Fable - Ask To New Melodies

[Vidal Van Valo]

Silence. Stillness. Reprieve for one fae's ears, ears that heard too much too often. Ears that heard the whispers of ambition, the off handed remark poorly placed, the jeer of disapproval, the weight of egos upon the carpet of leaves of shifting fae politics. Ears that were finely tuned to the sounds of nature, the warbling of birdsong, the choirs of the wind, the creaking of trees and the reverberation of all manner of feet upon the earth. These ears were adorned with wreathes of ice as they heard nothing but the sanctuary of stillness the owner had created for himself.

Frost gripped a solitary pond where shadows hung heavy and lavish over the reverent corner of Underhill's caves. Crystals of ice descended languidly within the frigid body of water as the solitary figure lay motionless beneath the waters, his eyes closed, yet his mind engaged in thoughts of all the sounds he could not hear, yet could create.

Music notation danced within his mind, to be crossed out, replaced, played again by his inner voice, repeated, considered, noted and memorised. His fingers tremored slightly as he imagined playing various instruments, of producing the sounds both with his body and his weirding ways.

He had dwelled in such a state of voluntary hibernation for a week now. And it had afforded him time to reflect upon what new soundscapes he might create, what lessons he might impart, what gifts he might bestow. Yet time continued on, and Vidal was intensely aware of that time's passage. His talent with music and his powers within that field provided him an acute sense of time keeping.

Vidal might have remained in this state for months, if not years, had he not obligations to the court. He was entrusted to bestow his knowledge upon the child of Queen Mab, Ruosin, to guide them and impart upon them an appreciation and understanding of the music that gave life purpose. It was a duty that Vidal took seriously, and was part of the reason why he had entered such isolation from the world. Much as one might sharpen a knife, he had to keep his ears honed and able to pick up all the subtleties and overtones that might present themselves.

But there was something else that stirred Vidal from his frozen isolation. As notation scrawled upon the parchment within his mind, it soon was not enough to simply imagine such melodies and alterations of air. There was a desire to manifest such things, to create them and set them free from his imagination.

And what's more, there was someone to entreat this very day, someone who might appreciate his talents, someone he might help, and pledge his service towards.

Fingers curled, legs stretched, and eyes fluttered open.

Blackness and resistance from the frost that lurked within the water.

An exhalation of breath, and bubbles rose to the surface, bubbles that became trapped in place from the blanket of ice that lay lovingly over the sanctum that he been created. Vidal blinked and felt the refreshing cold ever more present about himself from his movements. His mind turned to the discipline of the poet and constructed something quickly for himself.

We begin again to do our work,
In the silence we found reprieve,
In quiet we find ourselves alone,
Attentive to our needs.
But now we stir, reborn, no more to lurk,
Our musical wit unsheathed.

So to our task we go without hesitation,
And enrich our fae with deeds,
Care not for careless word that falls,
Or ambition that always feeds.
To hear, to play, to make our way,
To music that we lead.

So I go.
Begone this frost, so I might create,
And be about my tasks,
No longer do I remain still,
To art I must demonstrate!

The ice sheet that covered the pond cracked with perfect symmetry in two clear horizontal and vertical lines, and parted as the water began to rush and move about itself as Vidal worked his method of escape from his self imposed isolation. He allowed the water to push him up, compelled by his natural affinity with the element, and as he worked up through the coldness his senses began to return to him. The silence was being broken, his ears were still adorned with frost, yet he could hear the movement of the water and the cracking of ice, muffled by his self imposed deafness.

He emerged from the dividing ice, water streaming down his person, compelled by his influence. A rush of air and rivulets of water flowed back into the pond as he took steps forward, his feet stepping on the surface of the water as if it were as natural as breathing.

He breathed deep of the air and breathed out a heavy cloud of frosted breath. He took long minutes to enjoy this experience of emerging back into the world. The ice about his ears melted away, and with it, so did he hear everything once again. How the wind carried about it the key of F sharp today, how the water eddied and flowed against the bank, how the sound of distant animals moving about their lives made him feel.

“Excellent,” Vidal said to himself. A high pitched hum rippled abut the water as he said such a thing, giving punctuation to his word, his footsteps on the water providing small ripples that resonated with the frequency required for his dramatic flair.

He placed his feet on the ground, his person now dry from his own effort of will.

He took time to collect his belongings that he would need for his next appointment. A few instruments were placed into cases in slow, loving movements. With but a thought they were then magically transformed to become spherical orbs so that they were the size of apples. As each was handled, the orbs glimmered as if filled with a thousand snowflakes all competing with one another to be paid attention to as they were placed within the travelling trunk.

Content that he had everything, Vidal picked up the case and raised left hand, and willed himself to change form. There was somewhere to be.

Light shimmered about his person as the blue of his clothing resembled the white of his hair, which became a purer white, as his appearance warped and shifted as ice might melt into water, his form transmogrified to become that of a large snowy owl, with wings outstretched, already in midflight as he moved away from the pond that had contained him.

His silent flight to his destination had begun, and he effortlessly weaved and shifted through the place he called home.

To Ceilidh Trahan, Vidal thought, and to serve those of the Winter Court as best I can.


Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

The Trahan Mansion was a sight to behold. Anyone who saw it would understand why Ceilidh Trahan had chosen this place to exile herself to for one thousand years. Her property had somehow – totally on purpose – been built right next door to the Scarlet Hall. Right next door to the home of the Trahan’s best friend, Queen Mab. The tall white wall that surrounded the entire property hid most of the grounds themselves but the mansion was a sight to behold. The mansion was a made of smooth white stone walls and black roofs that slanted up at the corners. It was built to match the architecture of the surrounding Underhill.

Just inside the gate, the entire world changes. One of the many wedding gifts that Mab had given to Traynor and Ceilidh was a spelled dome that emulated weather and light. It made the whole property feel like it was not in an underground cavern. The weather currently was a beautiful fall day with the perfect temperature and a light cool breeze. The sky held the look of a sunrise that was almost fully awake with pinks and oranges painting a beautiful scene over the gigantic pond that sat at the front of the mansion. The gardens and lawns in the back took up as much space as the pond did. It was natural utopia that was meant to house the Trahan’s for generations to come.

