Author's Note:
This is my first story for Lit and I hope you like it. It' started as a stand-alone, then grew into something more. I'm sorry there's no actual sex in this chapter, in many ways this is an introduction, the frame of a much larger story and if some of it just doesn't quite make sense yet, that's okay, all will come clear in time.
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Halloween has come to New Orleans, though it hardly brings with it even half of the color and celebration of Mardi Gras, it still fills the streets and bars with costumes and drunkards alike. But Joe's House of Blues is a smokey, local place, not a gaudy tourist attraction, and with that comes a subtler, if not always friendlier air, even on a holiday such as this. Which isn't to say that people aren't in costume, but they're less gaudy and more common from the slutty witch in the corner nursing a bourbon to the man at the end of the bar in the top hat dressed as Baron Samedi himself and on the stage, which sometimes hosts live bands and tonight hosts a drunken karaoke-fest, is a lithe woman in a black unitard and cat ears belting out Waiting on a Hero like a champion.
Amidst the calm bustle of the friendly bar is Sharyn, a girl who both seems to fit and stands out. Leather pants hug narrow hips and bring out the tone of lean muscle in her legs, disappearing into knee-high leather boots with a line of silver buckles up along the outside of each boot. Her torso is covered by a loose puffy shirt of off-white covered over by a black corset with red brocade, doing what is to be done to emphasize her average breasts and give her otherwise boyish form a more feminine set of curves. Where her body lacks natural femininity, her face has a simple beauty to it from gentle features to piercing green eyes and a cascade of red and auburn ringlets that frame her face and fall around her shoulders, shifting naturally as she alternately sips from a glass of bourbon and glances at the door..
The fact that she's waiting for someone is all too obvious and every time the door opens, there's a flare of hope followed by the bitter flash of disappointment when it's not him. As a wizard and an apprentice, she rarely gets to come home to New Orleans and it was years ago that he gave in to his Faerie nature and joined the timeless ranks of his kin in the Autumn Court of the Sidhe. Love transcends many things, but it doesn't stop them from being kept apart. She has her studies and he has his duties to his lord and his Kings. There are only a few days in the year where they might meet and be together for just one night and one of those is his birthday: Halloween.
She's already on her second bourbon, beginning to think that perhaps he's forgotten her. That this year they won't be able to be together. Or worse things, things barely imaginable when you date an immortal, but possible. Even powerful Fae can die under the right circumstances. She dares to allow herself to look at the stage as catwoman is replaced by a man in a superman costume that only goes to show that he is far too thin to be the man of steel and the strains of some rap hip-hop travesty, which only drives Sharyn further into her drink before making a disgusted face, trying so hard not to gag at the choice of music. It's the joys of karaoke right there.
It's then that she hears him, his voice with the smoothness of honey and the richness of the spiced wine of the Autumn Court they both favor coming from right behind her, "It is a shame what they allow people to use to embarrass themselves, isn't it?" It's then that the rich scent of allspice and cinnamon that usually precedes his presence hits her full force and for a moment her knees go weak, the music fading to the background as she turns to find his gorgeous face just there framed, as always, by long hair in the reds, golds, and oranges of autumn along with his piercing amber eyes. "Merrin!"
It came out louder than she intended and a few heads turn to stare as she throws her arms around him, burying her face in his neck and inhaling that deep, heady scent that is uniquely him. And pumpkin pie, but mostly him. The gentle strength of his arms wrapping around her waist draws her attention to his dress and she chuckles softly, "You wore a puffy shirt just for me?"
Puffy indeed. He's in a loose shirt of bright Halloween orange with a loose, open neck that shows off the top of the tree 'tattoo' that covers his whole chest, currently cast in the brilliant tones of autumn, the tiny leaves seeming to blow and shift in an invisible wind. His legs, like hers, are encased in black leather pants so tight they almost seem to be painted on and she can't stop herself from letting her fingers run over the taught material as if she could feel the flesh beneath, though she freezes when he murmurs, his tone sliding into a more severe register, "I did. But you seem to have forgotten to wear a skirt."
