Grey and Gold

     The noise had wound its way into her dreams—she’d dreamed she was stumbling through an endless dark forest, seeking the source of the sound—and even as she rolled over, sleep-muddled, she wasn’t sure she was fully awake.

     But the noise continued, and as Baelia sat up, she realised the noise was coming from the bedroll next to hers. Luxinia was crying.

     No one else seemed to have been awakened by the sound—Juni was snoring softly, Tavi was snoring less-softly, and Nyx was curled up tightly in her bedroll, perfectly still except for the occasional twitch of her ears. Everyone was doubtless exhausted from the day they’d just had—getting sent off by Queen Fyora herself on a mission Baelia still didn’t entirely understand, discovering that Nyx’s own brother was the one putting the Grey Curse over Neopia, seeing Neopia Central succumb to the curse…

     ...not being able to do anything about any of it.

     Of course I was as useless as always, Baelia thought.

     Baelia looked over at Luxinia and hesitated. Baelia didn’t necessarily like to have others see her cry—though that often didn’t stop her tears from coming, like they had earlier—and the thought on intruding on the pain of someone she’d only just met felt about as appealing as jumping back into the grey flood the Painter had summoned.

     But Baelia had let her own pain come flowing out earlier today, and Luxinia had been kind to Baelia (everyone was so kind to Baelia; it felt like she was racking up a debt she could never repay); surely Baelia should try to return the favor now.

     So, cautiously, Baelia reached over and touched Luxinia’s shoulder.

     Luxinia whimpered softly, shifted a bit, then let out another shuddering sob.

     She’s crying in her sleep, Baelia realised—something Baelia had done herself, more than once. After another moment’s hesitation, she gently shook Luxinia’s shoulder.

     With a gasp, Luxinia sat up. “Wh-what? Where—?”

     A ball of golden light blazed in Luxinia’s hand; Baelia squinted, turning away, and she heard the rustling of someone’s bedroll, and a hitch in Tavi’s snores. “Careful,” Baelia whispered, holding up a hand to try to keep the light from shining on the others. “Not so bright.”

     The light dimmed. Baelia looked back at Luxinia. Luxinia’s spell, though dimmer, was still enough to let Baelia see the tear-trails on Luxinia’s cheeks.

     Luxinia scrubbed at her face with the hand that wasn’t holding the ball of light. “What is it? What’s happening?” she whispered.

     “You were crying in your sleep,” Baelia replied. “I thought I should wake you.”

     Luxinia sniffled. “Oh. Thank you. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

     “It’s fine,” said Baelia. “Um. Do you… want to talk about it?”

     Luxinia was silent for a moment, looking down at her little glowing ball of magic.

     “Maybe,” she whispered. “But… maybe not next to everyone else.”

     Oh. That made sense. No reason to wake anyone else up, after all.

     The two of them walked a little way out into the trees; Luxinia’s light spell grew brighter the farther they went, sharpening the shadows of the trees.

     Finally, Luxinia stopped walking. “This is probably far enough,” she said. After a moment, she added “You… you know that I can sometimes see other people’s memories, and sense their emotions.”

     Baelia’s stomach clenched.

     “Yes,” she replied.

     “I try not to use it on people without their permission, but when I pulled you out of the grey…” Luxinia said. “When I touched you, some of your memories and emotions sort of... slipped in.”

     Baelia swallowed. “What did you dream about?”

     Luxinia closed her eyes for a moment. “I dreamed I was in a cage. Wingless. Helpless. Afraid. There was a dark faerie standing in front of the cage, looking down at me, and she was saying such awful things...”

     “Jennumara,” Baelia breathed.

     “Was that her name?” asked Luxinia.

     Baelia nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed again. “She’s the one who… you know. My wings. She put me in a cage, after. I don’t know why. I don’t…”

     She shivered.

     Luxinia placed a hand on her arm, and suddenly, Baelia was enveloped by a soft, pleasant warmth.

     Light magic. A basic warming spell. Most light faeries learned how to do that when they were still young.

     Even Baelia had once been able to manage it.

     “I’m sorry,” said Luxinia. “I know that’s something you probably don’t like to talk about.”

     “I did ask,” Baelia replied. “It’s… it’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

     She still had nightmares about that cage. Sometimes, in those nightmares, Tavi was in the cage with her.

     That was what Baelia feared, more than anything—that Jennumara might seek revenge against Tavi.

     But as far as anyone could tell, Jennumara hadn’t made any attempt to go after Baelia or Tavi after Baelia’s escape. Queen Fyora had made sure the two of them had magical protections, just in case, but so far those protections hadn’t been needed.

     But here, now, in the middle of the night in the Haunted Woods, it was hard not to have old fears resurface.