This was one of Cece’s favorite times to paint and that is what she currently found herself doing. She stood in her studio that had once been a ballroom, the sprawling room was huge with windows that covered the entire outer wall. It was as tall as both stories of her home and the natural light spilled in.

There were at least twenty easels and an unimaginable number of canvas’ resting about the room. There were also a few piles of ashes that she had refused to let anyone clean up. She was not ready to give up the paintings that she had burned.

Cece’s green thin strapped, flowy dress was covered in paint and some had found its way to her face from putting one brush in her mouth to grab another. Her white hair was up in a messy bun and she was deep in concentration when one of her ladies came in. She knocked lightly and it was about five minutes before Ceilidh finally noticed her.

“My lady, your appointment is here.”

“Shit,” Cece said and tucked the paintbrush behind her ear. She had not planned on painting today, but sometimes inspiration hit and she was compelled. She looked like a mess and in no shape to meet with a potential business partner. “I will meet with him in here, please show him in.”

She turned and started to hum as she started painting again. Mab had told her about a young fae named Vidal Van Valo who played and crafted musical instruments. Mab had thought that perhaps the two of them would work well together since her business was art. Cece had been apprehensive, but she owed Mab for not completely murdering her after what had happened with Asemir.

Vidal would just have to deal with her in her natural habitat. Now that she thought about it, it was probably for the better. She was not a normal businesswoman.

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal moved without issuing sound, his movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were being respectful as to the sanctity of the place as he absorbed all he could of this mansion without appearing to be a tourist. The artistry and purpose of the place not lost upon him as he was ushered in.

He spoke softly to those he had to entreat to enter, and treated each servant that guided him as if they were assistance to one of his own performances, with due respect and appreciation, yet with and air of being preoccupied with other future matters.

His eyes flickered up to each splendour, and he afforded himself time to imprint the visage of the miracles into his mind, so that he might reflect upon it later, and perhaps compose a poem or song for no-one but himself.

The first splendour which struck him true was the spelled dome that created such a visage above him, that cast light elegantly and without flaw. To see a painter with such a source of inspiration was a deeply satisfying thing to Vidal, as if all was right with the world to know that such a thing were true.

A master's hand was here, Vidal thought, and he followed the direction he was given by the servants that served the house. And indeed, a master does reside here, he added.

He affixed his eyes forward, he kept his back straight, and endeavoured to deliver no error in his presentation. There was great potential for greater audiences here, to have instruments within the hands of many more than he alone could provide by virtue of his natural disaffection for most people. He was a fae with a want to solitude and no heart for the ambition of courts, yet, something had stirred within him as of late for a want to provide for his fellow fae, with music, and the tools to deliver such an art further. To this end, he did approach with dignity and self respect, his heart set to speak true, yet without the fawning urges that he might have done in his very early days of picking up an instrument.

Seeking approval from others for every note played. Such folly, Vidal thought.

Vidal often ruefully thought of such moments, but, had resolved within his mind to consider such behaviour as practice with his own personality. To learn an instrument, one must play freely and without fear of mistake, he knew that all too well by now.

Yet, he thought, should I make a mistake here, it might colour me in a poor light indeed, and hamper my ability to create more in the world. I must conduct myself accordingly, he concluded.

He continued on with his passage through the mansion, and entered the ballroom, where his eyes did see the master of the house, the painter who clearly was so recently involved with her work. He entered slowly, as if not to disturb the art of creation that was on display, and stopped some distance away from the one he would entreat and learn of better.

Once his host noticed his presence, Vidal's open hand went to his chest, his movements silent, reverent, as if he himself were simply another servant to deliver news of another guest's arrival. Unassuming yet dignified did Vidal present himself, and he delivered a small bow to his host, his eyes closed as he did so. The mark of respect from one artist to another, and from one who was more familiar with solitude and producing and sharing art in quiet places than the ballroom he now found himself within. Such a place to perform might be earned in time, he thought as he rose.

“It is my most esteemed honour to find myself here in your presence, Ceilidh Trahan. I do sincerely hope I did not interrupt your work. I am Vidal Van Valo. Merely say the word and I can return another time, for I do not wish to tarry the artistry you may be ensnared by, it shall be viewed as no slight, no bother at all. I understand that the process deserves all due attentions,” Vidal said, his words soft and well measured and controlled, all sincerity well rehearsed by tempering his own heart to the task of petitioning respectfully, and his own natural respect for the creative effort. And his own irritation at people interrupting his own efforts to practice, hone his craft, and create masterpieces.


Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh was not sure how long the male had been standing there before she finally noticed him and set her paintbrush down. The other was still in her hair and it would probably stay there until she went to sleep later and finally noticed it. It would then join the pile of the rest of the paintbrushes who had fallen to the same fate. Eventually, one of her staff would return them to her studio. It was a vicious cycle that they were growing reaccustomed to. They had almost one thousand years where she had locked the door to the studio and they had a reprieve from her crazy mood swings.

The male, who was only slightly shorter than herself, bowed to her and she stiffened slightly. Her servants were not the only ones who had to reacclimate themselves. Ceilidh herself did too. She nodded her head to him as he began to speak. She slowly walked in his direction as her blue eyes roamed over him. She chuckled at the fact that they both at white hair and light blue eyes. She wondered if he was a little crazy like she was too. Probably not, he seemed normal and stiff.

She walked around him once before she came to stand in front of him. “Nonsense, I am the one who forgot about the meeting when inspiration struck. Mab told me about you and she thought we would work well together.” She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at him for a second. She was unsure about him at this juncture.

“My business sells artwork to all the courts and the noble families. I have spent many years building this business along with my connections so the thought of bringing in someone I do not know is frightening.” She paused so her words could sink in.

“I am not so easily frightened to not hear you out and think about how a partnership would be mutually beneficial.” She would be lying if she said that she was not excited at the prospect of having someone by her side in a business sense. Traynor had been with her for so long and the void that he left in the business was felt.

“So, Vidal, why should we work together? Why should I add music to my repertoire?”

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Instead of trying to allay his prospective business partner's fears on who he was, he instead struck at the heart of the issue. His voice was measured, but it was clear this was where his passions lay, where is raison de etre truly shone. His voice was soft, respectful to the subject matter, yet delicate as if he were handling a truly precious idea.

