sweetpeasprite

"Lord High Lord!"

Drippy groans a little as he wakes from his doze, his bones cracking as he stretches in his small hammock. He squints against the sun in his eyes, filtering through the leaves, and huffs as he hears frantic footsteps approaching through the clear morning air. It's a quiet, spring day in the Fairyground - the forest is teeming with new life in the early sun, flourishing around him in his little corner of Teeheeti. He had just been thinking about how peaceful he was, right then; so unlike the rest of his life. He supposes something had to go wrong.

He shuts his eyes again as the footsteps get closer, feigning sleep. "Lord High Lord!" the voice says again, panicked. Drippy recognises it as one of the younger fairies, one who happens to be as anxious as the wind, and his annoyance deepens.

"What is it, mun?" he grumbles.

"There's a dragon headed right to the Fairyground!"

That gets him to open his eyes, startled for a second before shaking the thought away as a fantasy, and closing them again. "It's not a dragon."

"Yes it is!" the fairy insists. "It's all big and scaly, en't it?"

"You've never even seen a dragon before," Drippy mutters. "S'probably just a weird bird." He rocks back and forth in his hammock, trying to doze back off. Weird birds come to the Fairyground occasionally - creatures that are more magic than flesh. They typically leave the place alone once they catch sight of the mountainous woman at the top of the town. “Leave it alone, and you’ll be just fine, alright?”

"W-well… but…" The fairy huffs in annoyance, and Drippy almost thinks he’s going to leave. Then, he mutters quietly, "Big flipping bird, if it is one."

Drippy sighs, squeezing his eyes tighter shut.. Even without looking, he can feel the fairy’s eyes on him, hovering there, waiting for him to do or say something else. He sits up, the hammock swaying beneath him, and looks down at him. "This en't dragon territory, mun - it's nowhere near it, in fact. Not that a dragon would even be able to find Teeheeti in the flipping first place." He had made sure of that centuries ago.

The fairy deflates. "It really doesn't look like a bird, though, does it?" he says quietly.

Drippy shakes his head, his lantern - corrosion creeping over it these days - jingling as he does so. "Alright, tell you what," he says. "I'll come look at it, and you stop bothering me. Deal?"

The fairy brightens as he hops down off the hammock, his back aching as he stands up and stretches. "It's coming in from the beach side," he says, and Drippy huffs in response.

Drippy's little hovel is slightly away from the main buzz of the Fairyground - it's closer to the Fairy Godmother, for peace and quiet in his old age, or so they told him. He used to never spend any time there, preferring to be in the middle of everything, but these days the volume of the Cavity Club is too much for his old ears, and he appreciates the space a lot more - so much so, he spends most of his days there napping in the sun. But as they slowly walk from there to the main body of the Fairyground, he realises there's not much noise even in the usually busy main street - there's no one calling out to him, no older friends to joke about him coming out of his hermit cave. A few fairies loiter about, yes, but not at nearly the same level as usual. Something's going on, even if it isn't a dragon. Drippy starts walking a little faster, and the fairy who called him stumbles to keep up.

They come to the entrance of the village to find fairies gathered, watching the sky. "What's going on here?" Drippy grumbles, and a few heads turn to glance at him briefly.

"Drippy-boy," says one of them, and he recognises him as one of his classmates from way back. He looks terrified. "There's a dragon."

"What?" Drippy hisses. "That can't be right."

"I know!" he hisses back. "But I'm telling you right now, there's a flipping dragon!"

Drippy looks up. And yes, there in the sky, he sees it - what does indeed look like a large, red and gold and silver, long-whiskered dragon. And he almost admits he was wrong, for a second; almost shouts at everyone to get back, as it comes ever closer, moving quick as lightning as it weaves through the air, almost runs to hide himself to hope it simply flies overhead. But then he catches the magic on the wind; the glowing sensation that he recognises, some of the strongest magic in existence: the kingswind. "That en't a dragon," he breathes, trying to make sense of it. If the kingswind ran through the Fairyground, surely he would know? Yet here he is, feeling it as it grows stronger around him, as the dragon-like creature comes closer. "That's a kingmaker."

"What?" the younger fairy says. "But-"

"I don't know," Drippy mutters. It isn't one he recognises, either, which terrifies him; for a new kingmaker to be made, who knows what horrors are going on outside their little bubble? There's a pang of guilt that he hasn't been out in the world to know what's going on, that this kingmaker may have had to come to them for what little help they can offer; or maybe it's malicious, and intends to destroy the Fairyground as a realmwrecker would. It gets closer, now, and Drippy watches it whip through the air - it looks like it's aiming for the beach.

