Finally // beautiful stranger

---

“Hello, little Mer.”

That voice, velvet soft and full of mischief, sends a shiver down her spine. All thoughts of masked cultists and infernal sigils are wiped from her mind. All she can think- no, all she can feel is a desire to run towards the Satyr she suddenly sees standing before her, and throw herself into his arms.

“Kruxeral,” she breathes, her heart aflutter. “What-... what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course!” he says, and does a courtly bow. Sheryl blushes and starts walking towards him, deliberately taking her time to hide her eagerness. “I must ask though, how can you stand it here?” He gestures to the buildings around them. Some are well kept, but all are wet from the rainfall earlier that day, their faces sad and dreary. “It’s so mundane. So dull.” He gives her a look.

Sheryl stops a few steps away and tilts her nose up. “It is called the Material Plane for a reason, Kruxeral. Nowhere else in all of the realms is as beautiful as the Summer Lands,” she says, the Sylvan making her speak in truths.

“True!” he exclaims and claps, almost as if he was proven right. Sheryl raises an eyebrow at him and he laughs. “Oh, how I have missed you.” He closes the distance between them, his cloven feet tapping out a playful rhythm on the stones and Sheryl can’t help but smile, her heart’s wings fluttering against the cage of her ribs.

“I have missed you too, Krux,” she says softly looking into his eyes, hand coming up to lightly touch the arms that reached out to her. His hand catches hers and he weaves their fingers together. She feels the air stirring around them softly, a song forming in her head. This always happened when it was just the two of them. Music came so naturally with Krux, like breathing. How he managed to do that to her, she didn’t know.

Kruxeral brushes her hair back, tucking it behind her shoulder, coming in close. She closes her eyes and smells the green forests on his skin and her heart aches for the place she knows where those trees live. As he brings his hand back he tilts her head up. She opens her eyes, expectant, but his verdant gaze draws hers up to the night sky as he gestures to the moon.

“One more,” he says softly in her ear. “One more cycle of the moon and then you shall return. And then we will celebrate. Oh, Merla, what celebrations we shall have!”

Sheryl was half listening to Kruxeral as he continued on. So soon. A year and a day had seemed like such a long time before. But now... What about the Vanguard and the Harmonious Order? What about my friends?

“You will play and tell tales of all your adventures and She… will be delighted to have you back,” Kruxeral proclaimed. He lifts up their hands and spins her around, her thoughts tumbling out of her head in a whirl. Sheryl let out a giggle and it sounds like music. Kruxeral tapped out a beat with his cloven feet as he and Sheryl danced on deserted path in the moonlight.

After another spin Sheryl let go of Kruxeral’s hand, attempting to catch her breath. “I am actually due to perform later this evening! Would you stay and listen to my song, Krux?” Sheryl looks up at him and lets the moonlight reflect in her eyes, enchantingly.

“To return to the beauty of the Summer Lands but be deprived of hearing your music for yet another month? Or, to stay and listen to your enchanting song, but be stuck in this mundane place that is a sore on my very hoof?” His brow furrows and his eyes brighten as he considers his options, taking his time in jest or serious thought it was hard to tell. Sheryl, for her part, tries not to show how eager she is for him to stay. She settles on a sly but playful grin.

The corners of Krux’s mouth twitch upwards and he extends his hand forth, inclining his horned head. “I shall stay the eve and accompany you to your performance, if you will have me.”

Sheryl’s smile is sunlight and warmth as she takes the offered hand and says, “I would love to have you, Krux, for tonight.”

---

Sheryl waves a hand at the audience as they applaud. The air is buzzing and she stands in the stage lights, glowing with a radiance Kruxeral has not seen before. He was right, her songs are enchanting and he finds himself both proud and admiring the choices she makes with each one she plays that evening so far.

For his part, the satyr is perched by the bar. Cloaked in an illusion of a mundane human man with soft brown hair, trimmed beard, and fancy shoes, he lifts a glass of feywine up in salute to Sheryl as her eyes find his again. Satyrs, as she explained, are common to see in the Gilded Mirror, but not at the Fair Winds. Kruxeral agreed that a disguise would be best as he didn’t want to draw attention away from her performance.

