** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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Zane sucked the air deeply into his lungs and forced himself to relax the tense muscles under the heavy cloak.
"Calm down," the dark voice admonished himself, peering furtively into the darkness. He had to proceed carefully and could not afford to make any mistakes. He opened and closed his hands several times to dispel the unpleasant tingling sensation.
Like a river inevitably flowing back into the sea, Zane emerged from the alley into one of the busier districts.
By now, the sun had entirely sunk behind the horizon and shrouded the city in a night-time veil, broken only by the occasional flickering lights of the street lamps. With the fading light, nightlife awoke and brought completely different figures to the surface.
Without him being able to prevent it, a new mixture of smells immediately reached his nose, and Zane's face contorted into a grimace of loathing.
"Disgusting," he grumbled quietly to himself. The earthy smell of graveyard soil washed through the streets like a tidal wave, mingling with the nuances of wet granite and stone, wet dog fur, heavy incense, dead flowers, and far too sweet perfume.
It was a nauseating mixture for his nose. The night conjured up everything he despised and had once fought against in blood.
"Stinking scum."
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against a wall next to one of the numerous side alleys. The Caith-Sith tilted his head slightly towards his chest, just enough to peek under the hem of his hood and watch the goings-on.
The children of the night, whether seeking pleasure or paying homage to the darkness, roamed the cobblestones in search of a new place to sleep. A fae with pale skin and black eyes covered with tattoos sat in the middle of a group of sinister fellows, a sidhe in revealing clothes sitting on his lap with her legs apart. It was a bizarre sight, as the strange fashion of the humans with their slouch hats and vests blended in with the style of the Otherworld. Fine, colorful silk, covered in morning dew and woven from spider silk, met the coarse wool of the humans.
Some might find this disgusting - but what else could they do? After all, the Vaesen were stranded here and faced new circumstances. What helped was the intoxication: a bottle passed from mouth to mouth, accompanied by filthy laughter. The green glass of the absinthe bottle shimmered in the dull light of a lantern but had a striking silver sheen. Fairy dust, huh? Nasty stuff. It was as addictive as fairy food and could quickly become your undoing. It was not for nothing that the drink was nicknamed "The Green Fairy."