“We are all bound by musicality, we all pledge fealty to the domain of sound, witting or no. We are all caught up in the embrace of such a thing whether we're aware of it or not. In each voice there is music, in each scene of life there is music, in every aspect of nature there is music, in each heart is an echo of the melodies and overtones that life's experience has granted us, the good, the ill, the happy, the tragic. It is a universal experience and a universal language. To hear the colour of someone's voice and be affected by it. To hear the sounds of our homes and feel comforted. To experience life's poignant moments with well placed memory as to what surrounded us tonally. It is a great force in this world, and I offer you the chance to tap into such a force, for what ends you seek. To enable music in those who would wish to play, to offer a sonic enrichment and elevation to those who will hear, to provide a path to communication that is sorely lacking within all the courts of the land. It has a firm place in our world. To tap into such a thing will be profitable in all senses.”

Vidal continued after a pause to allow his words to settle, his performance of speech compelled by his own fundamental appreciation of such an element of the world, of his very being. His words became less controlled, more fluid, more vibrant, yet still, with the respect of volume, he remained quiet, his voice tempered by the reverence he had for the subject.

“Music, it all is acquired within us, a dormant force that requires but the right series of notes to unlock, it is a wellspring of emotion, of thought, of reflection, of lessons learned throughout our years replayed and reborn. It is a great healer, a great motivator, a great method of reaching those who cannot be compelled by word or philosophy. We all seek to seek relation to the world around us, to find our place, to impart what we can to others, to communicate, to be understood, to control our fates and for the most wonderful of moments, to have ourselves be heard and seen for what we truly feel and are in the world around us. To enable musicians to perform, and people to hear music in their day to day life, this is what I offer, through virtue of my skill with instruments, both to create the items, the music, and the splendours which produce musicality on their own. Others may hear themselves in the tapestry of music and find what troubles they might cause disruption be allayed by simple virtue of having their emotions be expressed beyond themselves. It is a cleanser of great ill within the minds of any class of people. All it requires is that an instrument is placed in the hands of any soul so that they may have a chance to express themselves, to create great works that will be the pride of any court. Any ball will become enriched by the presence of music, and indeed, competition between musicians can be more intricate and moving than any display of violence or war.”

“The unreachable can be beseeched with but the correct tone, the right passage of music that speaks to their story. The disaffected can be woken up to fresh sensation and involvement in the world. The violent can be calmed and brought to peace, the peaceful can be summoned to think of bringing great acts of courage to the fore. This domain can be yours to facilitate, to nurture, to grow, to see the works of others and know that you enabled this to happen. It would be by your hand that communication between souls was enriched. That communication was enabled, that influence could be heard in the song that lives in the hearts and minds of the people, that the interplay between competing musicians could be enabled, and perhaps, if I am not too bold to say, could prevent conflict between peoples, factions, courts, by virtue of simply being heard for all the intensity that the soul craves to express that so often spills into violence. To be the author of such a story, that would be worth more than any single transaction. It would bring you great prestige.”

Vidal's eyes shone as he spoke.

“I myself am a musician of numerous instruments and magical methods of producing sound, I can perform where you need me to perform to strike at the hearts of those you wish to reach and convince that music is a worthy endeavour, a worthy pursuit. I craft musical instruments, common, and unusual, so that the fae may be able to spend their long lives saying more than words between each other. I craft great musical instruments that can play themselves by virtue of the wind blowing, the rain falling, a single soul's will to hear, or the passage of time or the presence of the moon and stars. Such a devices are unique, and have often drawn all manner of person to hear the music they produce. I teach Queen Mab's daughter the value of music, and such a thing I can do for others you deem worthy too. These things I offer to you, should you find what I say here true. I do not know enough people, I have not the enterprising touch to pursue those who would find themselves benefiting from a world of music. It was only through Queen Mab's direction that I am here in your presence, and the virtue of you yourself being an potent artist who might understand the value of what I offer here today.”


Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh listened to Vidal's very long speech as she paced around room. She was unable to stand still when she was in one of these moods and she hoped he did not take it as a slight to his speech. She was impressed by his ability to say more words in a span of a few minutes than she had said in the entirety of a millennium. She would have to remember to not ask such open ended questions of him, but at the same time she did find him odd and fascinating. He was an artist, no doubt.

"Yes, it was mentioned to me that you are teaching my niece about music. I need to get her over here to paint with me but we have not had time yet." Her niece, Ruosin, was still a thing she was wrapping her mind around. She would be lying if she said that she had not already fallen in love with the little girl though. It almost made Ceilidh want one of her own...almost.

She brought her thoughts back to the present company and smiled at him. She liked him and she believed he could be a good partner to expand with. He was certainly passionate and he seemed to know what he was talking about. There was really only one way to find out though and that was for her to see what he had to offer.

"Please, could you show me what you have as instruments. Also, are you interested in just sales or both sales and performances? Because I can make both happen." She walked to a couch that was near one of her easels and gracefully sat down on it, waiting for him to show her his wares and talent.

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal watched as Ceilidh paced around the room. The agitation of creation, Vidal thought to himself. Good, this one has some energy to them, they aren't some languid artist who creates because it soothes them, they are compelled to act from the impetus of creation. He recognised it completely.

It was hard for Vidal to say at present if he had secured interested or if Ceilidh was simply humouring him out of professional courtesy. Still, spoken was the question that opened many doors. Vidal answered it without a hint that the words he had received, that both performances and sales could be attained, filled his mind with alluring images of possible accomplishments. He kept his cool in spite of such ambitious contemplations. This was no time for giddiness, he thought.

“I'm interested in both,” Vidal said with a pleasing and sincere ring to his voice. His words became short now that he had spoken so much for such a time. There was no need to overwhelm further, he thought, my opening statement has been made. And it has not been immediately declined.

“Instruments,” Vidal said, more to the case that he carried than his company, as if he were addressing his creations to rouse from slumber. He had a small case within his right hand, and he set it down with a satisfying click as the brass feet placed themselves down.

Vidal kneeled down, and opened the case by popping open the latches which made soft snaps as they unsealed the container. The hinge was operated, silent, and within were a collection of frosted orbs the size of apples that contained snowflakes that swirled slowly within them. Vidal took the first in sequence and held it within his hand.

