WM 75.3 - The Fallen Ones (RP with 1st_of_the200)

[faedefrance]

Your burning star turned to midnight sun
I will stay alive for the fallen ones
Dancing with the smoke of your devastated flame
Dancing with the smoke dancing with the rain
So cold being here again
So I call your name ~ I call ~ I call your name

The time had come at last for Jocelyn de Rochefort to leave the private school that her parents had been sending her to. Now she would follow her in her mother's footsteps. The High Lady and Queen of the Fortunate Island would very soon be cutting a doorway into the Mists and taking her youngest daughter there to begin what she would need to know as the heir to that Throne. Jocelyn had said her goodbyes, but made each of them sound as if she would only be gone for a little while. She had not quite told a lie, but she certainly did not replace any assumptions being made on the part of anyone else that she would still be a ready companion to her friends, and close at hand. The embraces shared were all too quick, but she did not mind. Jocelyn was not one that was too hungry for the touch of others - unless of course she was being petted by her Papa, her Maman, Amarante' or her Godfather, Hsu, or on the very odd occasion, getting an affectionate and very chaste embrace from her friend, Azazeal.

Those were the ones that she felt in the pit of her stomach like intense bouts of anxiety. And in all honesty, she couldn't quite explain them. Surely it wasn't because she ate something that disagreed with her right before she saw him! There must be an explanation. All she knew is that when she did see him, her heart would race as it never had before, and she sincerely missed the frequency of Azazeal's visits that she had once enjoyed as a child. There were no more tea parties and wanton destruction of Musketeer cookies and cakes now.

On the eve of her fifteenth birthday she stared into the mirror long after everyone else had gone to bed. The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow that was the kind of sensuality that she was starting to pay intense attention to. The pleated folds of her nightdress hung around her now in ways that they never did before as a child. Now her hips were rounder, her waist smaller and the the neckline, though far from being considered provocative for one so young, was plunging enough to show of the beginning bloom of breasts that now made themselves apparent. Jocelyn raised her chin and gave her reflection a smile. She was very appreciative she had inherited her Maman's beauty and her father's sharp sense of humour and penchant for calculation. Reaching behind her she drew the folds of her gown a little tighter, to accentuate the curves even more. At school she had buried these things under her school uniform but was rather surprised when some of the boys at her school were starting to look at her a bit differently. The uniform had stayed the same as it had always been over the last twenty odd years. It never occurred to Jocelyn until now in the candlelight that perhaps the boys were looking at her in such a way because it was what was inside the uniform that had changed after all. She found her thoughts wandering to Azazeal again and what he might actually think of all of the differences in her. Would he still be as glad to see her? She wasn't quite certain, but she did know that she wanted him, more than anyone else, to notice her. Azazeal had been quite appreciative of every spell that she showed him, every concept that she had learned magically that she discussed with him and indeed he gave her some interesting things to think about. These things, whether she liked it or not, would perplex her teachers and they would exasperatedly tell her that she really should not show off so much in class. Jocelyn, however, took it all in stride and went about her business. Was it her fault that the world was slow in catching up to what she knew to be true?

She listened to the rain pattering softly against the glass of her bedroom window and reached into her dresser drawer and pulled out the small box of cosmetics that she had managed to borrow from her mother's vast stores of them, or buy on her way to and from school over the last few weeks. Jocelyn knew if her father found out that she was putting on makeup now at her age, he would give her an angry glance and growl that she did not need them, and certainly not yet. Like any other adolescent girl, it was natural to defy her father - at least in the privacy of her own room. Glamour is something that comes quite easily to Fae children, especially the Unseelie. They have a charm that is in inborn that sucks in every bit of light around them, and these little beings learn how to radiate it back out to the world as if it were something that came entirely from within them. She had been watching her mother at her toilette for years and knew exactly how to do each thing as well as from Amarante and the other matrons of the Château de Rochefort of natural beauty secrets that had been passed from Human and Fae alike. To Jocelyn's mind, these were things were just as important as learning spells or holding glamour of one kind or another. She carefully began to line her eyes with one of the khol pencils that she had borrowed from her mother and carefully smudged the edges with a fingertip. Instantly this small bit of enahncement made her eyes stand out in the candlelight. She smiled, pleased with the reflection and was about to reach into the box for another cosmetic when she heard a familiar voice.

"Bon Nuit, Jocelyn," the voice, low and lilting said from somewhere in the darkness of her room.

She gasped and whirled around to see Azazeal sitting quite contentedly in the wing chair in the corner of her room. He had been watching her the entire time. She nearly squealed with delight at seeing her friend but then quickly clasped her hand over her mouth. "Azazeal! What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper, "how did you get through Maman's wards?"

Azazeal just offered her a smile and slowly rose from his chair to come over to her at the dressing table. He was tall, so very tall and now he was close...'and why the hell was her stomach doing that flip-flop thing again?' she wondered.




Muse: Jocelyn de Rochefort
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count:1096 (not counting lyrics)

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[1st-of-the200.livejournal.com]

As he came over to her, he took a drag of the cigarette he held between his slender, long fingers. There was just a touch from him, just above Jocelyn's hip, to encourage her to turn back to the mirror so that he could stand behind her. That look of delight at first seeing him had pleased him immensely as had the sight of her now blossoming into young womanhood. She was beautiful, just like her mother, and just as he knew she would be all those years ago when he first held her in her nursery.

At last Azazeal decided to answer her questions. "Your Maman knows that there's no need to use her wards against me." Oh, a demon could weave a truth as thin as a Fae when he chose, but there was no need to tell Jocelyn that he was more than adept at evading them, only brushing them when he wanted Faelyn to know he was around. "And I'm here." He smiled as he gazed at her reflection. "to see you, of course, before you leave."