Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,59
to do?”
“Same. Anything in the forest is good with me. But we don’t really get to pick our skills in my Hollow. Everyone does something different each month. For those that become really spectacular at something, like making medicinal ointments like your mother, the elders will decide if that’s all you’ll do from then on out. Otherwise, you just stay in the rotation like the rest of us, working on everything.”
“Well that’s cool. Sort of. I guess the only bad thing would be if the elders decide you should do something you’re not in love with, no matter how good you may be at it.”
“Well, you can ask. The elders do respect our wishes. Some pixies flat out ask if they can do a certain type of work. Sometimes the elders say yes, sometimes no. But if it’s something you really want, you should go for it.”
“I like your Hollow. You guys get to experience everything to figure out what you like. Here, you’re just expected to choose a field and be good at it. It sucks.”
My shoulders and neck are beginning to burn, even with me constantly trying to stretch the muscles out. But I will say that the lemon water infused with honey is therapeutic, and soothes my aches a bit with each inhalation. Aroma therapy at its best.
“Ahhh….”
Chuckling, Jack asks, “Your neck hurting yet?”
“Yes. But it’s just nice to smell something for once, you know? It takes something sharp like lemons to pierce my senses. Most of what I eat is completely tasteless. Although I think it’s been getting a little better lately. Maybe it’s a malnourishment thing. Maybe once my body gets back in order, I’ll be able to smell and taste the subtle flavors again.”
“I wish you were a faerie, Rosalie,” Jack says out of nowhere.
He says it with kindness, but my neck locks with apprehension anyway. “Is there something wrong with my being a pixie?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just…you would have been fun to hang out with…outside this place. Especially since you seem to like hanging out in nature, outside of your society. None of the females here know how to build a tree house, and most would probably find hanging out in one pretty revolting, too used to the glitz and glamour of the city.”
He had gotten a kick out of it when I told him about my tree house. “Can’t say it’s structurally sound ‘cause it sways a little when it’s really windy, but yeah, I built it myself. I’m sure you’d laugh if you saw it in all its rickety glory.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Jack’s fingers suddenly begin massaging my neck. I didn’t even hear him approach. At first, I’m completely wound tight by his touch, but once the kneading relieves the ache in my muscles, the tension resides. There’s something satisfying about his touch, and I’m not sure what that means. I like the way his fingers move rhythmically across my skin, tickling me from the inside-out, even way down in my tummy. And I like that it’s his fingers doing this to me.
But that’s crazy! He’s a faerie. I’m a pixie. Our species don’t intermingle anymore. Even if I can get the hell out of here, we can never even be friends. So I sort of wish we could be the same species too. Because he’s right. If we had been born the same, I think we could have been really good friends, just hanging out in the forest having fun.
I’m left to ponder that sad realization quietly, but enjoy every second Jack’s willing to massage and ease my discomfort. I laugh internally, and I’m glad the smile spreading across my face is hidden. Maybe laying across his lap wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all…
Eventually his hands move to my hair, rubbing my oily roots in a circular motion. He detangles my long strands by stroking his fingers through it repeatedly. After what I’m sure is at least half an hour, he says, “I think that’ll do it. At least as clean as it’s going to get with this wash.”
My body twists so I’m sitting on my bum, and my head rotates so my hair trails along my back, water flowing down my body in several streams. I moan, the stiff pain in my back, shoulders and neck really hitting me now that I’m moving. Jack squeezes the excess water from my hair and fingers through it, separating most of the tangles. I never felt my scalp