Silver and Gold Ch. 16

Silver laid his arm softly next to Feldspar's, his pale silver-undertoned skin contrasting with Feldspar's warm golden tan. The composition, style and color of the simple line-drawn whisk was an exact match with Feldspar's tattoo.

"It's perfect," Feldspar said.

"Totally perfect."

Arnau accepted their praise with a smug smile, stretched, and then shooed Feldspar out of the chair and ushered Silver into his place. "Move you lazy faery. This inspiration, it comes one time in life." As soon as he'd gotten a new set of sterilized tools he set to work on the blank slate of Silver's other arm.

Hours passed and conversation ebbed and flowed in the shop. Arnau worked continuously, as if in a trance as friends and clients came and went. Yago and Liam dropped by in the early evening before heading out to the soft opening of a restaurant Yago had advised on its wine list. Liam hinted obliquely that he had some type of relationship with the owner. Whether they were friends, enemies or acquaintances Feldspar was hard pressed to guess.

When Arnau finally put down the tattoo machine deep in the night, Silver's entire forearm was covered in a line drawing of a redwood grove. A band of black around his wrist marked the ground, which was covered in minuscule, curling fronds of bracken. Here and there tiny figures could be picked out, including one that appeared to be holding a sword casually on one shoulder. A slightly shimmery figure holding a chef's knife stood next to him, and Feldspar could have sworn they were gazing at each other. The figures were much too small to have distinguishable expressions, yet something about the body language made it clear they were in love.

Stretching up behind the figures stood enormous redwood trees, dotted with rope bridges and ladders almost too small to be noticed against the enormous trees. Up by Silver's elbows birds flew across the sky of his inner elbow. Even higher the sky faded into inky blackness dotted by the moon and stars aligned in the constellations they could see from the beach of the Wood's tropical island.

Feldspar's mouth hung open in wonder as he examined the tattoo. The details of the Wood were so real it beggared belief. Arnau was human and had never visited the Wood, yet somehow had replicated it in perfect detail."This isn't real. You cannot be human."

Arnau's eyes were unfocused and his jaw hung open slightly as if he'd just awoken. "This it is my best work," he said, mystified. "Now you see why I say 'inspiration' and make you move."

Feldspar shook his head. "How did you do this?"

"This is faery magic, yes?" he said as he went to the backroom and emerged with a tall glass of water, the first sustenance he'd had in the better part of ten hours.

Feldspar snorted at the mention of magic. "Strictly speaking we are faeries, but not the kind who could do that. Silver and I do small magic. Keeping food from spoiling, prolonged strength and stamina, that sort of thing. This was your doing."

Arnau shrugged carelessly, his eyes glued to the tattoo. He was staring at it as if he also couldn't quite believe the perfection of all its intricacies.

"I don't know, babe," Silver said slowly. "Tattoos aren't just the artist. They're..." he struggled to find his words. "They're like meditation. Like a ritual. I provide the canvas and the raw ideas. Arnau interprets them and provides the talent. This time though, you were here, too."

"What?"

"Yeah," Silver said, tearing his eyes away from his arm at last so he could look at Feldspar. "I think it was you."

"I have no idea what you mean. I don't do magic."

Silver shook his head vehemently. "No, I've watched you pretty closely for a long time." Feldspar's confused expression lifted long enough for him to smirk. Silver rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we all know I had a crush of colossal proportions. Back to the point. When you're at a party I can literally tell where you've been because people you've bumped into are having the most fun. It's like a contrail of Feldspar vibes. That's not all. Mal and Gneiss always wanted you with them not just because you're strong, but because you made them stronger, better. Even when you guys were all sleeping together you were the one they wanted, not each other. Maybe you don't do it consciously, but you're definitely doing something magical. You're probably doing it all the time. Because this work? This isn't the best tattoo Arnau has ever done. It's the best tattoo that's ever been inked. You were the difference."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Okay then," Feldspar said mock snappishly.

"Okay!"

They stared at each other, trying to keep their faces straight. Silver cracked first and started laughing, followed almost immediately by Feldspar. After their chuckles subsided Feldspar shook his head, bemused. Silver could think whatever he wanted about his magic. It made no difference to him. What did matter -- what had him smiling for the rest of their time in Paris -- was that right there, in the most perfect tattoo he'd ever seen, there was a little figure of himself and a little figure of Silver, in ink. Permanent ink. He liked the sound of that.

******

"You ready for eleven hours of sitting?" Silver said after they'd cleared security at the airport. The final few days of their trip had been filled with frantic last-minute stocking up on human goodies, friends dropping by for one last hang with Silver, and trips to the city's trendiest fae-owned restaurants, galleries and music venues. They were practically asleep on their feet by the time they made it to the airport. Feldspar had taken the lead this time on getting their boarding passes and navigating the chaotic hub. Dealing with the hassles of human bureaucracy and air travel was the perfect way to get him excited for his own people and the idyll of the Wood.

Feldspar grimaced. "Ugh. Just promise me the plane isn't going to crash."

"Aww, nervous babe? I'll hold your hand you poor, wittle guy."

"Last time the plane dropped twenty feet! You were asleep!"

Silver laughed. "I promise it won't crash, and if we have turbulence again I really will hold your hand. And you can sleep on my shoulder this time."

Feldspar huffed. He had to admit having nowhere to be, snuggling up with Silver watching TV and eating junk food was enticing. At the basic level that was all air travel was, just in uncomfortable seats jammed in a deafeningly loud metal death trap that smelled of grease and chemical-coated fabrics with two hundred humans for company. He made a face at Silver.

"Tell you what. You can wear this." Silver pulled his Pizza My Heart sweatshirt out of his carry-on backpack. "It's super lucky and nothing bad can happen to you when you're wearing it."

Feldspar's heart constricted as Silver pulled the ratty sweatshirt over his head. It fit perfectly. Silver had made good on his promise of feeding Feldspar up to a healthier weight, and now they were exactly the same size. Feldspar inhaled deeply as Silver's rosemary spice scent enveloped him.

"Or," Silver said, drawing the syllable out as he gave Feldspar a mischievous look. "If you're still nervous on the plane we could check out the mile high club."

Feldspar was about to ask what that was when the sound of someone screaming his name from back near security yanked them both out of their conversation.

"FELDSPAR! Feldspar, wait!"

Feldspar whipped around with a jerk, shock written across his features. He would know that voice anywhere. There, just on the other side of the security area, wild-eyed and radiating magic, was Mal.

####

Thanks for reading! Comments, question, theories, and jokes always welcome! Just two more chapters after this, and then I'll be working on my next project set in this world.