A: Y-you bastard! You played us like a damn fiddle!
B: oh please, Fiddles are intricate instruments that take years to master.
I played you like the kazoo you are. -- Anon Guest
[AN: I've seen variants of this exchange where the kazoo is described as "cheap" too]
I believed it was for the greater good. I thought the things I was doing were necessary evils. Minor harms in the great, grander scheme. I could only see small fragments of the bigger picture.
My obedience gave me rewards. Protests gained barbed criticism.
It was almost as if ze knew... I'd spent my whole life being useful and helpful, just to get crumbs. Then again, what other kind of person willingly signs up to be a Warlock?
Faerie Goodmothers are always nice in the stories. Or. In this case, a Faerie Goodparent.
My fault for being simple. My fault for being gullible. My fault for being too nice, or spineless, or... Or it's my fault for taking a nap under a Faerie Ring. I was five, when I met hir. I wanted someone kind in my life, and a Faerie Goodparent seemed like a dream come true.
I should have known, then.
I had, after all, only ever had nightmares.
It was nice, at first. Ze lured me in with gifts. A simple belt that would always keep me warm. A little box just big enough to hold one serving of food, and could give me a meal when I was hungry. A pillow that would keep unwanted dreams away.
Then came the requests.
Take this bottle and empty it into Lyle Draswicker's well.
Go to this place at noon and stand with your arms high. Catch what comes to your hands and then leave it at the doorstep of the nearest temple.
I have given you the image of a face. Find the person who matches it and gift them this ring.
Little things. Seemingly harmless things. Things I didn't understand at all. But I did understand that the things I did went sour after a while.
Ze always gave me gifts when I did well. Things. Power. And when I was old enough to begin to lust... an answer to that. Even if I wasn't quite ready to express any lust.
I was too stupid to understand. Too simple to give up on getting what I wanted. And if I was afraid, if I worried about things I did for hir turning sour... If I dared refuse, or even hesitate...
Ze knew exactly how to punish me.
Just enough so that I was still capable of doing hir bidding. Just enough to make me fear far, far worse.
And when I finally learned what ze was doing. When I finally figured it all out. When I gained the words necessary to talk about it...
Ze laughed.
Ze called me hir pet, and threatened me with a more obvious cage if I didn't sit and beg on hir command. And ze gave me this... a child's toy whistle. To remind me of how easily ze could play me.
I'm afraid to use it. I'm afraid to destroy it. I'm terrified of letting it leave my possession. And I don't know when ze will... come back.
Please, great Wizard Wraithvine. I don't want to be bad. I never wanted to be bad. I want to be good and do good things. I'm so knotted up inside I don't know light from night. Please.
They say... set a Fae against a Fae... and I hoped. Is Fae kindred just as good?
Please?
[Photo by Maksym Kaharlytskyi on Unsplash]
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