Silver and Gold Ch. 15

"They can't replicate the smell of battle. Or for that matter, the sounds," Feldspar said dryly. "Thank the stars for that, Sil."

"Let's move on," Silver said. "I think I'm done with realism for now."

"Me too, love. Me too."

Feldspar was content to let Silver lead him at an accelerated pace through several galleries. He didn't feel the need to linger over paintings of faery wars and vampire hunts. The human museum goers lingered and Feldspar caught snatches of murmured conversation as they wove their way from one gallery to the next. Commentary on historical significance, artistic muses, brushwork, color composition blended together, all coalescing into one thought: to the humans, even those in Europe, the death of his people and others like them was a distant, abstract thing.

By the time Silver had led him outside to the park outside the museum Feldspar recognized the strange feeling of longing and love that had been plaguing him all afternoon for what it was. He was homesick for his own kind. Homesick for his friends and the Wood.

Silver's pace slowed once the din of the museum faded into the background. It was cold and grey, and few people were strolling through the paths lined by bare-branched trees. Feldspar lifted his eyes to the tree line and imagined he was home among his own kind. The ground beneath his feet was too hard and even to give the illusion of walking through the woods. The air was too sharp and smelled of humans and machinery. The constant hum of traffic and distant sirens rankled his senses.

And yet. Silver's hand in his was warm and the brush of their shoulders as they walked was comforting. Suddenly he found the unfamiliar sensations assaulting his senses faded to the background. With Silver, anywhere felt like home. He caught Silver's eye, and whatever Silver saw in his expression made him smile.

They walked hand-in-hand as Silver began telling Feldspar about the Christmas market that had been set up in the park the year before, and the fantastic hot chocolate he'd bought there but had never been able to replicate. Silver was lost in the description of its spices and what combination of milk and cream could have produced its exact flavor profile. His grey eyes were shining, his breath came out in wisps of grey, and his Silver haired shone brilliantly against the winter landscape around them. Feldspar thought it was funny how his world was nothing but grays and silvers, and yet felt so full of color.

Feldspar found himself hoping the next time Christmas came, he could bring Silver back. Maybe the two of them could figure out the recipe together. If not, licking whipped cream from his lips would be worth the trip.

"I like this one." Feldspar pointed to a sculpture they were approaching. It depicted two nude figures entwined in a passionate kiss.

"Perv." Silver poked him in the ribs and laughed. "I like it too. He did a whole series of fae creatures, you know. We could go see them at the Musée Rodin tomorrow if you want."

"Are they good?"

"They're amazing. Rumor has it that he had a faery lover. At the time it wasn't strictly legal and would have been quite the scandal, but he still referred to her as his muse openly. He also put on salons featuring fae artists. Tons of the famous human artists were opened-minded about the fae. Artists played a big role in ensuring the peaceful integration of humans and magical species here."

"Huh." Feldspar glanced around the garden again. It was almost painful to think that had there been something so banal as better artists in his homeland, they could have had this. He wondered what Mal would think of that idea. It was not a strategy he, Gneiss or Mal ever would have considered. "Art did that?"

"Yeah. Wild, right?"

Feldspar nodded, lost in thought. "The European fae didn't win with strength, but with cunning. They won the hearts of the humans?"

"You could put it that way. From what I understand it's still a very deliberate effort. Yago has the best wine shop in the continent, and it's no mistake he's located in the wine capital of the world. Going to Yago's shop is an elevated experience, something no human shop could replicate. Liam is a stone-cold predator, but the humans tolerate him because he takes pains to conspicuously supply not only the best cuts of meat to humans, but a steady supply of non-human blood to his kind. There are fae movie stars and singers, the best clubs in town are fae-owned. Arnau has even said that having so many of us as clients raised the profile of his shop. People see it as a mark of good taste that so many fae patronize him. We're still a minority in Europe, but we're visible and we're... fun, I guess. Humans like us, in general."

Feldspar's eyes stung. He couldn't count the number of faeries he'd fought alongside who were nothing but a memory now. So much potential, all gone. He, Mal and Gneiss had fought so hard and had saved only a tiny remnant of their people. The idea that they could have won under different circumstances made him feel sick.

Silver saw the look on his face and frowned in concern. Feldspar swiped a hand across his eyes quickly. The past was past. He needed to turn his thoughts to the future. "Do you think it would be possible to do the same in America?"

Silver lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, I mean, if someone with enough connections started making introductions to people who matter. If humans with influence got behind whatever the Lord and Lady's plan is for disclosing the Wood's presence to the Americans, it would probably help a lot."

Feldspar took in the garden around them. Lovers strolling hand-in-hand, businesspeople talking on their phones, office workers wearing skirt suits and walking shoes eating their lunch. Humans, faeries, fauns. There had been wars here once, and the echoes of those continued to the present day. The gallery had been evidence enough of that.

But there was peace, too. It felt like the answer to a question he, Gneiss and Mal had put on hold for far too long after they'd retreated to the safety of the Wood.

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