“All my instruments allow for transportation in such a fashion,” Vidal said, holding the orb aloft, “they are resilient in this form, can be carried quite easily, and are attuned to the owner's commands,” Vidal finished and unfurled the orb within his hand so that it rested upon his palm. He did not mention that all of his instruments would respond to his own direction, either from his instruction on how they might play by themselves, or that they would become spheres and return to his side should he find someone trying to steal them from him. Such would information would be yielded in time, should things go favourably. Experience had instructed Vidal well in this regard, for many would simply seek to disappear with his instruments instead of paying a fair price. Not that Vidal suspected such dishonest behaviour from someone with such a lavish home.

The orb melted into a fountain of water, which rushed and formed the outline of a cello in front of Vidal. It floated with a gentle swaying motion, and within a few heartbeats the empty space was filled with a deep dark wood and the pieces that constructed the cello.

“Instruments can be set up with minor arcane enchantments to allow for self tuning,” Vidal said, “which this particular instrument has,” Vidal said. He placed his hand on the back of the neck and tapped it three times with his index finger.

The strings plucked themselves and made minor adjustments at the tail piece so that it was perfectly in tune. This process took only a few seconds, and as the instrument righted itself sonically, the cello glowed the same hue as Vidal's eyes, a signature of his own magic. While this occurred, Vidal took another orb and allowed the same process to unfurl and produce an object that the cello had undergone to appear, this time not an instrument, but a chair perfectly suited towards Vidal's height. It was a chair of what appeared to be made of simple wood, yet on closer inspection had swirling patterns of frost marked upon the surface, that the wood was of mahogany.

“The instrument also allows the user to overlay their playing with but a thought. So one musician can perform multiple parts on their own, looping their playing so that they might make far broader and more complete sounds. It requires instruction on the arcane nature of the enhancement to function, which is where my tutorship shall guide customers. I shall demonstrate the technique.”

Vidal took up the bow, and placed himself behind the instrument and sat down.

And began to play a short piece which demonstrated the dark character of the instrument. A ghostly bow appeared at moments where there were overlapping moments of the music, playing by the compulsion of Vidal himself. Such a practice had been refined over years of isolation, both in the construction of such an instrument that could allow for such a practice and his own implementation of it.

As Vidal played his eyes were closed, lost in the music and perfect rendition of it, the sound filling the chamber with a volume that was unusual even for the deep character of the cello. It seemed as if it were able to fill the space and echo around the hall perfectly, as if it were being amplified beyond what the wood would allow. His head swayed with the character of the music, and it was the most emotion the fae had issued in his time in his host's presence.

The Soundscape

Vidal finished playing, and held the bow within his hand. The cello began to float once again as Vidal let it rest in the air, and rose from his seat.

“All my instruments float in such a fashion when no-one is holding it, to prevent falls and damage to the item. It is not too bold a claim that I can fashion almost any instrument. Instruments such as the violin,” Vidal said, and commanded with an arcane flick of the wrist so that a sphere floated up beside him and dissolved into the shape of a violin, and so too the other instruments he named, “the oboe, the bassoon, the viola, panpipes and many more. I have spent my short life in study, away from the courts, so that I might serve them properly with mastery. And I believe that time is now.”

These instruments formed from the waters of the spheres, some more ornately decorated than others, with gold trim and depictions of leaves and vines. Others were more macabre, with depictions of skulls and etched silver. It was clear this was no mortal's handiwork, these instruments had the very essence of magic woven into their creation to allow the volume to transcend their original form's volume range.

Vidal breathed in, and commanded his instruments to play a harmonious note with one another, and then to fall silent. Each instrument had a volume which was beyond the normal capacity.

He allowed his host to reply and to think, and stood passively waiting for the next turn in conversation.


Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh watched Vidal with rapt attention as he kneeled and opened the case that he had brought with him. She was not sure what was in the case but he handled it with care so she was immediately interested. Her held tilted to the side slightly as she watched him pulled a small orb out of its home.

“All my instruments allow for transportation in such a fashion.”

Mab had sent her a crazy person. He either believed that the orb was indeed an instrument or he had someone captured music into the orb. She had to admit that he would not be the first artist that was a little insane. She was one, after all.

As the orb started to melt, Cece leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands in front of her. She watched it in fascination as it melted and then reformed into a cello. A beautifully crafted cello sat in front of Vidal now and soon there was a chair. Her eyes were wide as she watched his demonstration.

“The instrument also allows the user to overlay their playing with but a thought. So one musician can perform multiple parts on their own, looping their playing so that they might make far broader and more complete sounds. It requires instruction on the arcane nature of the enhancement to function, which is where my tutorship shall guide customers. I shall demonstrate the technique.”

“Fascinating…” her voice trailed off as he started to play a piece of music that drew her in so completely. The dark, melody was one that resonated with her soul as she closed her eyes and listened. It brought up the feelings of sorrow and grief that had followed her so long. When he finished playing, she opened her eyes and wiped the tear that had fallen down her cheek.

She finally stood and walked close to Vidal again as the rest of his instruments materialized in front of her. She wanted to touch every single one and admire the designs that were etched into them. “Absolutely beautiful, Vidal.”

Cece listened as he had the instruments play together and she smiled sweetly while listening. “You have sold me completely. Not only is the craftmanship outstanding, but the way that you store them is a game changer. No longer will fae have to travel in droves to bring their instruments with them.”

“Tell me, Vidal, what do you need from me?”

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal's shoulders rose slightly and then relaxed, the only sign that he had received the response with any sign of joy. The man was controlled. Taut. Composed.

He blinked but once, his pale blue eyes seeming to absorb everything around him without interruption.

“Opportunities to perform to audiences,” Vidal said softly, “opportunities to place instruments in people's hands.” He paused, as if forgetting a precious detail. His eye brows raised as he remembered it, and then spoke on. “I shall leave it to you to state the fair distribution of whatever price you place on such instruments. I have not a head for such numbers. Except the number of instruments available. I have some two hundred instruments already created that I'm ready to have sold onto others. I have been working on them so long I lost track of time.”

He took a few steps to his chair and returned it to the orb form, whirls of wind and water rushing about it as it reduced in size. Vidal grasped it within his hand and span it upon a finger for a moment, as if he was going to become lost in this too. With a casual flick of the wrist he gripped it once more, and placed it back into the case, and rose back up.

