Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,57
“That poor faerie.”
“Poor is something she’s not. In fact, that’s why we got into trouble. She’s the daughter of one of our elders.”
“Brilliant, Jack. Brilliant,” I chastise. “So if you’re here with me, what’s Bastian’s punishment?”
“He got manure duty for three months. He has to go out into the forest and collect a certain amount of feces each day to make the fertilizer with.”
My nose crinkles. “Ooh. Yuck.” Typically the male pixies in our Hollow dealt with that, but there were times I flew through the nearby meadow and caught a whiff. “I suppose pixie-sitting me is better than that?”
Jack chuckles. “Yeah. I was mad at first, but when I heard what Bastian got, I got over it.”
“So what about you, Jack?” I ask suggestively, crossing my arms and eying him playfully. “Got any faeries in mind for courting?”
“Courting!” he bellows, practically spitting across the hole. “Are you crazy? There are very few I’d even consider dating at this point.”
“Down boy,” I ease, holding my hands up in surrender. I certainly don’t want him bursting that blood vessel currently pulsating on his forehead. “Got it. You’re not ready to court. But what exactly is dating?”
“What’s dating?” he asks incredulously. “Seriously? Don’t you pixies date?”
“Maybe. What is it?”
“It comes before courting. You go out with a few different faeries, or in your case pixies, before deciding which one you want to court. You know, try them on for size and see if you’re right for each other. Don’t you pixies do that?”
I shake my head. “No. We just court.”
“Dear, Mother Nature. Can you break off the courtship if one of you wants out?”
“Huh. I don’t know. I’ve never noticed it happening before, but I suppose someone would have at some point.”
“So…were you…uh…being courted back home?”
My lips curl in one direction, laughing internally over his awkwardness. “No. Guess I haven’t found a pixie that gets my wings fluttering either.”
There’s a quiet hmm coming off his throat, then we sit in silence for a few minutes. I don’t mind the silence really. Just his presence is comforting. It keeps me from going all crazy down here. But the longer I sit in silence, the more I realize my intestines are still mad at me. The internal twisting is painful. My knees shoot upward and I keel over to bury my face in my legs, gently rocking.
Metal scrapes across the rock, nearing my body, and I know it’s that dreadful bucket Jack brought me. As I twist my head sideways to glare up at him, he says, “Let me know when you’re done with that.” At least he’s not mocking me, or flashing me any type of embarrassing facial expressions. But the humiliation of my predicament overwhelms my emotions. I cringe and bury my head once more, digging my hands roughly through my oil-soaked hair. I can’t believe this is really happening to me.
“Try not to think about it,” he says softly. I hear him brush the dirt off his pants. “Trust me. I’m not going to take the time to study it before I dump it.”
I raise my right hand and give him a thumbs up, but refuse to look at him as he departs. On the comforting side, he kindly refrains from laughing at my expense. Can’t say the male pixies in my Hollow could have done that.
Jack descends within a warm, luminous light. I like seeing him this way. Something about the flame’s glow against his skin is alluring, easy on the eyes. He flutters his wings as he lands and sets the lantern down. How I wish I can have that lantern during the night. No one ever comes by, at least not to my awareness. I just hate being alone down here, and that light could offer a little comfort during those cold, dark hours.
“Good morning, Rosalie.” He points to the bucket off to the side. “Are you done with that?”
I nod my head, averting my eyes from his gaze, the shame overwhelming. It wasn’t easy going in that bucket, or comfortable by any means, but I suppose it’ll be even more humiliating if Jack saw it on the floor.
“Good,” he says, moving to pick it up by the handle. “Because we need it for something else today.”
He’s already flying up before I get off, “For what?”
“You’ll see,” he teases, disappearing from sight. I can’t say I’d be excited over anything having to do with the very bucket I’m forced to defecate in. He returns a few minutes later,