Driftwood (Tala & Nell)

The following fictitious events take place in any reality

Tala

Tala sat with her feet knee deep in the muddy banks of Northern Keshmar. Baby alligator-like animals swam around her, their little mouths snapping at flies and tiny fish. Being a Pixie was about belonging, but Tala was an odd-ball. Most Pixies had normal affinities, and they got along and spent their time together. Tala had an affinity for animals that no one wanted. Sometimes, it was wire-haired fluff goblins with huge narrow ears and long tails, lumpy bears with rolls of hairless skin that burned in the sun, or these little snappy gators that had spine spikes shaped like the constellation Cepheus and jagged wings forming off their arms (though they didn’t work), Tala was drawn to them.

It was an isolating affinity.

She squished her toes into the mud, which stirred a bunch of tadpoles up. The sound startled some birds. She looked up toward the trees and saw Nalton, a Pixie, standing at the base of a tree across the water. She stood and mucked her way across. “Hello.”

“Shh. There’s a nest of babies in that tree.” Nalton pointed up.

Nalton was lucky: He had an affinity for squirrels. They were soft, fuzzy, silly, mischievous at times, cuddly, warm…

His curly red-brown hair and milky blue eyes held her attention for a second. She looked away.

Where? Tala looked up toward the tree, where Nalton pointed. In the tree, she saw two little fluffy white squirrel noses peeking out from a nest. They were looking around, and their minds were fixated on their mom (who was not home).

Awwwwwww, Tala admired in her head. She reached for Nalton’s hand and squeezed it.They’re so cute.

How are your lizards? Nalton asked. He glanced toward the water, where all the babies were hunting for anything they could find.

Snappy. I hope your squirrels stay in their tree. She sparked, nervous.

“Their mom has gone out, but she uses the log network,” Nalton explained.  He kept holding her hand. With his other, he pointed toward a series of branches and fallen logs and trees that could be used in unison to reach across the various waterways. “She won’t be near the water.”

“Good.” Tala leaned closer to Nalton, but then she realized she was leaning closer to him and she stood up. She hadn’t noticed him until the last two years, and then she’d started to notice him everywhere.

“I saw your new treehouse,” Tala said. “Are you moving out?”

Most Pixies moved out from their parents house when they reached an age that they wanted more privacy, or maybe to be married (which also was a privacy thing, but different). Maybe Nalton had picked a wife already.

“Ah…” Nalton looked up the tree.

Tala blushed a bit. He must have heard her mind. Plus, she was holding his hand. Maybe it made him uncomfortable. She stepped away, but she had nothing to do with her hands, so she stood there, waiting.

“My parents think my presence has become mutually intrusive,” Nalton finally said, with a sort of question edge to it.

“Intrusive? Why?”

His skin flushed pale. Not as pale as Tala (she was albino), but still pale for Nalton. “My imagination is growing up.”

One of the baby squirrels was on the branch, out of its nest. Nalton out his hand up and the squirrel ran onto his palm, up his arm, and ran back even faster than it had darted out. It flipped around in the hole and its head peered out.

Did you see that? Nalton thought, excited.

Yes. They’re adorable. They were, Tala loved their snowy white fur and their speedy moves and their nerves.

Nalton’s eyes were on her. She glanced at him and smiled.

Yes, he thought, about the adorable squirrel comment.

Any second Nalton was going to figure out Tala was boring and leave.

She didn’t want him to leave. She liked talking to him, and she liked the way he blended with the world when he was feeling something he didn’t want to share.

“Can I come over and see your treehouse? I can help…”

Are you moving out? 

Soon. Yes, She decided in that moment. It had to happen eventually. Mostly her mom and dads didn’t mind them there, something about cherishing every second of their existence. She had her older twin brother Faily, and then her two years younger twin brothers Doran and Lyran. Tala was the only albino with white hair, while the others had various skin tones and various shades of red hair.

They were her family.

Moving out was inevitable.

“Why?” Nalton asked.

A big fluffy brown squirrel ran onto Tala’s foot. She reached down and put her hand out of it and it accepted her! Her eyes lit up as she looked at Nalton to show him.