“As items become sold, if you wish the number of instruments to have no waiting time before I create them for customers, I would need a place to work. It depends on demand of course as to if this is necessary. I can work with good speed, yet, my current workshop is small, and would slow production down if you wanted to sell a good quantity rapidly. Somewhere closer to where they would be sold. Unless you were content with a waiting time. But that is up to you if you want to facilitate such a thing. It is not vital for now. I use magic in the creation of the instruments I create, both to glean the raw materials, to temper them, to shape them, and to fit them. The process takes...time. All I would need is space closer to where they are sold. It might prove advantageous to have me nearer.”

Vidal looked up at the domed ceiling above them. How the sound carried here, he thought, how wonderful indeed. He looked back to his host and gave a small, barely audible sigh, as if building up the courage to admit something.

He continued on.

“If I am honest with you, what I desire these days is to be more involved in society. I have become something of a recluse. I operate to Queen Mab's direction certainly, to guide her child to appreciate music. But I barely know anyone. I have become lost in my own pursuits of music, of mastering it, of shaping instruments, of crafting sounds and compositions. All I ask is that some introductions be made perhaps. Or at least, a chance to perform to others and see if they might come to me to talk. It's a strange request I know. But I grow so tired of playing alone.”

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Vidal was much more composed than Ceilidh was used to. He did not show much emotion and she was still not sure how she felt about him as a person. He did excellent work, though, and Mab trusted the man with her daughter was enough for Ceilidh to work with him. His words were honest and earnest, she knew that much. He had the same love of music that she had for painting and it warmed her hardened heart.

“I am not the one who figures out the finances. No, I tried that for a little while and it went terribly wrong. I hired someone to figure out the best selling costs to turn a profit. I will just need the list of any money you spend in your crafting so he can make the calculations.” Cece did not know how crafting magical instruments worked, but she figured there was some sort of expense that they would need to consider.

As Videl spoke of needing a workshop, an idea spang to her mind. “Follow me,” she said simply and swept from the room without another glance at him. Her bare feet made little noise on the marble floor as she walked. She led him down a long hallway with walls that held many of her paintings. All of them were from before Traynor’s death. Some were landscapes while others were seascapes. There were paintings of her, Traynor, Queen Mab, and Asemir. These walls showed the long life that Ceilidh had lived so far. Her sorrow had not found its way to the wall yet.

She eventually stopped in front of a set of double doors. The stop was only a moment as she pushed the doors open. The room beyond them was almost identical to her painting studio. This one was set up as a grand dining room would be with a huge table and about twenty ornate chairs around it. The thick layer of dust was proof that this room had not been used in a very long time.

“Would this work as a workshop? Also, if you need a place to stay here in Underhill, I have many extra rooms. You could have a whole wing, really…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down to find herself wringing her hands. “I do not use that many of the over thirty rooms this home has. Our plans for this place died with my late husband.”

Her voice and words were both solemn and she looked back at Vidal. “Sorry, you do not care about my stories. This dining room and this part of the house, I believe it is 3 rooms, are yours if you want them. If you want to be my business partner that is, of course.”

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Had Vidal been a mortal, this might have been the moment to inflate expenses so that there would be a greater turn of profit for himself. But no such dishonesty dwelled within Vidal. He considered the list of expenses he had within his jacket pocket, an arduous task but one he had made so that he would not be so disarmed by such a question. He might not have a head for numbers that connected labour with value, but each instrument did indeed have a price for raw materials.

But this was not the time to hand such a thing over, Vidal thought as he was guided down the hallway. His eyes turned to the paintings, paintings he had never seen before. A master's hand led such a brush to such creation he knew. The seascape particularly caught his eye, although he did not tarry behind his host for fear of losing her in the massive mansion. Besides, Vidal thought, it might appear flattering to take a moment to behold such things, but there was business to discuss still. He looked upon the pictures of the fae that had been illustrated so.

What caused this one to paint such figures, they must be important. He recognised Queen Mab and his host, but not the other. Thoughts danced in his mind, but no hint of his preoccupation with who they might be marked his face. He blinked after seeing each one, as if framing such a thing within his mind, associating each painting with a chord so that he might remember such paintings better. Something might depend on it, he thought.

As the proposal was voiced, Vidal felt the unfamiliar sensation of perhaps finding a place within the world, that he had been granted reprieve from his life of isolation as he so desired. His eyes appeared to soften, as he blinked but once.

“I do, very much I do, you show great kindness and to give me such accommodation...it is beyond what I could have ever have expected,” Vidal replied in regard to the business venture prospect, and indeed to having such a place to stay, turning to his host. And now his business partner it seemed.

“You listened to my story just now, when I picked up the cello,” Vidal said. “It is only proper and right I return your kindness and listen to yours, if you wish to speak it. I do not wish to pry, yet, I am here, and my ears are attuned, if you but give a voice to your experience, I shall listen gladly,” Vidal said softly, his eyes not drifting from his new business partner. He resisted looking about the room in an act of decorum. He would test the acoustics in due time, to explore this place, to see where he might work, might live, but for now, there was something more important to Vidal; that he should hear the story that he might one day have to give music for.

If I'm going to work with her, I should understand her better than just being an art critic to how she paints, he thought. Ceilidh deserves that measure of respect, he concluded.

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh studied Vidal as he looked around the room and she smiled when he accepted her offers. She was happy to hear it since she liked him and she liked what he had to offer. This would certainly add to the empire that she hoped to leave to a child she may have someday. Perhaps she would do what Mab had done and just find someone to provide a means to an end. She banished those thoughts. So many years and it had been fruitless, nothing would change that. She had found some uses for the empty rooms anyways and that brought her some sense of closure in her childless, loveless life.

“My mate, Traynor, died a little over one thousand years ago…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about the fact that it had indeed been a thousand years now. “We built this house so large because we wanted children. As many as we could possibly have, but it never happened. We tried for seven thousand years and nothing. This was the hope we needed, but then he was killed.” Cece paused again. She had never actually told anyone that she had wanted kids and now she had told two people in the span of days.

“I just recently returned from a span of self-imposed exile. Very recently, in fact. I have only just started painting again, as well. It has been…nice.” Ceilidh blinked away a stray tear and looked at Vidal again. “Are you hungry? It is almost time for supper and I know very little about you.”