He scans the audience watching her and notices one table with a group of women whispering furiously back and forth between each other. He studies them for a moment but Sheryl is speaking and he finds he doesn’t care if they are a bunch of hags hatching an evil plan or just a cluster of hens clucking away some town gossip.

“This next song is new, one I composed tonight in fact,” Sheryl says, a light blush touching her cheeks. Kruxeral leans forward, intrigued. She feels his eyes studying her, making the butterflies in her stomach try to take flight up her throat but she breathes them down. “Sometimes love doesn’t hit you all at once. Sometimes, it’s a slow fall.”

She starts strumming on her harp, the sound reverberating through the room. A few patrons start tapping their feet to the rhythm whilst others bob their heads to the lilting beat.

        Your eyes, so crystal green
        Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet
        You got a smile like arrows and dancing feet
        And I wonder if you'd like to meet

        Your voice is velvet through a sending stone
        You can come to mine
        But both my roommates are home
        Think I know a bar
        Where they would leave us alone
        And I wonder if you'd take it slow

Kruxeral can see the magic building around Sheryl, natural as breathing. The way her features become more like Titania’s as she sings. Her skin is glowing with a golden light and her voice pierces into the hearts of all those watching her.

Then her eyes find him again and he’s the one enchanted as he realises she is singing to him, for him, and him alone. Everyone else in the room just happened to be there, mere spectres. Sheryl sings to him,

        Oh, we're dancing in the evening gloom
        And up come my fists
        And I say, "I'm only playing"
        But the truth is this
        That I've never seen a mouth
        That I would kill to kiss
        And I'm terrified, but I can't resist
        And I say

        Beautiful stranger
        Here you are in my arms and I know
        That beautiful strangers
        Only come along to do me wrong
        And I hope, beautiful stranger
        Here you are in my arms
        But I think it's finally
        Finally, finally, finally, finally safe
        For me to fall

Every patron in the place is jamming, getting into the groove of Sheryl’s music. She is smiling, blushing, singing from the deepest parts of her and it’s all for Kruxeral. Was it reckless? Perhaps. Was she going to stop? No. This was the song she heard earlier. It was calling for her to sing it.

        Oh-oh-oh
        Oh-oh-oh

There was one table – the one with the group of three women – who were not getting into the music. All of them sit at their table, ramrod straight and uncomfortable, frowns cutting deep lines on their elegant faces. One of them nudged the other, a goading gesture. It caught Kruxeral’s attention, pulling his gaze away from Sheryl and he saw one of them push their chair back, preparing to do something.

Sheryl, not noticing, continued to sing,

        I take your hand and we fly so far
        Singing in the night under the evening stars
        Stuck between–

There’s a loud clatter as the table is jostled and silverware falls to the floor. One of the women stands and her voice, strong and shrill, cuts through Sheryl’s song. “What sort of creature are you? Sing about love, casting spells on us all?!” Sheryl has stopped playing. The woman gestures to the fey bard and looks at the other patrons. “This is obscene!”

Sheryl lowers her harp, brows knitting together in concern at what the woman says.

“Madam,” she says cautiously and as friendly as she can, though part of her is irritated at being interrupted mid song. “I do apologise if my music has offended you. I only sing what I-”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t aware of what you’re doing here! You little- ah!” The woman yelps in alarm as the wine glass in her hand tips towards her and spills down her elegant front. “My dress!” She grabs a cloth and starts dabbing at her wine stained bosom frantically. “My beautiful dress!”

“Look ’a what you deed, you leetle pixie!” trills one of the other women from the same table. “Agatha, let me- Oh!!” She started moving towards her friend to help when she suddenly tripped on air and went sprawling forward across their table, sending more crystal glasses flying to shatter on the floor and causing her own dress to get spattered with bits of food in the process.