"Right," he says. "You lot stay back. Go hide, in case it attacks." Not that it'll do much good against a kingmaker. "I'll go down there and greet it in case it's friendly."

"You'll do what?" The older fairy gapes at him. "Come on, mun, don't tell me you've gone daft in youer old age."

"A kingmaker wouldn't come here without reason, would it?" Drippy rationalises, half to himself.

"Even then, it could swallow you in one gulp!"

"But why would it, like?" he points out. "Not that kingmakers need to eat anything, anyway."

The older fairy huffs, shaking his head. "Youer funeral, I suppose. Glad to see you're back to youer old self, being all reckless like this. Righto, I'm not sticking around to watch, then - come on!" He calls the last part to the rest of the group. "Everyone back in town!"

There are a few grumbles, but all of them file back into the village, herding curious littlies away from the beach. Drippy watches them go. The younger fairy who went to fetch him keeps standing beside him, but he shoots him a look, and points back into the village - his shoulders droop, but he sulks his way back in without another word. The older fairy watches them all go in, then turns to Drippy. "Good luck," he mutters, as he trots back through the entrance himself. Drippy watches him go, then turns back, takes a deep breath, and starts making his way down to the beach.

He looks up as he walks, watching the kingmaker through gaps in the leaves of the forest as it starts to descend on Teeheeti. No luck of it flying overhead, then. He pushes through foliage, following the well-worn path to the beach and feeling sand under his feet as he comes out into the open. Drippy feels himself shaking, an old nervous thing, something he hasn't had to worry about in centuries - there hasn't been anything to be worried about in centuries, not since…

The kingmaker gets closer, and Drippy suddenly realises: it's different to a normal kingmaker. He's felt a kingmaker's magic before - they are ancient beings, and their magic reflects that, set in stone, never changing. This kingmaker's magic is fluid, it's new, it's - familiar.

It's familiar. Drippy can't place his finger on it, but part of it, at least, is familiar. It's magic he recognises from somewhere. He watches the kingmaker get closer as he racks his brains to try to figure it out, standing on the beach and waiting for it to hit the sand. He watches as it flies down, down, down, stretching out, and then - it starts to vanish into a burst of golden light, tail winding its way down as it disappears into it, and Drippy recognises it for what it is: a change of form.

What's left in the kingmaker's place is a small, yellow thing - shorter than Drippy, a little crater in the sand where it landed. Drippy peers over, and realises: it's a fairy. A yellow fairy in red clothing, kneeling in the sand with his head down - one that he recognises almost immediately.

"Lofty?"

—

Lofty was one of the first group of littlies born after Teeheeti was sealed.

Drippy remembers it, though at the time he wasn't exactly in his best state - evident by the fact that he was the one who demanded to seal Teeheeti. But he had celebrated the birth as they did every time, cheering for the pop of the volcano, and almost managing to take his mind off things for a while. Most of that group of littlies, while curious about the outside world at first while listening to Drippy's stories, had been much more interested by the comedy aspect of their little town - as most fairies are. Two of them had even gone on to become one of the most popular comedy duos of the millennium, mentored by none other than Smiley and Surly.

Lofty had been… different. He had stayed, listening to Drippy's stories, for many years longer than the others in his batch, and he had asked far more questions than any littlie before him. At first, Drippy had, in all honesty, appreciated the outlet - it had given him a chance to talk about Oliver when he was sure he never would again. But after a point…

"Why can't we go talk to humans?"

Drippy had been taken aback by the question, glancing down at the still-egg-shaped littlie in front of him, sitting in an area near the Cavity Club - the only littlie of his group left there. It was a complicated question - and one he maybe should've anticipated, but hadn't. The handful of fairies milling about shot them a glance, and Drippy could feel them holding their breath. The older fairies knew why Drippy didn't want them talking to humans. Lofty did not.

"Well," he had said, and then stopped short. He wasn't sure how to explain exactly why, not to a child as young as he had been. "You just can't," he decided on.

Lofty had frowned. "But I want to, don't I?"

A lump had stuck in Drippy's throat. It had been only so many years since it happened; he was not ready to have this conversation, and certainly not with a child. "Well, you can't," he had snapped, and left to find somewhere, ignoring the calls of his friends behind him, to quietly break down.

Lofty had been quiet for a few days following it, but after that he was right back to questions. Drippy had taken a deep breath, and answered when he had the strength to. “I want to visit Ding Dong Dell one day,” he had declared once, and Drippy hadn’t had the energy to tell him he couldn’t.

—

The fairies in the Fairyground stare.