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal knew that he was to walk amongst those with far more time spent in the realms than himself, but hearing such tragedies occurring almost twice his lifetime ago, it was a humbling experience; to hear that they had shared seven thousand years together, that made him feel as if he were staring up at the night sky's illumination and feeling the distance grow as he marveled at the span of depth between himself and what he beheld.

It filled Vidal was a sense of perspective. For all the thoughts that he had not done enough, not experienced enough, not performed enough for the people of the courts, there was one aspect that provided him solace at this moment. There was time enough ahead of him.

Time enough to enjoy my own tragedies, he thought, catching himself in the macabre aspect and trying his best to enjoy the flow of conversation, however bitter the subject. But he realised that he wasn't alone on dwelling on the darker aspects of life, and that his host still lived very presently with what happened so long ago. Perhaps such an aspect keeps us alive so long, he considered, that we live with each moment that plays out as if it were an endlessly repeating song, endlessly enthralling and interesting for there is so much of ourselves within it.

“I'll dine with you,” Vidal said, snapping himself away from his thoughts, feeling the pressure mount to reply in the brief silence he had left while he had pondered the reply. He realised that he hadn't put the word 'gladly' in there, yet, he could not summon such a thing out of politeness due to his inability to lie. The pleasure wasn't there naturally yet, the prospect of food was something for survival to him. But he understood that it was more of an occasion to be social than anything else. He continued.

“Thank you very much for the offer. And thank you for sharing such details with me. I am deeply glad your painting has resumed. Art does much to guide the mind to where it should be, after declaring where it has been. Or so I think. Great tragedies, great joys, and the myriad of emotions in between, these things can be expressed completely through art, I believe. It is good that you do. And as to your exile, well,” Vidal said and smiled as if regarding an old friend's mention, “I know a little about that decision to seclude oneself so. Not that I suggest that you did so by choice, it's a different motive perhaps.”

Vidal picked up on the cue to provide more information about himself and did so out of respect. He felt himself compelled by etiquette than personal drive, but the two mixed with one another and were soon becoming indistinguishable.

As Vidal began to speak again, he hadn't considered the fact that there might have been servants to tend to Ceilidh as she had being in self imposed isolation. To Vidal, when someone spoke of exile, when he thought of isolating himself from society, it meant taking yourself as far away as possible from everything and everyone else so that there was nothing, no footsteps, no sound, no input from anything except the mind. That he would return to the water and ice and cold, and dwell, and think, and exist in a cerebral state. And even when he returned, he spent a great deal of time alone, making instruments, refining his craft, perfecting the skills he now was able to present to others. And so, Vidal offered his opinion with perspective in mind.

“I find it vital from time to time, to process things alone. For me, it depends on how intensely I need to spend time alone away from sound itself. How...fatigued I am by hearing too much. But, I've experienced nothing in the expanse of time of which you speak. I'm only six-hundred and forty one you see. But. I do know that things can seem intense and quick moving on returning from isolation. You're doing very well to speak to me so...not that you need my flattery,” Vidal said, and produced a small bow of the head and a closing of the eyes for a few seconds, as if re framing the image in his head. His gaze returned, slightly softer than before.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh could not get a good read on Vidal. He was a peculiar fae that she was fascinated and confused by at the same time. She had not realized that he was so young and it impressed her even more at the talent he had in so few years. She started to walk towards the door and gestured for him to follow her. She led Vidal back down the hall they had come down and stopped at the painting for the foursome.

She pointed at them in order. He obviously knew her and Mab, but being able to recognize Asemir was probably a good thing too. “Traynor, Me, Queen Mab, and Asemir. I am not sure if you will ever meet Ase, but I have a suspicion he will be at the Winter Fete and he is someone you should be able to at least recognize.”

Cece started to walk again and stopped at a painting of a new black haired fae between the aforementioned Traynor and Ase. “This is Baenon. He may be at the Winter Fete, but he will literally think of any reason to not be there. You will meet him here at some point, I am sure. He is the closest thing to a child I have ever had. He only comes to see me for a home cooked meal.”

She took off again and this time led him to a small sunroom that overlooked her late. There was a table that could hold six guests comfortably. She took her seat at the head of the table and held right hand out to the first seat on her right.

“Speaking of the Winter Fete, I am assuming that you will want to play there and be introduced to some people?” She sat back in her chair and watched him, waiting for his reply.

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal regarded each painting properly this time, placing names to faces that he did not know, and with each coupling, played a solitary note within his mind so that he might remember them through association. Traynor, C sharp 2, Aesmir, E 5. He did not know why he picked such notes, only that they served his purpose for now.

And then onto Baenon. This time, a tritone played to him, an augmented fifth. Vidal's ears twitched as he formed the association within his mind. Curious, he thought. This one called to me a tritone. He marveled at his own mental mechanisms. He had trained himself thoroughly as a musician, and it bled into all aspects of his life. Even forming new impressions of people, be it painting or face to face.

Memory was such a fickle thing, Vidal knew, the only way to secure social graces was to put effort into such a thing. Remembering who was who was vital, this much he had deduced from simple logic processed soon after he had first stepped foot into Queen Mab's abode to teach.

Vidal took his place at the first seat on the right as directed and sat himself down as if unaccustomed to sitting down at something other than a stool or his own chair. A slight frown marked his face for but a moment, before dissolving like ice in warm water.

“If that's possible, I'd be glad to have the opportunity. I have played to crowds before, but nothing so organised. So...” Vidal said, and resisting saying the word ostentatious. “...lavish as a fete for high society. I'll conduct myself accordingly. I would focus on a solo performance instead of organising the music for the entire event, it would not be my place to supersede everyone else there and what plans are already in place. I would perform, hm, perhaps on piano, or cello. Or perhaps both? Hm. Such a thing can be done. But what piece. Hm.”

Vidal placed a hand to his chin, as if he was accustomed to having a beard, and put his hand down as if finding nothing there was a surprise. He said that he could play both instruments as if it were nothing at all.

“Something which doesn't require more than two instruments, I find myself...how should one put it. Taxed? Strained? By the use of my affinity of sound, I can accomplish a great deal to provide and enhance the nature of music, but such practice can leave me...how shall I say?" He sucked air between his teeth quietly as he found the words.

"Unable to entertain a conversation properly afterwards, to say the least." He paused. "I'll balance myself appropriately. I won't strain myself too much on my first outing, nothing too difficult, yet something with heart. With soul to it, that might reflect on my recent experiences with the Winter Court.”

