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Curse Of The Fae (metal-blood-fire & darkangel76)

darkangel76

darkangel76

.:The Vampiric Fae:.
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Jan 26, 2010
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Angela Connelly sat in front of her vanity mirror as she ran a brush through the long, dark, spiraling tresses that cascaded along her milky white neck only to spill over her shoulders and down her back. She hummed to herself as she brushed her hair, her fingers smoothing it out in the brush’s wake. Her mind wandered over what interesting sorts of things her friend James was going to show her as she was to meet up with him in a short while at his new museum.

James was a long time friend of Angela’s. The two had known each other since high school and had managed to stay close over the long years since those days. Recently, he’d been hired on at the local museum as an assistant curator, helping the senior curator sort through the various artifacts and archives they received on a daily basis. Earlier that day, he’d called her up, giddy and excited, inviting her to meet him at the museum as he had something ‘interesting’ to show her.

All day long, Angela had speculated as to what James could possibly want to show her. Unlike him, her interests in history were few and far between. But, seeing her friend happy meant something to her, so she decided to oblige him and meet him at his work.

As Angela continued to get dressed, she mused over how James always seemed to have something up his sleeve for them to do nearly every weekend as of late. It made her wonder what was going on with him at times. What was stranger was that each thing he planned somehow ended up revolving around her more obscure interests, interests that not many knew about save him. It was odd. But, he was a good friend to her, so she shrugged off his odd behavior and, in turn, found it endearing.

Angela, wearing nothing but her pale pink satin underwear, walked over to her closet and mulled over what to wear. Finally, she settled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a lavender knit top that hugged her curves in the most flattering of ways. Once dressed, she slipped on some socks and a pair of black shoes. She then headed into her modest living area and headed toward the door, grabbing her lightweight jacket and purse as she opened the front door and fumbled for her key so as to lock it up behind her.

The sky was just beginning to darken, the time slowly approaching 8pm. James would be waiting for her at the front entrance of the museum. Angela had no doubts about it. And so she quickened her pace as she walked, trying her bet to make it so that her friend wouldn’t have to wait too terribly long for her.

Finally, Angela could see the museum up the street. As she approached the building, she could make out the silhouette of someone pacing back and forth in front of the doors. She was sure it was James, early as always.

As Angela came to the front of the museum, she quickly ascended the stone steps and gave a wave to the silhouetted figure of a man waiting there, watching her.

“Hi James,” Angela spoke as she raised a hand, waving to her friend. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me.” At that, she gave him a smile and ran her fingers through her hair before putting it up in a sloppy knot with a hair tie.
 
James was nervously waiting for Angela. She was his long time crush, and held a huge portion of his heart.

Even though he knew he was a bit of a loser, and was always rejected, she had always treated him as an equal. So rare when so many others looked at him with projected scorn. James wasn't exactly ugly, but he was awkward. However, Angela never seemed to mind.

James was dressed in black slacks, a blue button-up shirt and a nice tie. He looked professional. Well, his clothing did anyway.
 
His nervousness clearly showed on his face. Nervousness that, as soon as he saw her, turned to excitement.

That's what he loved the most about her. All the insecurities, all the doubt, all the self-hatred.... it slipped away when he was with her.

He greeted her with a warm smile and gave her a hug. "Angela. I have the most interesting Celtic artifact i've ever seen!" He talked with an excited tone, and it showed in his movements.

He took her by the hand and led her to the curator's office.
 
The curator himself was gone, but James had the key. He unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and brought her inside. He took a box from the bookshelf and showed it to her. "It's hand decorated, and proven to be hundreds of years old. But it looks brand new!" he opened it up. "And look at this dagger. With a handle inscribed with a 'curse from the fae'. Isn't this amazing?"
 
Angela just smiled and shook her head. James was such a good friend and she loved seeing him get excited over his work… for once. He deserved to be happy. He’d worked hard to get the position he now had and she had no doubts that he’d soon work his way up the ranks and become one of the best curators the museum had ever seen.

Angela was also touched by James’ gesture. Once again, he’d managed to hit the nail on the head when it came to her more obscure interests. One that she had to admit surprised her that he somehow knew about it. Honestly, she wondered how he did it. If memory served her correctly, she hadn’t mentioned her love for the more obscure mythos since they were in their early teens. Yet, here they were at the museum with him remembering something even she’d forgotten that she’d mentioned once so very long ago.

Ever since Angela was a little girl, she’d had a fascination with the fae of lore. Most kids enjoyed the Greek and Roman mythologies, but not Angela. No. She found herself more interested in the Celtic and Norse mythologies. They were different and in many ways more gruesome than the traditional stuff they taught you back in the day in public school. It was something she rarely, if ever, mentioned since the one time she recalled mentioning it only made her friends stare at her uncomfortably. But that was the way of kids.

