Rischa led him by the hand to the window, and indeed there was Dean, sauntering among the home trees with casual steps that Jacob knew were actually watched carefully. When visiting a village of people who considered four inches pretty tall, you had to be cautious.
And Jacob was understanding why. Perspective might as well have slapped him in the face. Even off the ground, seeing Dean at this scale was intimidating at first. Jacob knew he could trust the guy with his life without question, but there was a small spark in him that said big was danger. A simple glance at Dean was enough to see the power a human could hold over sprite-sized folk.
At one point, sitting casually in the living room, the sprites all seemed to simultaneously notice the shiny metal zipper keeping his black hoodie (an article of clothing that seemed to provide endless entertainment to the nestlings when he was the right size, always hiding leaves and seeds in the hood or pockets) closed. Bowman had seemed so unduly fascinated by the simple workings of it, but then again Jacob always reminded himself that the sprites were so isolated from humans that Bowman didn’t even know what they were when he met them.
They’d all wanted to try the zipper, just to see it in action on their scale. Jacob grinned faintly as Rischa zipped up his hoodie while he crouched for her. Her golden eyes were full of wonder at the “human magic."
Bowman – Lost. Originally from this post, I was inspired by this prompt to go a little further than with the other little drabbles. This prompt will end up being canon to the Brothers Lost supernatural GT au co-written with @nightmares06. It will follow what’s been going on with Bowman Leafwing while Sam, Dean, and Jacob are traveling around saving people and hunting things.
It’s not finished yet, but I have a sneak peek to get everyone started.
Glancing down, Bowman reflected that maybe his luck wasn’t so terrible after all. Stuck hanging in the air, no matter how uncomfortable, was better than stuck lying on the ground.
Down there, any predator could stalk up to him, vicious claws caressing the dirt, and snap him up. Bowman was more helpless than he had ever been, and he still didn’t understand just what had happened.
He wasn’t supposed to venture too far in his patrols. He was meant to fly in a radius around the village at the forest of Wellwood’s center, watching for danger. All he had to do was warn everyone of anything he saw and he was doing his job right. Even so, flying for long days exhilarated Bowman like nothing else, and so he took what excuses he could. Like any rebellious wood sprite, he’d always bent rules.
You BREAK the rules, Bowman, not just bend them! a voice piped up in his memory, sweet and colored with a laugh. Rischa, his young cousin, would surely scold him for a week once he got out of this one.
He’d flown farther than he ever dared before. When he found a tall wall made of metal grids, he had to explore beyond it. He convinced himself it was for the good of the village.
Now he was stuck in some mess of discarded rope. It was as embarrassing as it was uncomfortable.
This is Fairy Tales canon. Bowman is newly 19, and it takes place the winter after the events of Bowman of Wellwood.
Reading Time: ~5-10 minutes
The main room was cozy and warm. Candara had Prayed all morning to bring warmth coursing through their home branch, and the Earth Spirit’s magic granted them a warmer home despite the bitter cold outside. The breeze leaking through the shaded windows promised that stepping outside would require several layers.
Bowman was restless as he was every winter, but he didn’t feel like going out just yet. In the deadest part of winter, his wings twitched with shivers and the desire to fly both. Today, he remained inside with the others to avoid that chill.
Candara and Larxe sat together on one of the cushioned benches in the room, their wings around each other like leafy green cloaks. Candara rested her head on Larxe’s chest, tired out after Praying for so much warmth. Bowman sat by the wall and let the heat creep up his spine and into his folded wings. His right leg was drawn up, but the left one stretched out in front of him. He stared at it absently.
Rischa wandered over to him to sit down at his side. Bowman lifted an arm so his young cousin could snuggle closer to him with her blanket over her shoulders. “It’s hurting again,” she noted, glancing at Bowman’s leg.
It had healed months ago. And yet, sometimes, Bowman’s knee would have phantom pains in it from when he’d injured it. Those pains, Cerul had told him, would never go away completely. Too much strain on it, or even sometimes just the cold that came with the snowy weather would make the old wound site tender and sore.
He would always have the reminder of a human hand closing over his body and slowly applying pressure until he couldn’t even scream for mercy.
Rischa suddenly freed her arms from her blanket to hug Bowman around his waist and he jolted right out of his thoughts. He looked down at her in surprise and noted that her eyes were shut tight and she didn’t look ready to let go anytime soon. He smiled faintly and reached down to pull her blanket back up over her.
“It’s only a little, Birdie,” he told her in a hushed voice.
She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. Bowman never was any good at hiding things from Rischa. Ever since she’d realized her gift of the Voice, he could hide even less. She could read his heart like curling script was written on his wings. She knew where his thoughts inevitably went when his knee flared up. She knew the fear and pain and despair that he remembered, like echoes of a thunderstorm. She was only eight, and yet she already weathered the feelings of everyone around her.
Rischa reached up with one little hand to cup her palm on Bowman’s cheek. Her thumb brushed under his eye as if wiping away a tear that hadn’t been released, and she smiled at him. “I know. It’s okay, Bowman,” she told him.
He gave her a half smile, and his brow pinched with bemusement. “Look at you trying your best to freeze,” he said, pretending to scold her. He pulled her blanket up higher so it rested over her head and covered her golden eyes, getting a delighted giggle from her.
