Fairy Bunking Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Napalm Martini Binge

Indeed, it was a memorable moment. A wide strip of ground, once emerald in hue and bright with daisies, had been completely scorched. Wafts of smoke drifted lazily into the air, seeping from blackened lumps of earth where enemy soldiers once fought. From the thick leaves and fern fan-traceries that climbed a short earthen wall to the edge of a high, wheaten meadow, the land was completely wasted.

Claptrap still stood as she had for most of the ordeal, her index and middle fingers ringed with the remains of her teacup, and standing in the center of the biggest, greenest leaf. At a loss for words, she looked from one black lump to another, anywhere for a know face. Relief took hold when she saw Alacrity wading through the meadow, dragging some sort of enemy equipment. Yet, words still escaped her, which, for her, was the most horrifying part.

Above the grit and sweat of battle, Alacrity had been dusted with pollen when she gave chase through the meadow. Barbs clung to cloth appointments she wore over her armor. At some point in the fray, she had grown quite hot, and had opened the front plate of her armor. After the final chase, she had unfastened the entire front to let her clammy skin breathe. In doing so, she exposed a translucent corset that tightly wound about her very feminine waist, and that held her breasts aloft in an over-exaggerated display of cleavage. Her rifle was slung combat-style across her back, and she drug part of the armor from an enemy soldier.

In that moment - Claptrap standing agape, Alacrity standing astride the ideal human fancy of warfare and eroticism - Scarcity erupted from the forest and started screaming, flailing her hands so wildly above her head that she struck herself several times. Behind her, three mud-covered fairies emerged from the woods, and came to a halt as they surveyed the carnage.

And Alacrity was the first to notice the memorable part, because she looked directly at Ubermensch, un-slung her rifle, and dropped both rifle and enemy gear to the ground.

"That's so typically human-male," she accused with a teasing tone, and motioned to her chest. "We may prance and flit about nude, but because I think its easier to fight if I wear this, and just because it happens to push up my breasts as it does, all lucid thought vacates your heads and you stand there with only one thing .." but she broke off and walked towards them with a grateful smile. "How good it is to see other fairies after the likes of this," and she gestured towards the carnage about her.

Ubermensch was silent, still looking around, but Perfidious quickly walked towards Alacrity and extended his arms as though to hug her. "No, no, what is the one thing?"

She held out her arm to keep him at bay, and said, "Stop. No. You're filthy, and..."

"The stink!" Claptrap said, broken of her long silence. "My word, wherever did you discover such a despicable odor?"

With Perfidious at arm's length, Alacrity looked passed him towards Ubermensch, narrowed her eyes just enough to give him what affection she could muster. She was filled with gladness to see him, no matter how filthy. At that moment, she wanted to be near him, no matter how smelly. But, she didn't want to merely brush aside Perfidious.

Except, now, Perfidious had become distracted, even from Alacrity standing as she did, no matter how ideal to any human-male or fairy fancy, because upon the short earthen embankment, he saw the flash of a bushy tail. And, now could see the glint of familiar eyes. He was entranced.

Seeing Perfidious' attention taken away, Alacrity sidestepped him, withdrew a delicately crafted cloth from within her armor, and approached Ubermensch.

Ubermensch walked into the wasted clearing, and said, "Is everything, and everyone, alright?"

Alacrity smiled and nodded. "Yes, now they are. Scarcity is in need of some attention."

Ubermensch raised an eyebrow. "Was she wounded?"

Scarcity shook her head, "No. I just fell from the plant when the enemy arrived."

"And then she fell several more times, and probably gave herself a good sock to the head when you three startled her so," Claptrap added. "A bath is certainly in order."

Ubermensch nodded, then glanced at Apraxia. "Why don't you three go get cleaned up while Alacrity and I figure out our status."

Apraxia sighed with relief, took Scarcity in hand, and beckoned to Claptrap. "Yes, yes. You wouldn't believe what Ubermensch lead us through. And just try and see what color my beautiful vest used to be. You can't because it's covered in human chemical sewage."

Alacrity smirked, then offered the cloth to Ubermensch. "For your face," she said. As the others left towards a nearby brook, she took a step closer to him. "It was a tiring battle," she admitted, and continued with a confession, "and pretty ridiculous. They just don't make good soldiers," she motioned towards the brook.