“It is amazing,” Angela said with a smile. She gazed at the dagger sitting in the velvet-lined box. She had a strange urge to touch the ancient artifact, to let her delicate fingers gently touch the handle and test the sharpness of the blade. Looking at James, she suddenly asked, “May I touch it?”
 
James usually remembered everything Angela said. They were researching the Fates of Greek lore in middle school, and she had said to him, 'God this is boring. I wish we could study the Norns from Norse mythology. The Norns were like the Fates, but so much more interesting.' That had gotten them talking about Norse and Celtic mythology. Angela started talking on and on about the Fae and it stuck with him. It drew him out of his reminiscing as she asked to touch it. If it were anyone else...
 
... James would have said no outright. But it was her. So instead, he simply reached the box out to her and nodded, locking his eyes with hers.
 
A wide smile played on Angela’s lips when she saw James give her a nod at her request. Flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder, she looked into his eyes and leaned toward him to give him a small kiss on the cheek. Yes, James was a good friend indeed and he was always so very good to her too.

Angela truly appreciated the friendship she had with James. Somehow, he understood her and had stuck by her since their earlier years in school. He’d always been there to pick her up when times were bad, he was there to share in the laughs that life sometimes dealt out. It amazed her at times how truly devoted he could be and it made her wonder why.

Shrugging off the silly thoughts that were starting to fill her head, Angela hesitantly reached out her hand to touch the beautiful dagger sitting in its box, tempting her, calling out to her. Swallowing, she let her delicate fingers wrap around the handle, gripping it tightly.

Suddenly, everything went dark for Angela. It was as if she’d lost her sense of sight only for it to return just in time for her to fall into what appeared to be a strange swirling abyss. The pull on her body was strong, making her stomach drop and feel queasy. Frantic, terrified, she screamed out only no one could hear her. James was nowhere to be seen, the museum was gone. She had no idea what had just happened. Had the dagger been laced with some sort of toxin? A poison? Why had she wanted to touch it? She’d forgotten. As she hurtled through the abyss, a stabbing pain shot through her head, her body feeling like it was suddenly being ripped apart. Again she screamed and again the darkness consumed her.

Almost certain she was going to die, Angela suddenly saw a bright white light approaching her. Terrified, the light got closer and closer and within moments she realized that she was falling from the sky. She could see the land below her and what looked like a group of people.

‘What the….’ Angela’s mind reeled, it hurt, her body hurt. She had no idea what was going on.

As Angela continued to plummet through the sky and toward the group of people on the ground, she noticed that she was still holding onto the dagger that James had let her touch. Afraid to let go for fear she could possibly land on the artifact and accidentally stab herself, she held it close to her body, hugging it to her chest. With wide eyes, she let out a blood-curdling scream as she finally struck and fell on top of one of the men she’d seen below her as she’d been falling.
 
Ulf Andersson, A Celtic warrior, had been told stories of the Fae his whole life. His bloodline was told to have been, and any relic of the Fae in another person's hands, he was told, should be met with a swift end. For both the relic and its owner.

So while it was a shock that this strange female landed in his lap, as soon as he saw the dagger in her hand, he knew what he must do. Ulf grabbed her by the hair and pushed her to the ground. Ulf drew his axe and placed his foot upon the strange girlschest...
 
"Accursed of the Fae, to restore honor to my family, to purge your taint from the world, i shall smite thee!" Rage, pure and hot, flashed in his eyes as he raised his axe above his head. However, as he saw the fear in her eyes, the large, muscular man stopped.

He didn't have the heart to kill a woman who had done nothing. But he didn't let her up. Instead, he lowered his weapon and spoke in a demanding voice. "Who are you? Where do you hail from, strange woman?"
 
Angela felt her blood run icy cold as she heard the large and very strange man she’d fallen on top of shout words of rage at her. The fear that consumed her in that moment when he’d placed his foot on her chest, holding her down, nearly made her pass out. She was so confused and had no idea as to what had just happened or where she was. Everyone looked so strange and she felt more than out of place.

Shaking with terror, Angela let out a scream as she saw the man suddenly wield an axe, holding it above her like an executioner. She instantly let her grip loosen on the dagger she’d been clutching so desperately, not caring what happened to it. One thing was clear, that… thing… was what did this. She had no idea how, but it had. Was this real or a delusion? She had no clue. All she knew was that it felt real and that was honestly enough.