Vidal's eyes flashed a brighter shade of blue as he considered this, his thoughts considering the wonders of performance before the crowd. So many people that might pay attention to his performance and comment. Am I ready for such a thing, Vidal thought, and immediately answered himself firmly and without hesitation.

Yes. Yes I am.

“Is there anyone I should be careful of? Any...guiding principles that I should adhere to? I don't want to make a fool of myself, nor do I want to inadvertently insult someone for a fact not known. A musical performance is my domain,” Vidal said confidently, and then his voice softened, “Yet, navigating the intricacies of high society, that, that is something new to me. Terribly new. Queen Mab respects my craft and skill, and finds me useful for her child, and has been most kind. As have you. Yet I don't know what to expect from the politicking and gossip of those of this court and beyond. I've heard much of the power of such a thing, how it shapes the overtones of respect. And, well, frankly, I don't want to cause any commotion to you, for our joint business effort in my first proper outing. The more I know, who I know, the better I can avoid calamity I think. I hope. I appreciate your guidance here.” Vidal said, revealing his own vulnerability at this moment.

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh watched and listened at Vidal worked through his process for figuring out what he was going to do for a performance at the Winter Fete. She was thoroughly enjoying watch his fascinating brain work as he spoke of his instrument options and what piece he would play. She actually found herself leaning forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands as she listened. Cece was smiling at him by the time he had figured it all out.

“Hmmm…” She thought about his questions. “I wish I could be helpful in terms of fae to look out for, but I have been gone for so long and I have not really caught up on the gossip. As for guiding principles,” her pause was longer this time. Cece really wished she could be more helpful.

“I know this is going to be little help at the moment, but it is something that you have to experience. I would be honored to be your date for the Winter Fete. If you would allow me to be at your side. I will be able to guide you through everything you need to know while we are there.”

“I also do not think you can cause calamity, Vidal.” Ceilidh chuckled as a fae woman walked in. She was petite with long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. Her clothes consisted of a simple pair of black pants and a blue shirt tucked in.

“Lady, supper is ready if you are ready.” Cece nodded and the woman disappeared. It was a few minutes before she and another woman brought two trays into the dining room. They set them down in front of Vidal and Cece before leaving and returning with glasses of water. On the plates sat three lamb chops with a red wine reduction drizzled on top. She really hoped he was not a vegetarian.

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal's exterior remained almost entirely unphased from the words delivered, yet his internal mind was quick with eddies and falls of thought as to what Ceilidh meant by her language. The only physical sign that he was enduring some inner discussion with himself on the nature of what was being proposed was a stiffening of the back, a tiny raising of the eyebrows. He was tempted to ask outright to dispel his confusion as to what she meant by 'date', so that he could make it clear that he wanted to keep their relationship very much firmly in the realm of business, but he thought the better of it. Such a reaction, he reasoned, would show his inexperience with such social events before they had stepped into the fete, and would only make himself seem like an over exacting fool, a clumsy thing to be discarded in favour of someone else perhaps.

His thoughts flowed thusly; that it was better not to insult one's host and business partner with such a rebuffing, especially so early in a business relationship. It was a gesture of goodwill and no better guide could one could ask for. This was not the time to be pedantic, or a fool who can't accept a simple offer without reading into it.

He had never been in business with anyone before, and while his mind was quick to try and prevent potential calamity before it had even emerged, he knew such a reaction should not be acted upon for fear of inflaming it further. Calmly he would behave, calmly he would consider, calmly he would display mastery over himself.

As they waited for a meal he considered what best to say in return to such an offer. He assured himself that there was nothing the matter, easing his mind from the floundering emotion he felt compelled to act upon yet did not agree with any more through victory of his rational mind over such a impulse. Before he knew it, the plates were before them, and his mind had now become easy to exist with in this moment. He did not look at his meal to begin with, instead, choosing this moment to reply with the same soft words as before, as if his mind was not so recently recovering from his own panic to prevent possible disaster.

“Thank you, I accept your kind offer,” Vidal said sincerely, bowing his head and closing his eyes to show his genuine affection by the offer. He opened his eyes after a heartbeat and looked down at the meal, and then back up with a slight smile that was just breaking into something other than politeness. After all, business had been struck, and there was an opportunity here to simply exist in society, as he had asked for. A meal was an occasion unto itself, and a meal shared was an exception to Vidal's life instead of the common rule. He breathed in and smelled the richness of the wine reduction.

“My my,” Vidal said, taken aback by the sight. He cut into it and tasted it, and was awash with flavour. His shoulders relaxed, immediately remedied by the flavour of the meal. He chewed slowly and swallowed. He kept proper etiquette as to not to seem like some bumpkin who might wave their cutlery to emphasise whatever point they had over the dinner table. He lowered his hands to speak, respecting both the dish and his host.

“This is far too good,” Vidal said, his voice slightly louder now. “You are most generous to me to offer me such a dish. I am used to a far simpler meal, one designed to simply nourish the body so that the mind can continue to work. This is an experience unto itself. I think I understand a little better why so many choose dining as recreation instead of such an essential thing to do to keep one from fainting during their work. Hm.”

Vidal ate a little, enjoying and savouring each bite with flickers of visible delight upon his features. All thoughts of calamity, for now, were gone. He now spoke a little easier, a little less rigidly.

“It seems, if I am not mistaken of course, that we both will be engaging with the current flow of society, tipping our toes into the water, as the phrase goes I think. I'll learn all I can, as it might prove essential to garner good will with potential clients. Who knows who might approach for instruments afterwards? I promise not to be gaudy and gauche with my skills and awaiting wares. I don't approach music as if it requires a carnival barker, nor the instruments I craft. Each one will find a proper owner. There's a subtle destiny in such things. A fate, if you will, for all instruments to lend themselves to the world in the proper fashion, if they have but the right hands and hearts to guide them to where they should be.”

Vidal continued to eat with pleasure, and suddenly realised how much he had spoken so freely. He swallowed another morsel of food and spoke again.

“What drives you to paint, might I ask? You do so with masterful skill.”

Ceilidh Trahan​

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh ate a few bites of her lamb and waited for Vidal to accept or deny her offer. She was not asking him as a romantic date, she had a feeling that Queen Mab would find a way to set her up with someone sooner rather than later. She just knew that being seen with Ceilidh and the Queen would be good for their joint venture.