Ubermensch accepted the cloth and turned it over in his hand, admiring the fine embroidery on the edges. "Perfidious made a good show of it in our skirmish, but I know what you mean."

He lifted, and dabbed his eyes, then noticed a deep red vertical line along Alacrity's corset. "You're hurt," he said with concern, and reached inside her armor, his fingers gingerly drawing aside the neatly cut corset to better see the wound. Though his attention was on the wound, which was deep but not mortal, his eyes couldn't help but follow the graceful curve of Alacrity's now exposed breast. The desire to kiss her, to kiss her wound, to kiss her breast, overwhelmed him, and he drew the corset back inches further until a halo of rouge was visible at the apex of her breast.

Alacrity murmured, seeing the growing desire in his eyes, "it's not that bad," then glanced over her shoulder. "I should really clean it, though."

Ubermensch withdrew his hand, the corset's elasticity drew the material back across Alacrity's exposed side, and he nodded in agreement. "I must be a sight," he said and smirked. "We should probably form a camp. You shouldn't travel today anyway, and I know Perfidious and Apraxia could use the rest."

The fairies spent several hours basking beside the brook, cleaning themselves of the filth of battle and other things, and took their time fashioning a small encampment. Apraxia found some lavendar, and after using most of it on himself, offered the remainder to the females.

As the sun slumbered just below the horizon and a full moon brightened the evening sky, the fairies stripped their armor from their bodies and lay naked about the encampment. While Apraxia was off on an errand to scavenge equipment from the enemy, and Scarcity snored in deep slumber, Perfidious regaled the other fairies with an account of that morning.

"And there was Apraxia," Perfidious managed to say between shrill bouts of laughter, "covered in mud, with this look," he made an exaggerated, dour expression and pulled the corners of his mouth down with his fingers. "So, he holds up his hand to his vest, and all of you know how much he hates to get even a speck of dust on his clothes, so he says: camouflaged." And he fell back on a bedding of leaves, full of laughter.

Ubermensch smirked, and gave Perfidious' tale ample time to sink in, before adding, "Almost as entertaining as the Squirrel." He winked to Alacrity.

"Wha?" He looked between Ubermensch and Alacrity. "She wasn't there."

"I was most certainly here," Alacrity said. "You were in the midst of one of your courtships when you completely and suddenly ignored me and started ogling some luscious squirrel." She smiled teasingly.

"Not that time," Ubermensch added, and his smile broadened.

"There was another time?" Alacrity asked, surprised, as she had only suspected the one instance.

"I ran into a squirrel before the enemy showed up," Perfidious said defensively.

"You were carrying on a full one-fairy courtship show," Ubermensch said.

"You weren't there. You're just repeating what Apraxia said."

"You were talking in a hollow log. Your voice probably echoed all the way over to where the enemy gathered."

"Oooh," Claptrap smiled, sitting up now. "Perfidious is involved in an interspecies romance."

"I am not!" Perfidious stammered.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about," Claptrap said.

"I'm not ashamed." He almost shouted.

"Now don't be getting defensive," Claptrap said, and the two went into a devolved conversation of did-not-did-so.

Ubermensch reached over to Alacrity and took her hand in his. He turned his head to the side and gazed at the silhouette of her naked fairy form backed by the moonlight. Momentarily lost in a poetic sensation that felt strange to him, he whispered, "If I was Perfidious, I would make a song about how you look next to the moon."

Alacrity squeezed his hand. "If you were Perfidious, you'd already be on top of me," she commented all too dryly. But, then she turned her head and looked back at him. "But I'm glad you're not Perfidious. Promiscuity can be fun in doses, but," she fell quiet.

"After a couple thousand years of the prancing, the flitting about, the excessive kissing games, and the what-not, it does get rather old, doesn't it?" Ubermensch finished.

Alacrity rolled on her side and placed her arm across his chest, drawing her chest and legs against his warm body, and giving him a gentle hug. "And when this battle is over, I'm sure we'll return to our merry ways of flitting, prancing, excessive kissing, and as you say, the what-not."

"I'm sure Apraxia will be pleased," Ubermensch said and smiled. "Speaking of him, where has he been?"

Alacrity lifted her head and looked about. "There he is," she pointed over his chest.

Apraxia walked very slowly, carefully carrying Claptrap's teapot, his facing glowing bright red. "Careful, careful," he was saying to himself.

"Have you made some tea, then?" Claptrap asked, glad to break from the repetitive debate she was having with Perfidious.