     “Are you all right?” Luxinia asked.

     “Yes,” said Baelia. “I’m fine.”

     She was the one crying, and yet she’s the one trying to comfort me, Baelia thought with a fresh pang of self-loathing.

     Weak. Useless. Pathetic. Always…

     “I’m all right, really,” said Baelia. “I mean, I’m not the one who was crying in her sleep.”

     “I guess you’re right,” said Luxinia, letting her hand drop from Baelia’s arm—though the warming spell remained. “I can’t remember ever sleep-crying before. Though I’m still missing most of my memories, so I can’t say for sure I’ve never done it.”

     After a few moments, Baelia said “That must be hard.”

     “Sometimes,” said Luxinia, glancing out into the trees. “I’m lucky to have friends who could remind me of some of my past.” She looked back down at her light spell. “It feels ironic—I can see other people’s memories, but most of mine are gone, maybe for good.”

     “I wish I could forget, sometimes,” said Baelia. If she could just forget the cage, forget what it was like to have wings, forget that sense of wrongness that had followed her throughout her life… would she be happier?

     “I can see how you’d feel that way,” said Luxinia. “I’ve never been through anything quite like what you did, but…” She sighed.

     The light spell flickered, pulsing softly, a little brighter, a little dimmer.

     “I didn’t grow up in Faerieland, apparently,” said Luxinia. “I grew up in Brightvale. My… well, something happened, and I moved to Faerieland to get a new start. That’s probably one reason no one found me for so long—in the chaos after Faerieland fell, people thought I’d gone back to Brightvale.”

     Baelia had wondered before if she would have benefited from a change of scenery, but… Faerieland was familiar, if sometimes painful. She’d thought of it often while she was in Jennumara’s cage—even if she’d often been unhappy in Faerieland, the cage was far, far worse.

     “I went back to visit Brightvale a little while ago,” said Luxinia. “Talked with some people who knew me when I was younger. Flipped through one of my mom’s friends’ photo albums. I didn’t recognise anyone in any of the pictures. Not friends. Not… not family. And I’d give anything to have those memories back. Even the bad ones. Even pain and grief… they were part of who I was, and someone took them from me.”

     “I’m sorry,” said Baelia, for lack of anything better to say.

     “We’re all kind of messed up, aren’t we?” Luxinia said. “You, me, Tavi, Nyx… well, I don’t know if Juni has any tragedy in his past, but even he has to deal with being flung twenty years into the future. Queen Fyora seems to think we can do something to help with this whole Void and Grey Curse thing, but I haven’t been much help yet.”

     “You saved me,” said Baelia.

     “I’m glad I was able to,” said Luxinia. “When I saw that wave hit you, I was so scared. I know we’ve only just met, but I still… I don’t want to lose you.”

     Baelia felt a strange tightness in her throat.

     The idea that people might actually care about her felt strange, sometimes. She knew that Tavi cared for her, of course, though sometimes Baelia worried she was more burden than friend. Baelia’s mother—well, of course Baelia’s mother would be sad if Baelia wasn’t around, though Baelia mostly tried to avoid her, these days; it hurt to see the way Baelia’s mother looked at her (my poor baby, she used to be so bright and beautiful…).

     But Luxinia…

     Luxinia was everything a light faerie was supposed to be; everything Baelia had never been. She was sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and eager to help—and up until now, she’d always seemed to try to look on the bright side of things. Of course she’d had plenty of friends who flocked to her side once she’d been freed from the crystal she’d been stuck in. Who wouldn’t adore someone like Luxinia?

     And what could a faerie like Luxinia possibly see in Baelia except for someone to pity?

     ...well, in fairness, Baelia really hadn’t known Luxinia for all that long—not even a full day, yet, though it felt like it had been far longer. But that was plenty of time to see how much better Luxinia was than Baelia had ever managed to be.

     “Baelia,” said Luxinia. “When the Grey Painter was casting that curse, sending out that wave of grey… why did you run toward it?”

     Baelia’s stomach clenched again, harder.

     “You ran straight at the grey wave, and you told us all to go—to leave you,” said Luxinia.

     Baelia took a deep breath. Then another.

     She searched for words, and found none she wanted to say.

     “When I picked you up,” said Luxinia. “I felt…” Her voice caught for a moment. “I felt so much hatred. Woven through every other emotion… so much hatred for yourself.”

     Baelia’s eyes stung. I won’t cry. Not again. Not again.

     “I stayed by your side, after,” said Luxinia. “I didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up.”

     “It’s not—I’m not—I—” Baelia stammered.