Desperately trying to get up, but failing, Angela noticed that the strange man lowered his axe all of a sudden. Breathing rapidly, her heart racing a mile a minute, she suddenly found herself hoping like she never had before.

“Who are you? Where do you hail from, strange woman?” the man bellowed.

With a shaky breath, Angela answered. “I… I… I’m Angela. Angela Connelly,” she stammered, panic washing over her as she stared into the man’s angry eyes. “I fell from the sky.” Tears began to well in her blue eyes as she realized how ridiculous she sounded and based on the man’s earlier words, she feared that his superstitious reasoning would only use that against her. “But I don’t know how or why.” Suddenly, she choked on a sob, fearing that her next few words would be her end. “I’m from the United States and I think I’m far from home now…” she added, her voice trailing off into the quietest of whispers.
 
Ulf's deep green eyes grew from rage filled to almost shamed. Obviously, this woman had no idea what it was she was holding. Or she was very good at acting. The fear was extremely convincing.

Ulf put the axe back in the loop he had drawn it from, and slowly moved his foot away from her chest. "Where is this... United States? I've heard many stories of many lands. I've heard og Greenland, Iceland, Norway, and so many others. But never the United States." He spoke with a heavy accent, ...
 
which was strange, as he wasn't truely speaking English at all, but his native tongue. And to his ears, So was Angela. Although, Ulf was unaware of that, as was Angela. But, considering her position, the language being spoken was probably the last thing on her mind.

Ulf picked Angela up off the ground, and said "That dagger. It's a relic of the Fae. Something i was taught to destroy on site. Including whoever used it. I cannot, however, harm a woman who knows nothing of what she holds. So tell me..."
 
"... How you came across this relic. Tell me why you dress so strange. And most of all, tell me how you appeared at my home." Although Angela hadn't gotten a good look at anything, she had fallen into the past. Into the lap of a Celtic Warrior. One who owned a humble wooden home near the woods.
 
Shaking, Angela blinked her tear-filled eyes several times, trying her best to comprehend what was going on. Though try as she might, nothing was making any sense to her. It was as if she’d been hurtled back in time or thrust into some strange alternate dimension. Either scenario was absolutely ludicrous, however it felt so very real.

Taking in the strange man’s bellowing words, grateful that he’d said he couldn’t find it within himself to harm a female, Angela tried her best to answer. Though hearing him say that the dagger she’d been holding was a relic from what she thought were mere faerie-tales made her head spin and her stomach clench. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“I had no idea of its origins,” Angela began, her lower lip trembling as she spoke. “My friend found it in his museum. I just wanted to touch it. Just once…”

Pausing, Angela was sure she sounded absolutely outlandish, especially to such a man as this one. He seemed out of time somehow, but that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Strangely, she was actually starting to wonder. Swallowing, she looked deeply into the man’s eyes once more. He asked her why she dressed strangely, had divulged that he’d never heard of the United States. It was all just too much, so very bizarre. And what was more, it only confirmed her thoughts, thoughts that disturbed her greatly causing a rush of adrenaline to surge throughout her body.

“Umm… how can I tell you more about where I’m from if I don’t even know where I am now?” Angela then asked, hoping to get some answers, anything to help her make sense of what was occurring to her at that moment. She hoped the explanation would turn out to be a simple one.
 
Ulf looked at her and laughed. "You mean you've never heard of the Fae? Well you are definitely not from here." He stroked his braided beard as she talked, not really understanding what this 'museum' thing was. He assumed it was some sort of storage building.

When she asked him where she was, he merely smiled and said "You are in the Celtic lands. More specific, you are at my home." He gestured his head toward his simple thatch roofed home. "It's where I dwell, when war is not brewing."
 
Angela bit down on her lip. Of course she’d heard of the Fae. But that was just it. They were merely stories, legends, lore. They weren’t real, just a part of a culture that was rich in its history, playing a part in how it developed over time. Time. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like she was no longer in her own time. The very idea of that was absurd though. Then again, if this man said that the Fae were indeed real, who knew… it very well could indeed be possible.

Swallowing, still very frightened of the strange man looming over her, Angela spoke. “May I ask you your name? And…” her voice trailed, a definite hesitance could be heard. “Where exactly is your home?” she asked and she wasn’t referring to the thatched home he pointed out to her only moments ago. No. She meant what country.

Angela looked over the man again and again. He was handsome and she could easily tell that he was strong, a warrior of sorts. He’d mentioned war, so it was clear that he could hold his own in battles and had more than likely fought in several. He could easily tear her apart if he wished, but thankfully he was allowing her a moment to speak. She was grateful and hoped that her gratitude wouldn’t go unnoticed because the axe he still held firmly in his grip made her heart quake in fear. The fact that he could turn on her at any moment and strike her with the weapon unnerved her. She hoped he could see that she meant no harm, that she just wanted to go back home. Wherever or whenever that was now.
 