"Oh, oh, oh" Apraxia said far too effeminately for a male fairy. He paused and set the teapot down. "Since we did win the day, the pretty little boy fairies successfully escaping the nasty human waste-swamp, and the pretty little girl fairies laying waste to some ancient tract of forest, I thought a little celebratory toast was in order."

"I'll bite," Perfidious asked. "What did you make?"

Apraxia produced one of Claptrap's cups and poured a phosphorescent, thick brew, but just a little bit, into the cup. He offered it to Perfidious. "Drink, and then I'll tell you."

Perfidious accepted the cup, and looked skeptically at its luminescent contents, which had a very citric and oily aroma, and tantalized his nose and mouth. He rotated it in his hands, "is this the sampler then," he remarked on the very small quantity.

"No, no, no" Apraxia said, sat down, and it was obvious he had sampled some of his own brew already. "That is, as humans have been lately prone to say, the proverbial 'mega-size'."

"That's Super-Size," Perfidious muttered, well acquainted with his human trash.

"Whatever, just try it."

He looked at the others, who only shrugged. He lifted the cup to his lips and tasted just the aroma and the very smallest of licks with the tip of his tongue. However strange, it was indeed good, and he quickly drank the rest, and handed the cup back. "Alright, quite good. Now give in. What is it?"

"Are you ready?" Apraxia teased.

"Yes," Perfidious droned.

"Are you sure?" he continued.

"Positive."

Apraxia went on to describe how he had been gathering weapons and equipment when he stumbled upon a cracked canister. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that it was some sort of incendiary device whose fuel was a citrus-based concentrate, along with other obviously, highly toxic substances. If a fairy were to drink that substance, they would become violently ill and their insides would instantly be transformed into goo. But, with a little bit of this, and a dash of that (he didn't say what 'this' or 'that' were), and simmered in a secret nectar, it might make a lovely martini.

Perfidious gasped. Even Ubermensch gasped, though he had not taken a drink. "You're saying I'm drinking an enemy grenade?" Perfidious stuttered, and started to gag and wiped his tongue with the palm of his hand.

"Napalm," Apraxia corrected. He winked at Ubermensch, and added, "Ancillary note to fairy combat: grenades are and explosive, napalm is an incendiary." He hiccupped and sat back.

Ubermensch smirked and then laughed. "Good. I'll have a go."

"You sure?" Alacrity asked, obvious concern in her voice and eyes.

"No," Ubermensch admitted, but reached for the teapot and poured a fair amount into the cup.

"Uh," Apraxia said, but Ubermensch had already downed the cup. "It's extremely potent."

Ubermensch smacked his lips. "That is a fair brew, I must admit." He opened the lid to the teapot, and remarked, "Not very much left."

Apraxia poured the remainder into the cup and handed it to Ubermensch. "I'll go make more," and he dashed off into the night.

Ubermensch offered the cup to Alacrity, who still was uncertain, and Claptrap just shook her head, so he drank that cup too.

Soon, Ubermensch understood what Apraxia had been trying to say. Or, did Apraxia warn him? He wasn't sure. But the evening seemed quite bright beneath the full moon, and his mind and body were at complete ease.

Perfidious, though, noticed a familiar pitter-patter, so stood, and started to walk towards the embankment.

When Apraxia returned, lucky he returned at all being in quite a delirious state, he was barely able to sit down without falling down. He set down the teapot, plus several other items that must have been used for his napalm martini mixer kit. "What did I miss?" His eyes wandered about, and he remarked off-handedly, "I do believe this may be mushroocinogenic."

Alacrity was already laughing, and corrected him, "hallucinogenic. Let's see, Claptrap fell asleep to the sound of Scarcity snoring, Perfidious has been standing there, muttering incessantly about the how nice the color gray complements a bristly tail, and Ubermensch, well," she blushed and put her hand to her mouth.

Apraxia poured a cup of the newly brewed mix and offered some to Alacrity.

"Why not," she said, accepting the cup. She sampled it and found the flavor quite good. There was not very much in the cup, though, so she passed it back to Apraxia. "A bit more?"

Apraxia raised his eyebrow, though poured another shot into the teacup.

Alacrity drank that too, then set the cup down. "Ubermensch has been giving me a very entertaining lesson in both the human and fairy histories of combat, and how females play a part."