     She took yet another deep breath, tried to steady herself, and said “I just… Queen Fyora asked me to come. I don’t know why. It’s not like I have any real skills or knowledge that would help. It’s not like I’m the only grey faerie who’s ever existed, and the grey curse isn’t the same as being a grey faerie, anyways. I just thought—maybe the Queen knew there was some sort of—of magical resonance, or something. I can’t get any greyer than I already am, right? So maybe I could… soak up the curse. I don’t know. It all happened so fast—I wasn’t really thinking at all. I just saw something coming at Tavi, and I thought… maybe I could protect her. Maybe I could finally do something for her—save her, like she saved me.” She rubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes. “But I couldn’t. I just made everything worse. Like I always do.”

     “Don’t say that,” said Luxinia. “You don’t—Baelia, you’re here for a reason. I don’t know what that reason is, but I trust Queen Fyora. I wish she’d explain things more clearly, but… she’s the Queen. I trust she knows what she’s doing, and I don’t think she’d have asked for your help if she wasn’t certain you could actually help. You have a part to play in this, just like I do. And… and I’m glad you’re here.”

     “I don’t see why,” Baelia whispered.

     “Baelia…” said Luxinia.

     “No—I’m not—I’m not looking for you to pity me,” said Baelia. “I don’t want you to tell me that everything is going to be all right, or that I’m super-important, really—I know what I am! I’m useless—or as good as useless, anyways. I don’t have powers like you, I don’t have skills and knowledge like Tavi—it’s all I can do to wake up every morning and just keep going.”

     She squeezed her eyes shut. I’m not going to cry again!

     After a moment, she felt Luxinia’s hand on hers, and she resisted the urge to pull away.

     It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be touched at all—she just hated that everyone felt like they needed to comfort her.

     Except she kind of also wanted that comfort.

     It was just one more sign of how truly messed up she was, and she hated that, too.

     She swallowed, and opened her eyes again.

     “I admire that,” said Luxinia. “Really, I do. I’m not just trying to be nice. Even though you’re hurting, and afraid, and… and you can’t always see the good in yourself, you’re here. You could have said no to Queen Fyora—you could have stayed home.”

     “It’s hard to say no to the Queen,” said Baelia.

     “Well, yes,” said Luxinia. “But… you keep tearing yourself down. It almost seems like you don’t… like you don’t think you’re worth saving.”

     “I’m…” Baelia choked out. “I’ve never been…”

     “Tavi thought you were worth saving,” said Luxinia. “And so do I. Baelia... can I try something? I know I can sense the memories and emotions of others, but… can I try sending mine to you?”

     “I… okay,” said Baelia. How could she refuse?

     Luxinia took one of Baelia’s hands in both of her own; the ball of light she’d been holding floated up to hover between them. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” said Luxinia. “I’m not entirely sure it’ll work, but…”

     Baelia looked down at Luxinia’s hands, holding hers, and thought Should I close my eyes? Or… something?

     There was a pulse of warmth. Then…

     A different sort of warmth. A stream of feelings—not neatly-ordered words, but a flowing stream of emotion, feelings tumbling over each other in a tangle that Baelia tried to decipher.

     Want her to be okay, to not hurt so much, to be happy—want her to know I really do admire how strong she is and how she’s willing to give of herself (and she’s pretty) (her antennae are so cute!) (no wait stop that) (focus!) I need her to know that she’s worth protecting (I think I heard something in the shadows) (oh no what if something’s out there) (it’s so dark) (it’s too dark) (no no no think of something else) (but it’s so dark)

     Luxinia’s light spell suddenly flashed even brighter. Flinching from the sudden light, Baelia pulled her hand back, and the sudden surge of fear faded. Luxinia looked away, cheeks flushed, and the light faded to its previous brightness.

     “I’m—I’m sorry,” Luxinia stammered. “I was trying to—”

     “It’s okay,” said Baelia.

     Does she really think I’m pretty…?

     Carefully, Baelia placed a hand on Luxinia’s shoulder. “You seemed kind of scared of the dark earlier, too.”

     Luxinia gave a weak little chuckle. “Yeah. Kind of sad, isn’t it? I don’t know why, but… any time I’m somewhere dark, I just… I want to get away. Maybe something bad happened when I was really little, but if my memories of whatever happened are gone, you’d think the fear would be gone, too. I was trying to make you see that—that I like you, you know? That I like being around you, that I think you’re worth saving, and instead you got to see this stupid, childish fear I have.”

     “Everyone’s afraid of something,” said Baelia.

     “You have reason to be scared,” said Luxinia. “But I… I don’t know. Light faeries shouldn’t be afraid of the dark. I mean—I—” She cut herself off, flushing even harder.

     Baelia had never really been afraid of the dark, even when she’d been small. The dark, after all, didn’t hurt anyone.

     The same could not be said of dark faeries.