“Everyone does around this age, right?” Tala answered.

Where are you thinking of moving?

His mind wondered if she would miss home, but it was softer than the first thought.

Tala couldn’t tell if Nalton was speaking with his mind because of the squirrels (one of which was now nestled in Tala’s arms), or because his thoughts were instinctual and she was picking up on them.

She liked Nalton.

She wished she could move into his treehouse and be with him. He was kind and he listened to her and he didn’t mind the animals she liked.

“Somewhere,” She said carefully. “A tree. I was looking for trees out here…”

Nalton laughed, all warmth. He looked at her for what felt like forever. Tala crossed one arm over her chest and grabbed her other upper arm.

“You could,” Nalton said, finally. “There’s plenty of room.” His mind filled with images of his treehouse, but then he imagined it completed. Instead of bare wood, there were lanterns, a small area for food storage.There was a nook for a bedroom, and big windows.

Tala looked away. That was weird, so she looked down at the squirrel.

“It looks big,” Tala commented.

Nalton nudged her a little. She took it as a cue to walk through the woods, but she also caught his eyes. If she lived with him, it could be a home. She imagined the same thing he had thought, but she added in some pictures in frames and a warm fuzzy rug.

“I could show you,” Nalton suggested.

“I already asked,” Tala teased. She set the squirrel on the ground, but it ran up her leg and nestled on her shoulder.

Nalton offered her his hand. This time, he wanted her to hold his hand.

Tala tried not to spark against him, but her fire was glowing warm and bright. She took his hand and apologized for any bits of heat that were uncomfortable.

“How difficult is your fire magic when you’re working with animals?” Nalton asked. “Do you ever get angry at your father for it?”

Tala’s biological dad had fire magic. He’d brought it into her family, but he’d also brought life into her family. Before him, her other dad and her mom hadn’t been able to bridge the gap in their marriage. When her biological dad came into the picture, her mom was healed and both her dads fell in love with each other and her mom. His fire was as much part of her family as he was, and he was the reason she was born.

“No,” Tala said, honestly. No matter how inconvenient fire was (especially in a treehouse), it was worth it to have. “It’s exceptionally bad today,” She added. Most days weren’t so intense, and she would have to learn to control her fire better if she was near Nalton more.

“The air is unusually dry,” Nalton mused, like it explained why she couldn’t help but spark everywhere he touched her. “I wonder if we were due for a drought. How would the animals survive?”

She had no idea, but she didn’t want him to think she was abnormally sparky for nothing. Tala pushed past her shy, in one gallant moment, where she looked at the ground and said in her mind, loudly,  I like you.

Nalton stopped walking. He stopped existing, and then he was warm in his own way. He kept walking, almost at a skip-pace. “Your lizards frighten my birds.”

“I know they do. I’m sorry.” He was rejecting her, that way.

Nalton stopped at the base of a tree. He turned to face Tala, and dipped his head a tiny bit. All of his forehead freckles were there, visible at the edge of his hairline.

Would you like to enter, Tala?

Was that not a rejection before? Maybe what he meant was that…maybe she made him nervous.

Tala smiled. Yes. She opened her wings wide, and made sure they caressed Nalton. She burst upward, to the treehouse he was building.

Nalton landed just behind her. His hands kneaded each other. “I was picturing a bed in this alcove,” he saids. He moved toward it, and pointed at the same time. “Because it blocks the morning light but still catches the evening sun. And a cabinet for food, a table…”

“A real bed or a hammock bed?” Some of the Pixies liked hammocks, but Tala couldn’t imagine being comfortable in one, especially if — someday — they shared it.

“I’m not sure…”

Tala stepped closer to him. “Nalton?”

She forced her sparks to stay inside her body, but inside was a fireworks display.

Nalton reached for her hand again. “Yes?”

Tala kissed him. Do you see me this way?

His wings wrapped around her. Tala slipped hers beneath them, around him, so there were two layers of wings. He pulled her in tighter, like a little cocoon, and he kissed her. His voice deepened, something feral alive inside of him. “I see you, Tala.”

Tala moved herself as close to him as possible. She let herself spark, but kept them cool.

