No name. She had no name, no wings... no life.
She had no colour. No joy, no laughter, only tears.
Was there any? Had she forgotten? Was it even real? Nameless, yes. Hopeless as well?
Rain fell. The tears of the sky floated down in a drizzling torrent, softly falling and striking hard. Puddles dotted the ground in Neopia Central, the remains of rain which could not be soaked into the already drenched ground despite how much more was continually falling. No one walked the streets.
Shops were closed in the early morning, proving it was not time to open just yet. Dreary grey clouds swirled about in the hidden sky, unleashing and shedding the droplets of water as they cried mournfully.
She sat under a tree, attempting to keep dry. The grey faerie looked about sorrowfully, up at the sky which seemed to share her feelings. Its sorrow mixing with her own, deep and strong as though tearing at her broken heart.
Smoke rose from the chimney of the Soup Kitchen. The faerie stared at it. Her sister was known for her kindness. Maybe, just maybe...
The grey faerie stood and began walking towards the friendly building. As the chilling rain began to sting upon striking her skin, she took off running, her bare feet now caked with mud.
Reaching the open door, she stepped in, looking about uncertainly.
The grey faerie cut a pitiful figure with her skin soaked as thoroughly as her torn, ragged dress. Her hair had fallen and was draped about her shoulders like a shawl plastered to her body. A puddle was forming around her as she stood trembling.
She blinked as the realization that no one was there hit her. The grey faerie could smell scents drifting in from the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled painfully and she winced, clutching it longingly.
Taking a hesitant step forward, she paused before continuing on. The Soup Faerie was busily humming as she ran about the room, grabbing food and spices with hardly a glance and tossing them into the huge pot of soup she was so famous for.
The grey faerie watched in fascination, her hunger temporarily forgotten. The Soup Faerie stopped suddenly, her brown eyes landing on the pathetic figure standing in the doorway of her kitchen.
“Great Fyora!” she nearly yelled, jumping back in shock and almost hitting the steaming pot with a yelp. She adjusted the red bandana around her head, her eyes wide.
“What in Neopia are you doing here, V—” she cut off, just about saying the grey faerie’s name, a forbidden deed to other faeries.
“I-I was hungry and...” she faded off, looking at her sister with hopeful eyes. The Soup Faerie shook her head sorrowfully, avoiding the other’s gaze.
“I can’t,” she replied sharply as she hurriedly turned to her soup once more, stirring it forcefully.
The grey faerie’s eyes fell.
“I understand,” she murmured, turning to leave. She glanced back, hoping her fellow faerie would change her mind. The Soup Faerie remained fixated on her pot, refusing to look up.
The grey faerie lowered her head dejectedly and walked forlornly away and into the freezing rain, not caring about the water as it soaked her once more, mingling with the tears rolling down her face.
She wandered in the rain drenched streets aimlessly for a time of which she lost track. What was hours later, she glanced around, her thoughts disappearing and fading away as she realized it was no longer raining. The sun shone down, peeking through the wall of grey clouds which was quickly dissolving into the blue sky as it came into view.
Water droplets, remnants of the former gloom, glistened like diamonds on the leaves of plants and trees alike.
The grey faerie wandered on, abandoning the soon-to-be-busy streets, for the soft green grass. She walked for a few minutes, which seemed to drag on for ages, without looking, the beauty caused by the life-giving rain lost on her self-pitying eyes.
When she did glance up from her fixed gaze on the ground, she was staring at a sparkling field of blooming flowers. She sat down cross legged without a thought, staring at a deep purple blossom. The grey faerie stroked its petals in silence, yet another tear sliding down her pale-skinned face.
The flowers wouldn’t reject her. That much she knew.
“No! Don’t touch that!”
The grey faerie jumped, jerking her hand away from the plant sharply. The voice continued talking to another as she wildly searched for the owner.
“Yes, it’s very poisonous. No! You absolutely cannot eat it!”
An Aisha with white fur stepped out of the forest further down in the meadow, below a slight hill, upon whose side the faerie sat. She was followed by a small green Bori and was herself no great size. She wore a simple green dress and held a basket on her left arm filled with an odd assortment of plants and roots, yet other than that, there was something different about her.
The Aisha brushed a strand of her night-black hair out of her face and grabbed the Bori’s arm as he leapt at a brilliantly crimson flower, bombarding her with questions and hardly noticing the fact that he wasn’t moving despite his legs blurring action. His little voice was small and underdeveloped but it didn’t seem to stop him one bit.
“Is dissun pursnose? I touchit? It make Muma sock? It does, I wannit.”
The Aisha glared at him.
“No, if it makes Mum sick, you don’t want it.”
The Bori stuck out his tongue but pulled it back in his mouth as he spotted the grey faerie. He immediately shot up the hill to her, followed by a small, fat altalaphus who was yelling some kind of ‘frrrrlp’ sound as it leapt over the grass and flowers with effort, and flapping its practically useless wings long enough to see its owner before disappearing with a satisfied purr each time, merely to repeat with each hop it took.
“Jether! Don’t you dare bother that faerie!” the Aisha yelled. Jether ignored his sister, jumping about the faerie hyperactively.
“Hiya! Wha’s yore name? You not look like mos’ fae’ies. Dey no like me muck. Not know why. Ah on’y bowed Miz Loose’s taff one.”
The grey faerie blinked in bewilderment, unsure as to how she should respond to the Bori whom she could hardly understand.