Apraxia fetched the cup from where Alacrity had set it, and poured another drink for himself. "Really? Sounds, um, dull." He nodded apologetically to Ubermensch.

Alacrity laughed, and now knew her own laughter had been superceded by the napalm martini's own brand of inebriated laughter. It was that fast. "Oh, it's pretty good."

Then, Ubermensch stood, and struck a barbaric pose, which looked rather ridiculous to Alacrity and Apraxia as he was naked and his posture being slightly skewed form his swaying. "It is good. It is the eternal struggle of all races. The struggle to seek harmony with oneself and their surroundings, the penultimate pursuit of finding placement in society and history, and finally, the realization that, for mortals, none of that really matters. And for immortals, such as ourselves, none of that can matter."

"And the females in combat?" Apraxia giggled, prompting him.

"That," he stated, then sat back down and shook his head to clear. "That is the paradox."

As Ubermensch rambled in his newly discovered, inebriated philosophy, Alacrity began to see wisps of the forgotten, not from the martini, but from the whole affair. The lost romance Ubermensch and her seemed to dance about, even the ancient way of fairy life, was, "The paradox," Ubermensch said, breaking her concentration.

"The paradox," he said a third time.

"How so?" Alacrity asked, laying down on her side and gazing up at Ubermensch.

"Because females don't really want to be in combat, but males have so emasculated their culture around the fellowship and reward of being in combat, that it is impossible for females to achieve the penultimate pursuit of placement in society, without which, they cannot seek the harmony with oneself and their surroundings. And, because females elect to subscribe to the latter, they prevent themselves from ever finding the former."

Alacrity smirked. "Sure. And what about men," she said, now becoming quite irritated with Ubermensch's position. But, his response startled her.

"For the most part, males ignore the first, and simply concentrate on the second, which is a waste of time and resources."

"You, mister super soldier, are saying combat is a waste of time?" Apraxia asked.

Ubermensch nodded. "Before all of this, before the enemy came, before the humans infected every conceivable corner of the world, all we cared about was just being happy and carefree. But once our world was jarred by human intervention, we were affected. Affected," he said again to emphasize his point. "And now we find ourselves mired in human issues such as combat." He looked at Alacrity with some dismay. "We have found ourselves subjected to human dispositions and overly-orthodox opinions." Then, he lay down and shut his eyes.

"He's gone," Apraxia laughed, though sleep sounded good, so he lay down as well, and shut his eyes.

"You are out of it," Alacrity whispered sweetly to Ubermensch.

"All I wanted," he murmured, "was to kiss you."

Alacrity smiled and as she thought he had fallen asleep, leaned over him and placed a light kiss on his lips. "So now you've kissed me," she whispered sweetly. But, she sat back when his lips moved, and he whispered, "To make love to you." Then, he was asleep.

It wasn't just the suggestion, or the timing. It was both, and it was more. What had happened over the last couple hundred years? Was it really so long ago that they would venture far off into the woods and spend the evening making love atop a blossomed flower? There hadn't been rifles or armor, or such hesitation in Ubermensch's affections. Or hers.

Disturbed by the thought, she stood and walked towards the brook. The water was glassy in the full moon, and she lay in a patch of moss by the water's edge. All around her, the forest lay still and in the ambient glow of the moon, she felt peaceful fulfillment.

Alacrity extended her arm across the moss and dipped a cupped hand into the cool water. She brought the water-filled hand back to her side and let it drip through her fingers onto her chest, creating a tiny silver vein that snaked down her side and over her clotted wound. After three more handfuls of water, she raised her shoulders up, resting back against her elbows, and looked over the sinuous curves and form of her body.

In the moon drenched evening, Ubermensch's pale skin had not reflected the light well so as to highlight his features. But her mocha skin made her features look more distinct in the soft pallor, and her body added a complimentary hue to the light brown and green moss. She withdrew her wings from under her own weight and extended them, now able to see her full feminine, fairy form. She could see the moss through her near-invisible wings, except for the patches of blue and fuchsia near her wingtips.

Had there been no fairy enemy, she would have taken flight and soared across the top of the meadow grass, gaily dancing with the tall grass blades. Time would have been spent to find the part of the meadow that best suited her skin and manners. So she spent some time eyeing the meadow and imagining how she once would have tried to find her place in that meadow, instead of merely laying upon the moss.