It's just what they do. They're nosy, and they don't care if you know it - in fact, they would rather you know it, so maybe you'll tell them what's happening. Drippy leads Lofty - head bowed, looking terribly sorry for himself - through the village, and tries to silence the whispers with a glare when he can. He's not even sure if Lofty cares or not - he doesn't flinch at the others, doesn't say anything at all, simply follows behind like a small child. The whispers grow louder behind them as they continue on - is that Lofty? Who’s Lofty? Shut up, mun, they can hear you - but, and Drippy thanks the gods for it, no one stops them or calls out. The only thing Drippy stops for is to tell someone that the kingmaker is gone. Lofty shifts a little at his words, but doesn't object.

They leave the main village, and walk up to Drippy's small home, tucked away. Drippy sits on the grass. Lofty joins him, in the same spot he always used to. Drippy waits for a while, seeing if Lofty will say anything first, but then sighs. He wants to shout and scream at him, wants to snarl and pick up their last conversation where they left off - but he looks dishevelled, like he’s been flying for days. Drippy thinks he maybe has been. "What happened to you, mun?" he asks gently instead.

Lofty looks at him, eyes sunken and tired, quietly sad. "You were right," he whispers.

"About what?"

Lofty closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, holding himself together with a thread. And Drippy knows.

—

"I want to leave the island," Lofty had announced one afternoon.

Drippy had stared at him, not quite believing it. He was a few centuries old by that point - younger than Drippy had been when he had met Alicia. "No."

"I'm going to do it, whether you like it or not." He had held his head high, staring Drippy down defiantly.

"You don't know what's out there, mun," Drippy had said, ignoring the swirl of panic in his stomach.

"You've told me about everything!" Lofty counters.

No, I haven't. He hadn't told him about everything. He hadn't talked about how awful it is to be attached to a human. "Lofty, think about this," he had begged quietly.

"I have, mun!" He had started pacing in Drippy's little den, flattening the grass under his feet. "This place is too small for me, en't it? I want something bigger." He had been so excited, stars in his eyes, as if Drippy was going to agree to let him go. "I want to see the world! I want to go to that desert you used to talk about, the mountains, the cities - I want to meet a kingmaker." His eyes had sparkled at that in particular. "I want to-"

"That's enough!" Drippy snapped, louder than he had ever gotten with Lofty - who had flinched back, eyes wide in alarm. "You are not to leave Teeheeti!"

He had recovered quickly. "Why not?" he challenged. "What could be out there? Why do you get to leave and go off on all these adventures but I have to stay by here all bored?"

"Because-!" Drippy huffed. "I don't want you getting youerself hurt."

"As if!" Lofty had rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine! We have monsters here on the island!"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Drippy had shouted. "Humans-”

“What do humans have to do with this?”

“-they’re fragile. Humans live for a century if they're very lucky-"

"Then I'd better get going if I ever want to meet one!" Lofty snapped back.

"You do not want to meet one!"

“Yes I do!” he had retorted, and Drippy had seethed.

“No, you don’t!” he had all but shrieked, and a dam somewhere in him broke. "Humans are awful! They're kind, they make leaps and bounds of progress in only a few years, they’re awful to each other and yet the nicest things you will ever meet, they live such short lives-" auburn hair, brightest smile- "-and they just live with it, and love so fiercely you forget!" Tears start pouring out of his eyes, and he does nothing to stop them. "You forget they just die! They-" he was cut off by the lump in his throat, and he swallowed, looking at the ground to get himself back together.

Lofty was quiet. Then, "I am not going to stay trapped here because of one flipping human you knew centuries ago!" he had screamed, and he had turned around, and stormed out of the clearing.

Drippy had barely noticed him leave. He had sat down heavily on the grass, putting his hands to his mouth to muffle sobs, letting tears flow for the first time in years. He had thought, for a while, that he had gotten over this grief; that it would become easier as time passed, that he would move on. He was beginning to think that would never be the case.

When Oliver died, he had been mourned worldwide. His funeral had been small, despite it - the great sages they had known when Shadar was defeated were long gone, as was Swaine. Esther had gone only a few years before him. Their descendants had known him well, of course, as a kind uncle or godfather who made time to visit even through his busiest hours, but Drippy was the only one left from that time. Drippy had been the only one to stay with him through it all, and he had feared the time he would leave - rightfully so.

You'll be okay, Mr. Drippy, had said a voice cracked with age. I know you will.

—

His name was Evan.

