real live faerie tale. Kaye supposed it must have been the case.
Pausing to take a breath, she glanced down the wall. Val was swinging her hips now as she walked, kicking her heels up and throwing squirt after squirt of paint at the wall. Sometime long ago she must have swapped her blue and yellow over for red and green; she was now mostly wearing those colours herself, and coughing every few seconds from the fumes.
Kaye looked back up, eyes hooded as she thought what she should do. Eventually a brilliant idea came to her fuddled mind, and she took the red can back in her hand, sinking an entire section into crimson and taking the black and going back over that. Then she hefted the can, the special one with the silver lid – she and Val had taken one each of the silver and gold ones – and began to spray carefully. Even when she paused to allow her aching elbow a slight relief, even when the redhead came to peer carefully over her shoulder, she didn't take her slanted eyes from her masterpiece.
Slowly, a phrase came into existence.
And she poured all of her want, all her love and passion and light-headedness and lust and pangs of any and every feeling into it.
'Roiben', declared the first word. 'Roiben', announced the second. And 'ROIBEN', shouted the third, in large, awkward, uneven, capital letters, the silver tricking down the wall from the copious quantities and the force with which it had been created.
And when it was done and she was breathing heavily and her eyes were blurred from sleeplessness or tears, Val leaned over to it without a word and ran a finger through the wet silver mess, and dragged that same finger over Kaye's cheek, and Kaye finally sobbed, dry wracking sounds that seemed to go on forever. She cried until the silver smudged with the clear and the moon was reflected on her cheeks, and then she cried some more.
It was hard, sometimes, to accept being faerie, to accept loving a faerie, and to denounce everything that was human. And maybe Val actually understood that, somehow.
It was hard to believe, when Kaye really didn't understand a single bit of it herself.
Complete randomness. Just pretend that Kaye and Val met and got high together. Riiight? For Zanisha. It's Roiben graffiti. Yay.