Night Watch I: Eliza, Ward of Andrew

*Eliza’s POV*

I turned away from Andrew as he went outside, and for just a second, let myself sink into a world of make-believe. A magic world, where the kind, beautiful man I had found was not only into women, but into me, a filthy, damaged hybrid. I remembered him rubbing the sponge between my legs and buttocks, massaging the balm into the skin of my thighs, stomach, and chest. But more than anything, I treasured the memory of Andrew asking me to let him help. I had gone my entire life starving for that sort of kindness, attentiveness, and care.

Just then, I heard the sound of Andrew howling like a maniac outside, interspersed with noises of what could be mistaken for a one-man assault on the Forest itself. Was I really that irritating to be around? Ugh, fucking figured.

With that, the dream faded fast; it was too far-fetched. The way Andrew had tensed with politely disguised revulsion whenever he came into contact with my naked body was undeniable. I sighed and tried to bury the foofy, lustful thoughts, at least for the time being. Hopefully the opportunity to get myself off in relative privacy would present itself sooner rather than later. Maybe after that, I’d be less reactive around him.

I looked at the clothes Andrew had presented to me so proudly, amused. While they would literally cover me, I’d better not fall over. Poor Andrew was such a sweetheart; he was trying. More than anyone aside from family ever had, really. While I missed the few casual friends I had on my old Night Watch, I’d never had anyone tend to me, trouble themselves so greatly over me, not like that. Andrew hadn’t asked for anything in return. The thought cheered me.

I didn’t hear Andrew pitching a tantrum anymore; I figured he was out of earshot. I started singing quietly to myself as I put the kilt on. Andrew might prefer men, but I could dream, I supposed, so long as I kept it to myself.

I fastened the brown cloth into a manner of wrapped-front crop top around my cumbersome breasts, tying it tightly behind my back. The durable, gray vest fit quite well, actually, making me look less like a harlot. The black kilt barely covered my knees, and the thin, brown fabric over my chest let both my nipples and their jewelry show clearly through. I hoped that I would make some wages soon, and be able to buy myself some more practical clothing. The Wild Ones, if the rest of them were anything at all like Andrew, were not wild at all, but incredibly prudish. I imagined they’d be scandalized by occasional glimpses of me nipping-out. Perhaps it was just Andrew, but that would remain to be seen.

It occurred to me that Andrew had been gone for an awfully long time, considering he was just cutting a stick in two. I stopped singing and peered out the window slat. I saw Andrew, a ways from the door, on his knees on the ground. He was kneeling quietly in the waning light, motes of sunlight catching in his hair and on his wings, folded in a bit of a crumpled mess.

Looking at the way Andrew’s broad, proud shoulders were a little slumped, and his head hung forward, I didn’t need to ask. Something had reminded him of the loss of his lover. His velvety, dark brown forewings had a fair number of tears around the edges and areas missing their powder. A tortured sort of painful defeat and frustration radiated off of him. The effect was sort of a dark, haunted beauty.

As Andrew rose to stand, I saw him stretch his wings out completely, in the fading sun, for the first time. I knew I should have turned away, I was afraid that Andrew would catch me staring at him. But I couldn’t help but note how striking his deep yellow, striped hindwings were, they had been mostly covered indoors. I watched him turn towards the house, his wings still fully opened, now that he was outside.The undersides of both forewings and hindwings were the same rich, mustard yellow, just as I suspected they would be.

Incredible! I hadn’t looked very closely before, during the walk from the Council chambers, I had been more focused on the basics, like whether or not Andrew was going to kill me quickly, or if he was going to try something stupid. But, unless I was mistaken, Andrew had the wings of a Death’s Head Hawk Moth!

All Fae had some traits or tendencies that their spirit animals gave them. I had never seen Acherontia wings before, and antlers were very, very rare. Andrew was a very unusual man, indeed. I chuckled. Though I doubted Andrew had anything other than Fae in his bloodline, (it was very rare I met any other hybrids, and even less common one that was willing to discuss the matter openly), perhaps I was not alone in being a bit… extraordinary. I was incredibly curious how well he was able to use the sword he had, though I would, of course, rather he had no occasion to use it.

I watched for a moment longer as Andrew bent to retrieve the splint. The tilted rays of sun hit his sharp cheekbones and strong jawline. He was so handsome, with his brooding brow over his troubled, piercing, blue eyes, and his deep, sensual voice. I knew that I certainly couldn’t help him with the kind of pain he was in, but I hoped he would find peace somehow. Andrew seemed like a good man.

Notes

hahahaha! easter eggs for anyone who knows what to look for. ;)



the middle finger- it's aching to pop up, you can practically see it twitching.
again:

*chuckles*