Ulf decided the small woman was no longer a threat, and put away his weapon. She was so unassuming and quite beautiful. Ulf decided to indulge the woman's curiosity, since she was obviously lost. "This is Ireland, girl." he said with a laugh. It was strange to encounter someone who knew so little about where she was.

Ulf's eyes wandered up and down the woman's body, having not actually gotten a good look at her before. The warrior found her form quite pleasing, and was glad he hadn't...
 
lopped her pretty head from her shoulders. "My name is Ulf Andersson. Warrior and defender of the Celtic lands." He turned from her and headed toward his home, his long hair flowing in the breeze. "Come. talk to me inside. Night will be coming soon, and it will be cold out here." He grabbed some large pieces of wood for a fire and opened the simple wooden door to his abode, holding it open for the lady.
 
Angela’s eyes went wide when she heard that she was in Ireland. Ireland? Swallowing, she looked at the strangely dressed man. He definitely looked like someone from another time, not just another place. And now that she knew she wasn’t in the United States anymore, she just couldn’t consider it outside the realm of possibility any longer. The man nearly murdered her with his axe, he spoke of the Fae as though they were real. It was all too much.

"My name is Ulf Andersson. Warrior and defender of the Celtic lands,” the man spoke, his eyes fixed on Angela’s for a moment before he turned toward his home. As she watched him begin to walk away, she tilted her head a little. The man was large, handsome and though quite odd, he seemed honorable enough. At least he’d spared her, her life. So far. “Come. Talk to me inside. Night will be coming soon and it will be cold out here.”

At that, Ulf began gathering pieces of wood as he made his way toward his house. Angela just stared after him in a complete and total daze. Just then, the wind blew causing her to shiver. He’d been right. The air was getting colder by the second as night began its approach. In the distance she could see a storm was also rolling its way inland. She’d no doubt that the storm would make it only colder.

Shivering, Angela stood up and followed Ulf to his home, hoping that she wasn’t making a mistake in going with him.
 
As Angela walked into his home, he followed her in and let the door come closed behind them. "I've no food to offer you. I did no hunting today. I wasn't expecting company." he said as he cleared away the ashes from the fire of the night before.

"Tell me, Angela, do you know of the fae? Do you know what they do and what they're capable of?" He set up wood and kindling, and some dried grass. Although he would not need the fire yet, he got it ready to light. "Now your clothes, the look very thin. How do..."
 
"... you survive the winter in the... United States? It does not grow cold there?" He stood back up and walked to her. "And how is it you look so frail? Do you not need to work?" Ulf had always been a curious person, even in childhood. Angela would have to feed his voracious curiosity. Such a strange woman. There would be so many questions all the time.
 
Angela shivered and wrapped her arms about herself so as to help stave off the chill. Even inside, the air was cold. It was becoming evident that it was the winter season in Ireland, whenever she was in time since she knew the times were far from modern.

“I’ve heard of the fae, but our stories are old and not very reliable,” Angela began, not sure of what else to say to Ulf. If he was truly from a different time, she worried if what she told him would skew history and thus her very own existence. “I think it best you tell me your stories about them.” She gave the large man a smile, hoping that he’d take the bait and tell her what he could about them.

Angela was starting to think that if the fae truly did exist, the stories she could get from Ulf would be more accurate. In her own time, they were mere stories, believed to be a fabrication of a superstitious people looking for ways to either explain things they didn’t understand or to frighten their children into obedience.

“My clothes are thin, but it isn’t yet winter where I’m from,” Angela answered. “I wasn’t prepared for the weather.” She felt her cheeks redden at the admission since she felt silly at the notion of having traveled through time and space to where she was now. Eyes averted, she bit down on her lip. “I’m sorry…”
 
(Sorry for the approaching half assedness, i still don't know much about the Fae)

Ulf nodded solemnly and told her stories of the Fae, the old stories of the curse on his family, and told her what the curse on the dagger meant, and that the curse written on it was the same as the curse upon his family.

"Not winter there? hmmmm.... well, i have some things you can wear for now. They'll be huge on you, but they'll be warm." He rummaged through his rucksack, and drew out the smallest clothes he had...
 
which was still much larger than her frame. He handed her the shirt, and decided against the pants. They'd never fit. "To my knowledge, the only way to break the curse is to kill bearers of artifacts, as well as destroy the artifacts themselves." Ulf sat on his bed, trying to comprehend everything she'd told him. "If you hadn't fallen out of the sky, I'd never believe you."
 
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