"Alacrity?" a voice asked softly so as not to startle her. It was Perfidious.

She turned her head towards Perfidious, though didn't rise.

"I just wanted to say that you are perfect where you are laying on the moss."

She arched an eyebrow. "And I was thinking how I might be better atop the meadow grass."

Perfidious walked closer, and sat at the edge of the moss. He motioned towards several bright orbs that hovered and winked above the grass. "Fireflies beat you to it. But you seem to have found your place right there on the moss."

"How so?" she asked, now more attentive to his tone, as she was always cautious with any compliment from him.

"This night is still, and it has been far too long since I've seen you being just a fairy. You have such a remarkable form and coloration." He smiled his best, attractive smile, which was also quite slick and oily.

"You're just inebriated," she said.

"We're not human," Perfidious remarked.

"And we haven't been acting like fairies," she retorted.

"Some of us haven't, anyway."

"Fairies aren't sleazy, humans are," she said with accusation.

"And fairies don't have enemies, but humans do," he replied.

"Then who have I been fighting?" she asked, sitting up. Her wings dipped and lay upon the moss.

"That's a good question. Did you actually see any faces, or get hit by any enemy fire?" He crossed his legs and leaned forward, peering with expectation for the answer.

Alacrity pointed to her naked flank, and her wound. "How is that for getting hit?"

Perfidious shrugged. "Did an enemy attack really pierce your armor and leave that," he pointed at the neat, dark red line along her ribs. And though on the verge of another comment, he paused.

"Yes?" she asked expectantly. "If not a wound, what then?" Alacrity folder her knees up against her chest and set her chin upon the pedestal. "What are inferring?"

Now, Perfidious felt exposed and uncertain. "Where are the other fairies?" he asked.

Alacrity let out a tight laugh. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I asked. Where is Glitterati, and Mandrill, or Calamity?" Next, he spoke softer. "You're the only female fairy I can remember seeing in a long time."

"That's ridiculous," she said. "Claptrap and Scarcity are just over there," and she pointed towards the encampment.

"Even those two, and Apraxia too, don't seem, well, like us." He admitted.

"They're just being fairies," she said defensively.

"Right." He sat up an his knees, and was now closer to her. "So, why are they 'just being fairies', but we can't be?"

Alacrity smirked, and then saw where Perfidious was taking the conversation. "So, you are wondering why we," she motioned to the two of them, "can't just be fairies too?"

"And Ubermensch," Perfidious added quickly.

She held up her hands, "Sorry, I just don't feel like acting like a fairy with you right now," she said with a slightly irritated, but apologetic, tone.

Perfidious sat back. "Alright," he said after a period of silence. "How about a bargain."

"I'm listening," she said skeptically.

"Either your wound is real, and if it is, I'll go back to the camp and leave you alone. Or, it's not, and," but there he paused, finally adding, "And if it's not, I'll stay here and we'll act like fairies, even if neither one of us really feels like a fairy."

She smirked, "Fine. It's a wound. Sorry, and sleep well."

But, Perfidious reached out and set his palm on ribs, his thumb cupping the curve of her breast.

"Perfidious!" she said and pulled back. As she did, his fingers wiped away the red that was her wound, leaving no visible trace of any enemy attack.

He withdrew his hand, and looked at the red on his fingers. "My guess," he tasted it, then smirked, "dried berry."

"Well I certainly never agreed to your little game," she said.

"Alacrity," he said with earnest, and stood. "Give it a rest, would you? Sex isn't the only thing on my mind. And, don't you think there are inconsistencies that really aught to be investigated?"

"Well, if its not sex, what is it?"

"I just want to be a fairy again," he admitted, his face and voice saddening. But, he then stood and looked at her with a degree of disgust. "What is it with you and sex, anyway? You seem to equate it with human copulation, but I certainly remember making love," and he stressed the last two words, "as a fairy being completely different."

"Whatever," she sung disdainfully.

He shook his head and turned to leave. As he strode away, he commented without stopping or looking back, "When you and Ubermensch decide to have sex, let me know. It will be fun to watch you two rediscover the fact that fairies don't have that kind of equipment."

Alacrity stared at Perfidious' back, and then looked down at her body. Had she been acting human with her prudishness? What had happened to Perfidious that night that he now suddenly speaks of truths she must have forgotten or ignored? Nevertheless, he had been correct. Below her waist she saw only smooth mocha skin, and nothing else.