The third woman stands at this point too, hands covering her mouth. Her shoulders are shaking and her friends glare at her. “Well, Chrissie are you going to help us or not!?” the first woman demands. Chrissie’s shoulder’s shake more and raucous laughter bursts forth as she looks at her friends. She clutches her sides and doubles over, laughter increasing at the incredulous looks on her companions faces.

Sheryl looks at the chaos unfolding in front of her confused for a moment. Then she looks back to the bar where Kruxeral was and doesn’t see him anywhere. The other patrons are staring at the three women in confusion, some in anger at their interrupted evening.

“Time for us to depart, little Mer,” Kruxeral whispers to her, grabbing her hand. As he does she turns invisible along with him and he’s pulling her away from the stage and the manager who’s come in to try and calm the situation.

Kruxeral pulls her after him, weaving through the patrons until they are out of the lounge and at the base of the stairs leading to the upper floors. She was still stunned at what the woman had said, what she had accused her of. But then she thought of the way her face had looked when the wine had split across her dress, the pure indignation! It was too funny!

Sheryl lets out a little giggle then claps her hand over her mouth. An old couple making their way down the hall start at the disembodied laughter, and Kruxeral gives her hand a squeeze. Taking the lead, Sheryl moves ahead of him and leads the rest of the way to her room.

The moment she closes the door behind them, Sheryl lets the laughter bubble up and out, flopping down onto a chaise lounge.

“Ahahaha! Did you see her face?! How ridiculous, haha!” Sheryl says as Kruxeral sits down beside her. Sheryl says as Kruxeral sits down beside her. She looks up at him, realising his face is his own once more, horned features and verdant green eyes. She sighs. “You did not have to do that, though I appreciate it all the same.”

He gives her a sly smile. “She had already made herself the fool. I just made everyone else see it.”

Sheryl shakes her head and sits up. “I’m going to have to explain to the manager what happened. He will not be pleased.” She bites her lip in worry absentmindedly. “I’ll have to cover the damages.”

Kruxeral reaches out a hand turns her face towards his. “Her first mistake was interrupting your song,” he says as he takes her hands, feeling the callouses on the ends of her fingers. “Her second was thinking there would be no consequences.”

“And mine was letting the music carry me away like it did,” Sheryl says, abashedly.

Kruxeral studies her for a moment. “Never apologise for the music you play, Merla. Each song you sing, each note you play is a gift this mundane realm can’t even begin to understand.” His fingers trace swirling lines up her forearms and her skin prickles in excitement. “Your place, whether you know it or not, is with us, in the Lands of Eternal Summer. There, your music will always be loved, just as you are loved and missed by those you've left behind.”

Sheryl closes her eyes, wishing he hadn’t said those words. She pulls her hands away and stands up, moving towards the window. The moon in all her fullness, shines down on her.

“You said it yourself, I have one more moon before I must return. I will have my time here, Kruxeral, and you cannot convince me otherwise,” she says. She looks up to the moon, unable to look at him as she says the next words. “You may know my True Name, but that does not mean you can control my heart.”

There’s silence in the room, the timepiece on the mantle of the fireplace echoing with each second that ticks by. She feels him stand and come up behind her, stop and then back away.

“I would never dare to dream of controlling you, Merla,” he says softly.

Sheryl slowly turns around to look at him.

His face, normally all mischief and wickedness, is uncharacteristically raw and open. It takes her by surprise. A small part of her wonders if this is some sort of trick. But her heart, oh, her heart says to believe. Wants to believe.

And so she does.

Sheryl steps up to him, looking into his eyes, only a breath between them. She can see her moonlight silhouette reflected in his eyes. “I meant what I said earlier.” He quirks an eyebrow in silent question and she smiles mischievously. “I would love to have you, Krux, for tonight.”

His expression changes and Kruxeral closes the distance, wrapping his arms around her. Sheryl hears that music again as she stands on tiptoe, the crescendo building up into a release as their lips meet in a moonlit kiss.


Continued in ‘A Harmonious Meeting’ 🦋