He was a king, a founder of a kingdom that has grown enough to be called an empire. Lofty - rambunctious little Lofty - was his kingmaker. As awful as he feels, Drippy manages a swell of pride in his chest at that. When he's feeling a little better - which may take a while - he resolves to ask him how that happened. For now…

"He was a good kid," Lofty warbles. "A good adult, too, like, but-"

"I know," Drippy says. "I get it." Evan would be mourned worldwide, too.

"I'm sorry." Lofty's tears water the grass below. "I didn't know what you meant. I didn't-"

"I know." Drippy gets up and crouches in front of Lofty, leaning down to put his arms around him in a hug. "I know." He’s the only one who really does.

There's a small pause, a moment of hesitation. Then, Lofty puts his arms around Drippy, buries his face in his shoulder, and wails.

—

Drippy, after their argument, had woken up the next morning and, refreshed from a good night's sleep and regretting his tone the day before, went down to the village immediately.

"Oi!" he had called to one of the shopkeeps. "You seen Lofty about?"

He had shaken his head. "Not today, no. Have you tried…?"

Every place he tried said the same thing. It was about midday when he had started to get worried; it was mid afternoon when he called for people to start searching. When they finally found something, it was evidence of a raft being built, and the marks in the sand as it was dragged out to sea. Lofty hadn't answered any telepathy attempts, and Drippy had arguably cried more than he had the day before.

—

Lofty falls asleep in Drippy's clearing.

It's not the first time it's happened, but it is, of course, the first time in a while - though Drippy hadn't realised kingmakers need sleep. All of that magic power has to recharge somehow, he supposes. It’s midday, now; he wonders how long he’ll sleep for.

He hasn't thought about Oliver in a long time, he thinks. Part of him feels guilty for it. The rest of him thinks he might be okay after all.

Well, Ollie-boy, Drippy thinks, slightly humorously, it only took a millennium. Are you proud of me?

He wonders how long it will take for Lofty. The gods know he won't let him wallow like he's done - he can't, anyway. He's a kingmaker, with a kingdom and everything. He should be there to protect it - but, Drippy supposes, how much harm can they do in these few days? He deserves a bit of a rest. Apart from anything, a kingsbond is a sacred thing; to have it broken by death is something that he's sure has become numb to other kingmakers, but not yet to Lofty.

Drippy sighs, looking up at the sky, sunlight passing over and filtered through the leaves. Then, he gets up. He may be creakier than he was, but Lofty is smaller and lighter than him, and he picks him up with only a little struggle, placing him in his hammock. He sleeps all day, and into the evening - Drippy is fine sleeping on the soft grass.

He wakes up the next morning to find Lofty still dead to the world. Kingmaker sleep cycles, he supposes. He takes the chance to go into his small hut, one that he only uses for storage, and digs around for something. It's a photo; the paper kept together by magic, only starting to show signs of age. He had shoved it in the bottom of a box and tried to forget about it, along with Oliver's locket. It's of Oliver, in his twenties, grinning and waving at the camera. Drippy had almost forgotten what he looked like.

He doubts it would be a good idea to show Lofty this now. But maybe, in a few centuries. For now, he just wanted to look at it.

—

Lofty leaves that afternoon. He almost doesn't - but Drippy points out his duties as a kingmaker, and he reluctantly agrees.

"He has a son," Lofty says. "Little Dina. Probably be getting ready for his coronation, and all."

"Oh, yeah?" Drippy says. "S'pose I should come visit you at some point, en't it?"

Lofty, despite it all, snorts. "And leave Teeheeti? Come off it."

Drippy doesn't respond to that. He watches Lofty get ready to transform; this time, half the town is out here, littlies watching him curiously from the sidelines. "D'you have a kingmaker name, then?" he asks.

Lofty pauses. "Yeah. Draigfawrlanlofft."

Drippy's nose scrunches up. "Bit of a mouthful, en't it? Think I'll keep calling you Lofty."

Lofty rolls his eyes. "Does that mean I can call you Drippy, then, Lord High Lord?"

Yes, Drippy almost responds. He fakes offence instead. "Oi! Have some respect for youer elders, mun!"

Lofty doesn't laugh, but he smiles a little for the first time since he got here. "Be seeing you," he says.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?" Drippy says gently.

A flash of emotion goes across Lofty's face, and he bows his head to hide it. "I won't," he promises quietly, then turns, and in a flash of light, the true kingmaker - Draigfawrlanlofft - reveals himself. Fairies around them gasp as he weaves through the air, does a small circle to seemingly get his bearings, and then shoots off in the direction he came from.

Drippy watches him go, disappearing into the distance, then turns to go back into the village. "You know," he says to one of his old friends, "maybe we should start thinking about leaving the island again."