Somehow, in the last hour with Nalton, everything had shifted.

Nalton pressed his forehead to hers. “Let me be yours,” he whispered.

“Only if you’ll let me be yours.” She kissed him, just as the sunlight filled the biggest window and flooded the room with the soft goodbye of a day Tala wished would never end.

–

Nell

Nell laid languishly across the large bed. It was his favorite time of day, when the heat of day began to evaporate and the coolness of night took over.

Drey had his eyes on the window, instead of on Enny or Nell. He turned back, eyes lit up and mind concealed. He nudged them both, though.

It wasn’t often that Drey wanted to speak expressly with words, aloud, but when he did it was something powerful and profound.

Nell rose from the bed and peered out the window, Enny beside him.

Walking through the village, their eldest (and only) daughter together walked with her hand in Nalton’s. Nalton, another Pixie from the village, and one that they had favored for Tala since early childhood.

It was easy to see when two might come together, but Nalton and Tala were both too shy to admit anything to one another.

“Nalton?” Nell said, offended that tonight, of all nights, one of them had found a way to bridge the gap.

She was too young, still. She had years to go before she hit her first century.

“It’s about time,” Enny commented. She kissed down Drey’s jaw, her hand on Nell’s back.

“Time for what?” Nell asked, feigning ignorance. Mostly, he was worried what time it was. Time to admit feelings, or time to reproduce?

Tala absolutely could not reproduce yet.

Nell wasn’t even a century old himself!

“It will never be about time,” Drey commented. “She’s too young.”

“You worry too much,” Enny complained.

Enny was too young, still, and yet she had a daughter who was supposedly courting.

“You worry too little,” Nell argued back. He flipped around, his back to the wall of their bedroom. “I thought he was oblivious.”

Drey and Enny sat on either side of him, their arms around his shoulders.

“Tala has a way with words,” Drey joked.

Nell closed his eyes. No. The time for action was now. He got up and looked out the window. They’d stopped at the base of the tree Nalton had been building a treehouse in.

Had Nalton planned this? Planned to steal his only daughter?

Nell started to climb out of the window.

A hand pulled him back in. It was Enny’s.

“We have to intervene,” Nell pleaded. “She’s going into the treehouse unchaperoned.”

Drella was years younger, Drey thought, soft and comforting.

“And we’ve agreed that was objectionable,” Nell countered.

Drey laughed. “Because we were related.” He kissed Nell. “Let me distract you.”

Facts were distracting enough.

When Drey was a child, his mother had forced him to reproduce with his twin sister. Morality had cured Drey of his mother’s misguidance, but he had been through this before: He had six living children with Dreya.

At least Nalton wasn’t family.

Enny laughed. “Nell.”

Nell flopped back against the wall. If they wouldn’t let him go storm the treehouse and demand his daughter be properly courted, then it was Drey and Enny’s fault if she arrived at breakfast impregnated and unwed..

“What about the intervention?” Nell complained.

Drey continued to kiss Nell’s neck. His mind was succumbing to the same threat Tala faced: Love.

Enny joined in, her lips travelling between Nell’s and Drey’s.

“This is the intervention’s intervention,” Drey insisted.

Nell looked at them.

“She loves him,” Enny assured Nell. “Everyone knows it.”

Nell brushed back her bright red curls and kissed her perfect lips. It had taken Drey to see Enny, Drey to see how much Nell loved her and to not be afraid of her.

Tala was painfully poetic: Some twist of fate had allowed Nalton to see her, to see a future.

Who was Nell to deny his children the same thing he craved most?

Who was Nell to intervene.

He turned to Enny first, and kissed her until he felt Drey pulling him the other way and his lips found their way to the pale soft skin of one who had saved them. He’d moved them from survival to thriving, from wandering to home (in Drella’s kingdom). And Enny…she’d been the light that always kept Nell going, the brightness in the dark nights. Where there were monsters to make Nell’s skin crawl as a child, there was Enny’s life in his hands: The most stunning and terrifying monster of them all.

He’d fought so hard against what gave him purpose and hope, laughter and family.

They were right. As much as it pained Nell, Tala deserved the same joy.