Cece was thinking that it seemed like this man had never eaten anything so fine and her thoughts were quickly confirmed. "I cook sometimes, but I save that for when Baenon comes to visit. He is a family friend who is like a son to me. He was very close to my late husband and still is close with Asemir. I will introduce you to him if he deigns to come to the festivities." She knew that the only way he would come was if Mab forced him.

"You do not need to worry about the Winter Fete. When I started my business, I approached many people at events to drum up business. They will either show interest or they won't but it is hard to offend the members of the Winter Court." Well, Trahan had drummed up business using his charm and good looks. She had taken a backseat to form the relationships that led to the long term clients she had now. "You are thinking too much into it, Vidal."

His next question caught her off guard slightly. She had never been asked this before, surprisingly. "I have just always painted. I do not remember a time when there was not a brush in my hand and paint on every piece of clothing I own. It takes me to another world and on an epic journey. The light in peoples eyes makes everything worth it."

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

Vidal absorbed the new name. Baenon. He applied an F sharp to the word so that it planted itself within his memory. His internal sounding board played a few contrasting notes in comparison to the previous names that he had received so far, first introduced when he saw the paintings. Vidal felt a twinge of satisfaction as he created a small melody for himself between the tonal characteristics of the names he had been made aware of.

Upon hearing that Ceilidh thought he was overthinking things, a sense of dismay washed over him, for the fae was considering his own future, his own path in high society that could create a shining future for himself or lead himself into disrepute. He gripped his fork tightly for a moment and then relaxed, and stabbed another piece of lamb for himself.

My business partner can't stop me from taking all the precautions I can to make this a rousing success, Vidal thought. If that means overthinking things so that I don't make a foolish mistake, well, such is my path. Ceilidh is not a new comer to the court, she has years of experience in such circles, and friends in high places. She has afforded herself space to be relaxed about the next social event. For me, it is my first demonstration of skill to the nobles of fae society, and I cannot allow it to fail.

He did not indulge in the luxury of explaining his position. Instead he cut with a swift stroke of his knife.

He felt an odd twinge as he heard the response to his question. An odd blend of shared kinship and time of youth, yet, the last point, about the light in people's eyes, it offered a prang of pity within Vidal.

“It does?” Vidal asked, his eyebrows carrying now a hint of frost about them, his affinity emerging from him as his emotions gave expression to his controlled face. His expression remained neutral, his voice soft, yet that frost crispy illustrated something of what was within him.

“Curious. We are similar in that we have known our art for as long as we can remember. But, we are different in what sustains us. For you, you say the light in people's eyes makes it all worth while. I am often denied such a reception, to be able to witness such a reaction, depending on how much I exert myself. The light's in people's eyes. It must be nice to see such a thing. Painting is something you can craft and witness people marvel at long after you have laboured. My field is far more...transient in effect. Although, saying that, my self-playing instruments do allow a performance to be repeated. Just as you immortalise those you paint, their mood, their personality, upon the canvas, I hope to have instruments that might echo my own performances for those who wish to listen. A unique selling point, and a reason for owners to return. For more music to play at but a whim in their own homes, either from myself or fellow performers. Even the owner themselves, should they seek to hear themselves again long after they have put their mind to play.”

Ceilidh Trahan​

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

“I do not see the faces of many who purchase my art. Such is the way of this business, but I see the ones that matter.” Ceilidh thought back to the look on Mab’s face when she presented her with the portrait she had painted. It was not just a painting of the Queen. It was a painting of who the Queen was as a person, it was her inside and out. It was perfection and seeing Mab at a loss for words was the cherry on top.

She finished eating her lamb chops and sat back in her chair, studying her new partner. “I look forward to our partnership, Vidal, but I do have some work I need to do and I believe you have some to do as well. Is there anything else I can get for you right now?”

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

That too would be the way of things for Vidal. Not seeing the enjoyment of those who would appreciate the created art in their own home. But a live performance was a different creature indeed, one could be influenced by his expression, by his fae influence over the aspects of melody. He felt a sense of privilege in comparison to the art form of painting in this moment.

Vidal finished his meal and set the cutlery properly upon the plate to indicate he had enjoyed it, and considered the question. A slight bit of hesitance and then a reply.

“I don't suppose you have a fresh faced journal I might have? I am on my last pages of my current one and I didn't have chance to buy a new one before I came here. I feel you've give me a lot to write about.”

Ceilidh Trahan

 

[Ceilidh Trahan]

Ceilidh smiled at Vidal. His request was a simple one and she did had a few empty journals sitting around her office. She stood gracefully and looked down at him, "I do. They are in my office. You can follow me and I will get you a couple."

She walked out of the small dining room and down the hall. She heard him move to follow her. The walk was not very long as she liked to keep her office near the front of the house. She opened the door to a bright room that had every wall covered with bookshelves except for the two huge windows. Her desk sat in front of the windows with papers scattered over the surface. Two armchairs sat in front of her desk to accommodate any guests she had for meetings.

"Will two be enough for you?" Ceilidh asked as she went to one of the large bookcases and pulled out two leather bound journals. She opened them both to ensure that they were actually empty before walking back over to Vidal and holding them out for him.

Vidal Van Valo

 

[Vidal Van Valo]

"Two will suffice perfectly, yes," Vidal replied, and took the journals gently from Ceilidh. He gave a small satisfied hum of approval as he felt the leather, knowing that he might refer to his notes some years in the future if all things played out well. No reason not to hope for such a long business relationship he thought, his optimism fueled in part by the delicious meal he had so recently received.

"You've given me everything I need to settle in and start work, so I'll find my way back and bid you goodnight. Thank you for being so welcoming, and giving me this opportunity. The meal was delicious. Come find me any time, I'm sure I'll have work to present to you when you do."

With that, Vidal gave a small bow, matched by a respectful closing of the eyes, and turned to find his way back to his place of work and chambers. It was the beginning of a new phase of the fae's life, one of high society, one of industry, one of renewed and purposeful artistry, and as Vidal began to work and write, his thoughts as to how things might turn disastrously wrong faded, instead replaced by thoughts of how his creations might make things right for those who might buy them, and the fae who believed in the value of selling such things with him.

Vidal began to write and design, and in so doing, justify the trust that had been placed upon him.