It is the modern era. Faerie folk and other such beings are considered nothing but old stories. But, sometimes, stories are real. She was born with the gift to see the supernatural for who they were even if they hid amongst the normal modern world. She could understand their languages no matter how old or obscure it was. And read their words. From the most ancient to the most modern. And yet, as she grew older, she learned this was something handed down from mother to daughter for generations. An ability now quite rare as most of those that once had those gifts were often destroyed or otherwise came to harm long before they could bear children. Her family being one of the last. -- Anon Guest
There are places where a certain kind of person can glimpse into the Mythical. Some call them crazy. Some presume they're on drugs. In recent centuries past, they called them witch and killed them without mercy. Those with more than a modicum of sense learned to pay lip service to the dominant way of thought, and whisper to their gifted young to not talk about that with anyone who wasn't safe.
Of course I won't tell you how to find them. There's still people who will kill them for what they do. As for what they do? They stop incursions. They solve problems. They keep the peace. There are, after all, other worlds that others can't see. Without those who can glympse, the world would be utter chaos. Well. More utter chaos than what's normal for these days.
You wouldn't expect to find a fae infestation in Bumblefudge[1], Kansas. Melanie blamed those "cutesy" fairy doors people added into their gardens for the "aesthetic". Some people just weren't careful about who they invited. Since this was an especially dry region, they had put it into a rock garden with some succulents. A blessed rock garden, for criminy's sake! All you needed was the capstones and you had a standing circle! Right on the ley lines, too. Urgh. Karens were so gosh-darn fudging moronic sometimes.
Melanie let this particular Karen blither on about her string of bad luck and how her crystal collection keeps being rearranged. She was listening with half an ear, part of her mind working on how to phrase this so that the idiot pseudo-wicca live-laugh-love vegan-moonmelon Karen could understand. One thing was for certain, if Melanie said "fairy", this dipwonkle would think it's delightful.
Crystals. Yikes. This was going to take more than a few calligraphic wards and evil-eye medallions to get rid of.
"Please. Give me half an hour to commune with the local spirits," said Melanie. "I'll need an offering they will prefer. Honey-cake and cream. A shot of rum, too."
"I don't have any of that in my house," said Karen. "Those are pollutants."
"These are wicked spirits playing with you," said Melanie. "You need to tempt them to talk to them."
Karen made a noise of disgust and got in her air-conditioned land-barge SUV to go to the corner store and get the things. She took her kids, Maqualyeigh and Laughlynn with her, thus leaving Melanie to find all the other horseapples this Karen had decided to scatter around her territory.
Stained glass fairies, unicorns, buddha heads, and fake dream catchers. Tone-deaf ignorance and anti-science fake mysticism. This idiot might as well open a hellmouth with one ill-chosen word.
While she was gone, Melanie busted out her invisible paint and got to every surface she could. From the heart of the house outwards, warding every ingress and egress from non-mortal influences and the undead alike. Repelling them from the dwelling. There was a veritable cloud of malevolence swirling around the house by the time Melanie was done with the roof.
Karen handed over the stuff like there was a rotting corpse in the shopping bag.
"Thank you," Melanie said, "I've temporarily cleared the evil influences out of your house, so you'll be safe in there for now. I'll see what I can do about the rest of your property."
Rum mixed with cream, in a recyclable bowl. Honey cake right by the door. Melanie willingly shed the scales from her eyes and... glympsed...
It was an outright fae orgy. They were loving this place. Melanie cracked her knuckles to announce her presence. "All right you little bastards," she said. "You're now operating under the hospitality rules. You're going to explain your plans to me, your new host."
One of the fae emerged from the middle of the cake, mouth full and smeared with rum-imbued cream. "Oh no," it groaned. "You again..."
Yup. Party time was officially over. Now it was all down to how much dignity she would let them leave with. After that, it was all the correct amount of bull-plops to get Karen to reduce or outright eliminate some of the more disgusting/dangerous elements of her aesthetic.
[1] It's best not to utter a curse where the walls are thin, they have a way of becoming real.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Korvit]
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