“Yes, you know why faeries don’t like you,” the Aisha sighed as she approached the frightened faerie. “And you stole Illusen’s staff, not borrowed.”
“Bowed,” Jether replied stubbornly. The Aisha pursed her lips then turned to the grey faerie, smiling kindly if not a little shyly.
“My name is Serena,” she said softly. “This is Jether and his petpet, Nefaire.” Jether waved his paw repeatedly before Serena caught it and Nefaire looked up at the faerie with shining eyes, rubbing against her filthy leg adoringly. The fallen faerie jumped once more as a horus flew down and landed on Serena’s shoulder from seemingly out of nowhere.
“Oh, and this is Feyden,” Serena introduced, stroking the white-feathered head. “What’s your name?”
The grey faerie shook her head slowly.
“I-I can’t tell you,” she whispered meekly. Serena nodded; her silky black hair sliding into her face once more. As it did so, the grey faerie noticed that which had avoided her before: a faint blue glow surrounding the small Aisha.
“No,” Jether spoke, drawing her attention. “Sena no dead. Jus’ painted.”
The grey faerie nodded once again, wondering how the little Bori knew what she had been thinking. The three stared about uncomfortably for a moment before she was thrown off by the next sudden question.
“You look hungry. Would you like something to eat?”
She nodded numbly, shocked by the Aisha. No one dared ask a grey faerie if they wanted something, much less actually show them anything other than pity. Serena sat down and pushed aside the plants in her basket to pull out a piece of bread, wrapped in a cloth, which she handed to the faerie who took it gratefully.
“Sorry, that’s all we have left from lunch,” Serena informed her ruefully. “Why don’t you come home with us? You could get cleaned up and everything,” she offered. The grey faerie’s eyes widened further, if possible, stopping her in mid-bite.
“I-I couldn’t,” she stammered. Serena smiled and stood, holding out her paw.
“Sure you can.”
The grey faerie stood nervously in the middle of the lounge in Serena’s neohome, her hair wet and clean with some jeans and a simple purple shirt on. She jumped uneasily as Jael_Catherine, Serena’s owner and the one who lent her the clothes, walked into the room. The young girl observed her guest.
“Yes, you look much better. I hope you feel cleaner as well,” she said kindly, turning to go into the kitchen. She paused. “Aratha is making a snack if you would like some and you can stay for supper too,” she suggested, but without giving the faerie a chance to reply, she continued. “Of course, even if you say no, I won’t allow a hungry person to leave till they’ve eaten so, when you put it all together, you don’t really have a choice.”
Jael grinned as she turned to leave the grey faerie who merely managed a nod and faint smile of bemusement. As she left, Jether entered through another door and sat down on a huge writer’s armchair, naturally followed by Nefaire. The altalaphus looked up at his owner, then at the chair which was incredibly huge compared to his tiny fat stature. He gave an annoyed chirrup and hopped up as high as he could, flapping his inadequate wings. Jether reached out and caught him in his claws just as he was about to fall to the ground. Nefaire purred lovingly, nudging his owner and cuddling up beside him.
“When you leave, Hope?” the little Bori inquired, tilting his head curiously. The grey faerie shrugged.
“Tomorrow, I gue—” She stopped. “Wh-what did you call me?” she whispered. Jether imitated her, shrugging his little shoulders.
“Hope,” he answered simply.
“’Cause y’ need it an’ a name,” he replied. He stared at her for a moment. “Why you not chain?” he asked. The grey faerie blinked, realizing what Jether had been trying to do.
“Oh.” She laughed sadly. “I can’t change back unless someone uses my real name,” she answered, suddenly no longer feeling awkward in the neohome. “Or I get my wings given back. Thank you for trying, though.”
She watched as Jether’s eyes fell. He sighed.
“I thought it work. What fae’ie are you?” he continued to question. The grey faerie sat down on the green antique couch.
“I was a dark faerie,” she answered. Jether’s green eyes proceeded to widen.
“When I didn’t want to help the others whom I thought were my friends, they got mad and framed me for the crime they progressed to commit when I stepped back. Everything pointed at me; it was so well thought out.” She paused and heaved a sorrowful sigh. “I was convicted guilty and had my wings taken away.”
They were silent for a long while then Jether looked up.
“You not have t’ have ol’ name to live,” he said quietly. The grey faerie glanced at her new little friend as he continued. “But can have new one,” he suggested. “Hope.”
“Hope,” the grey faerie echoed.
A grey faerie walked about the streets of Neopia Central. She watched all that went on and ignored the stares she was receiving. Faint wispy clouds streaked the cool blue sky with brush-like strokes of glistening white. The faerie shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, not in gloom but merely to keep them warm in the chilly breeze which hissed through the land.
She looked up, her eyes landing on a certain building. Without a thought, she found herself striding to the pound. She stepped into the dreary structure, her eyes roving about ceaselessly. The mean looking yellow Techo at the desk looked up sharply. He narrowed his eyes.
“May I help you?” he inquired coldly. “I don’t believe faeries are allowed to own pets,” he continued stiffly. The grey faerie brushed his tone aside.
“I would just like to look around,” she whispered softly. The Techo nodded gruffly and stood to lead her back to the rooms. The faerie felt a deep sorrow upon seeing the miserable pets, each one abandoned in either anger, carelessness, or the fact that their former owner had to leave.
They all looked up at her in confusion. She sat down amidst them, a small whisper leaving her lips.
“Hope. Don’t lose hope.”