     Baelia took a deep breath. “That… actually kind of helps, though. I don’t need another person telling me I’m so brave, or so strong, or whatever—people keep saying that, and no one—okay, maybe you mean it, and maybe Tavi means it, but mostly it’s just words. It’s what people think they’re supposed to say to me. But… if you really think I’m strong, then maybe let me help you when you’re feeling weak. Or… something.”

     She trailed off, turning away. Stars above, she probably sounded so stupid…

     “Oh,” said Luxinia. “You’re… I’m sorry, Baelia.”

     “No—it’s fine,” said Baelia, waving it off.

     “No—I never meant to make you feel—” Luxinia started again.

     “Stop,” said Baelia. “Just… stop, okay? I don’t…” She sighed. “I don’t want to be the one everyone always thinks they have to comfort.”

     “It’s just… if I see someone sad, I want to make them feel better,” said Luxinia. “It’s kind of what you’re supposed to do.”

     “What light faeries are supposed to do.” The words fell from Baelia’s lips before she could stop herself.

     “...yes,” said Luxinia.

     The wind made the tree branches creak overhead, and Luxinia flinched. Baelia squeezed her shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

     After a moment, Luxinia said “I don’t know who I am, sometimes. I know a few things about who I used to be. I know I want to help people—to make them happy. I like building things, and I like making them beautiful. And I’m a light faerie. If I didn’t know anything else about who I was, at least I could be that. Even when I’ve forgotten so much else—even if I don’t know everything about the person I was before, I know what light faeries are supposed to be—nice, and bright, and optimistic. Always smiling, and always willing and able to help people with their problems.”

     Baelia had never felt like she’d managed to fit into that mold. Even before, there’d been… this weight, this sense that something inside her was different, broken, wrong. She saw all the other light faeries around her and felt like there was some ineffable something that they all had, but she was missing.

     “And if you’re not,” said Baelia, “then something’s wrong with you.”

     Luxinia gave a sad little laugh. “It feels that way, doesn’t it? Like… like you always have to play a certain role. And it doesn’t always feel bad. Sometimes it comes naturally. But sometimes… especially when I’m around other people, I feel like I always need to be the one who’s encouraging them—cheering them up, always helping everyone see the bright side of things. I don’t know how much is me—the me that was left after my memories disappeared—and how much is just… me trying to be what I’m supposed to be. What people want me to be. And… sometimes I kind of just want to scream.”

     The image of Luxinia—perfect, golden Luxinia—screaming her lungs out was so incongruous that it took Baelia a few moments to find a response.

     “Sometimes I kind of want to scream, too,” said Baelia. “I never really felt like I fit in with the other light faeries. I just… I never had that glow. It felt like there was always something inside me that just… couldn’t. It was almost…”

     She couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

     It was almost a relief when no one expected me to be a sweet shiny happy light faerie any longer.

     “I wish I’d known you back then, too,” said Luxinia. “Though maybe I wouldn’t have been any help. I don’t really know who I was back then—just what other people have told me, plus what I’ve been able to piece together from my old belongings.”

     “It feels like I’ve never really known who I am,” said Baelia. She’d never felt like she’d fit in, anywhere; the closest she’d come was after Tavi had freed her from Jennumara’s cage and, afterwards, had cheerfully befriended Baelia, becoming the best friend she’d ever had.

     Tavi always seemed so confident—so sure of herself, so secure in herself. It felt strange to think of the Kyrii having been so deeply hurt by the dissolution of her old friend group that she’d put herself in danger—a heartache so severe that she’d stopped caring about her own safety.

     In the darkest parts of the night, Baelia sometimes wondered if she herself had done just that—gotten herself hurt because she already felt too broken to care about keeping herself safe.

     “I guess we’re both still figuring ourselves out,” said Luxinia. “Maybe... we can help each other. I know we’re not dealing with the same thing, but…”

     “...but maybe we can help each other anyways,” said Baelia.

     “Yes,” said Luxinia. “I’d like that.”

     I’d like that, too, Baelia thought.

     “Okay,” said Baelia. “We can figure things out together. Including… all of this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the darkness, “though I still don’t see how I could be of any help with this whole Void and Grey Curse… everything.”

     “We’ll figure that out, too,” said Luxinia. Then she yawned, and added “...but probably not all tonight. I think I need to get back to sleep.”

     “Me too,” said Baelia. “I guess we should head back to camp.”

     Luxinia nodded, then glanced at the ball of light hovering between them—possibly thinking about how she’d need to dim it soon so she wouldn’t risk waking any of the others.

     Baelia reached out and gently took Luxinia’s hand. Luxinia turned back to her, giving her a small smile.

     “Yes,” said Luxinia. “Let’s go back.”

     Hand in hand, the two walked back to the campsite.

     The End.