He opened one wing to wrap it around his young cousin and she snuggled closer to him. They took in the warmth together, and the cold couldn’t get to them. Bowman hummed quietly, a sound that Rischa could hear resounding in his chest. Even with the responsibility settled on her by her gift, Bowman would let her be a child for as long as he could.
Bowman couldn’t sleep, and usually when he couldn’t sleep, that meant his wings twitched and he tossed and turned for hours before giving in. Tonight, he wasn’t going to do that. He lay in his bed and almost glared at his window and the serene light that broke through it. The moon cast its cool, sharp glow upon the village of Wellwood in shining bars that mimicked the golden light of its sky sibling.
Moonlight might not be quite as refreshing as the sunlight, but Bowman knew that flying through it was just as peaceful, just as liberating.
He sat up in his bed, the oval-shaped basin in his room, and stretched his wings carefully. Why deny himself a little flying just because his aunt and uncle told him it was too dangerous to go out at night? Their warnings had never been frightening enough to keep him from it. He had to practice to be the best in the village one day, after all.
Ah, man. Those shorts kill me as much as you when @neonthewrite shows them to me before posting! I might have cried at parts. I’m going to be adding them to the Brothers Together page on the BA tumblr, so there are easy links to find them, once I have some time to fiddle with websites.
Currenly, An Appreciation for the Sun is our only story between Birdie and Cas. Of course, if we ever get inspired, the sky’s the limit for all things spn and gt!
For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.
“Every creature has its place,” Castiel said. “A hummingbird will never grow the size of a bear.” He regarded the tiny sprite with unblinking curiosity. Such a fragile creature, yet so welcoming. Humans were suspicious by nature, even of each other. Not once had Castiel managed to truly gain Dean Winchester’s confidence. Every move he made just seemed to make the hunter more wary of him.
“Are there more like you?” Castiel asked. “In other places?” He had to wonder if he should warn his brothers and sisters of these peaceful people. Angels could be heavy handed on occasion.
Rischa smiled and nodded, thinking nothing of revealing others to Castiel. She got a strong feeling that she could trust him not to bring them to harm. It could have been simple intuition, or her growing used to the readings she could get from him. It could even be the Spirit Herself telling her something about him, but Rischa trusted him.
For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.
Rischa had to clap her hands over her mouth to avoid letting out a cry of alarm. He can’t see me … can he? Her eyes were fixed on the giant’s face above. She still couldn’t make sense of anything she read from him. All she knew was that he’d whirled and turned his striking blue eyes right towards her.
She didn’t know what to do. Rischa had only ever met a few humans before. One was nice to her without question. Another had nearly crushed her in his hand. This man could do either.
Rischa was all alone in her decision. She had stupidly thought she’d be fine coming out here on her own. If things turned out okay, she could laugh it off with Bowman later. But if they didn’t and this giant wasn’t one of the good ones, anything could happen. He could try to take her away.
Rischa kept her hands over her mouth to hide the sound of her frightened breathing, and remained as still as she could among the flowers. She couldn’t risk flying away; she wasn’t fast enough.
For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.
Out here, among the trees and flowers and the wind, all on her own, Rischa thought she might have a better understanding for why Bowman couldn’t stop flying. He didn’t practice his Prayers very much, but flying filled him with the same feeling, Rischa just knew it.
The girl wove her way among the flowers, picking up petals or leaves here and there to brush a hand along the soft foliage. The sweet scent attracted bees and butterflies above, and Rischa watched the insects drift from flower to flower. They were happy for the nice day, too.
Her shoes pressed lightly in the moss as she wended her way through the flowerbed, and eventually Rischa began to hum again. Her singing voice was strong like her mother’s, clear like a bell and living up to the Songbird name.
A directionless tune floated past her lips and Rischa danced softly among the flowers, letting her connection to the Lady of Life open like she was welcoming a friend. In truth, she was. Her braids, intertwined with supple green blades of grass, flew in the air with every turn as she frolicked.
For this prompt, I enlisted the help of @nightmares06 for the role of Castiel. I’m not very good at writing characters that I didn’t create, but this prompt was so cute that I couldn’t just dismiss it out of hand. (X)
The sun neared its zenith when Rischa managed to excuse herself from lessons. While she stretched her wings luxuriously on the wide balcony of the cottonwood tree, with bars of sunlight bathing the village in light in front of her, Rischa got a notion in her head. She knew without a doubt that if Bowman were there, he’d have the same feeling about the day.
It was a good day for flying.
Bowman was probably already doing exactly that somewhere out in the woods. Rischa stepped over the side of the balcony, her dainty wings spreading wide to carry her on the breeze. She decided she would explore, too, like Bowman did.
She was twelve, now, after all. Rischa might not fly much farther than the usual patrol distance most of the time, but her cousin knew the woods better than anyone. He hadn’t mentioned any dangers nearby.
After many days spent honing her gifts in the cottonwood with the ever wise and patient Cerul, everything blended together. Rischa drifted past the pine tree where she lived with her mama and daddy and Bowman, crossing over the stream and out into the woods. She hummed to herself as she banked upwards, cutting through sunbeams here and there as she set her sights on exploring.
Bowman does this all the time and he’s always happy when he returns, she thought. Time to see what the fuss is about.
Brothers Apart 