The Ancients and the Angels: Celestials

by M.C. O'Neill

  ***

  “Ping! Tangerine mocha! Now!”

  “Yes, Maiden Venn’lith. As you command,” the sea elf bowed away toward the studio’s canteen to satisfy her demand.

  “Gods, I look like a plowshare with these!” the Xochian maiden lamented as she poked at the three black mega-plaits poking out of the crown of her head. The folksy laurel wreath wrapped around her temples irritated her skin and she threw it clear across the soundstage without care of where it landed. “What was that made of? Poison ivy?”

  Cadreth offered his long hand to escort her away from the lights of the stage. “I thought you looked wonderful! So natural. You seriously had nothing to worry about. I was watching the whole thing through the monitors and, I must say, you will have the kids flocking to those centers.”

  “Really?” she felt a pang of unwelcome regret asking for this lad’s approval as she had always considered that she held the upper hand with the males. “Well, I’ll just have to see that for myself,” she saved with a brusque sneer.

  “You won’t be disappointed, I assure you,” he beamed a smile that she found somewhat endearing. It was a feeling that she could say was, in truth, a rarity for her.

  To have such warm sentiments for a lad, or anyone for that matter, was a terrible combination which made for a toasty unknown. It all made her feel uncomfortable and weak as such a dependency made one vulnerable to all varieties of treachery. She had seen what caring for someone in any capacity could do, and she had used that care against many other maidens at school in her time. Whenever she had swooped-in under a rival’s lulled scanners and played her loved one against her, the pain of her victim was immense and her sociability was never left unscathed. The Xochian supposed that if she allowed herself to get closer to this lad, she would run the risk of experiencing that loss for herself. From what she had observed of others in her sixteen years, the aftershock of that pain was quite terrible, or so it seemed.

  It was all just an adolescent infatuation, she figured. Never before had Venn’lith laid eyes on such a beautiful creature. If Hyrax Arcovis was considered a weak ‘10’ at school, then Cadreth was at least a ’21.’ In the short two days she had known his acquaintance, maidens all around her were turning their heads and drooling like dire wolves upon seeing her towering escort. They didn’t even bother with the playful giggling or snickering as they were all too entranced by his commanding presence. Even little elflings were transfixed on his form as they realized their first crush. Perhaps it was all quite natural and she should just accept it. He was the ultimate specimen of beauty and a maiden such as her deserved him.

  “Thank you, Cadreth,” she relented without realizing it. She turned her head to one of the long studio mirrors banking a back wall and saw that she was still grinning. A cheesy grin to be exact and she grit her teeth in self-loathing the very instant she caught herself.

  “You really did look amazing on the screen, Lith. I may call you ‘Lith?” Quay’liss Dalian interrupted the couple. The lady was donning the exact same hairdo (different color) Venn’lith had worn to last night’s royal address and this daring attempt to pose made her blood boil.

  Ever since moving to Atlantis, Venn’lith prayed she would never have to meet that lady in person. She had deemed her an annoying sycophant even back when she could barely understand the Atlantean tongue. To be forced to deal with her presence in the flesh was excruciating, but it was made all the worse while she was waiting for her coffee.

  “No,” Venn’lith answered her point-blank. She tilted her nose in the air with artful grace. The newsie appeared to wear a genuine veil of disappointment, as if she didn’t know how to respond to that unexpected answer.

  “Well, Prime Warden, you did it!” Prince Stolas pushed the befuddled Dalian aside, much to Venn’lith’s blessing. “Your father and I saw it all backstage. I do think we have a winner.”

  The Aldebarans were quite an interesting sort. Not only did they don impeccable fashion that was all but uncraftable on the planet Earth, they held themselves with a grace and style that not even Venn’lith’s father’s entourage could match. Of course, she surmised, that these beings she was meeting were the elite; the crème de la crème of their system. Since these representatives were the impressive example of their civilization, the maiden guessed that even their toilet cleaners were preferable to some of Earth’s “best.” The more she knew these people, the more she wished she were moving to their home planet instead of this new one. After all, new scenery was no big shakes if she had to be surrounded by the same bleating idiots as always.

  Prince Stolas was like a wise old owl in the shape of a winged elf. Venn’lith thought of him as a wonderful warm character who had stepped right out of an ancient faerie tale. He represented to her the archetype of the sage who assisted the featured maiden or the hero with arcane knowledge that aided them in defeating the ferocious dragon or the evil king, thus saving the nation from tyranny.

  High President Glasya was so much fun. When Venn’lith was younger, she went through a phase where she had wished for an older sister. If anyone could fill that role, it was her. Her clothes were the best. All wiry and spindly, yet roiling with animated blacks and reds. She didn’t wear much either, as the revealing look was more her forte, but less could prove to be more. Under usual circumstances, the maiden argued with herself that she would be jealous of such a person, but Glasya had such an elegant and confident way of containing her poise, that Venn’lith found herself, in all honesty, looking up to her. It was no surprise that such a one as her would be leading this valiant effort. All she really wanted to do was lay out on the blinding beaches of Xo’chi with this lady and attempt to get her amazing tan.

  Although she had what was certain to be the best hairdo of the bunch, Venn’lith felt a bit nervous around Glasya’s brooding majordomo; the one who was known as Bastet or something like that. For a moment the night before, the Xochian met this lady’s eyes and got one of the coldest chills she had ever experienced and she was not accustomed to avoiding a gaze from anyone. The only word for this sensation she felt was “murderous.” This Bastet had, at one point in her existence, killed, and she was sure of it. Every now and then when her father would get heated over some trite issue, which was almost always about money, the maiden had seen a tiny glimpse of the same look, but with Bastet, it was relentless. That one was dangerous to the core somehow and Venn’lith was grateful that Glasya held her in check.

  Two new members of the Aldebaran contingent arrived to the studio not long after Glasya and her company. Neither was present at the royal address last night and Venn’lith had yet to be introduced. One of the pair was definitely an Aldebaran as could be seen by her brown, solid wings. She had kinky short hair, much of the same coppery hue of her president, but her dress was not of the same glamour and alien materials as her kin. She appeared to have thrown on whatever was available to her that morning and it was unmistakable in its earthbound fashion. The other lady speaking to her in hushed tones had no wings and was most likely a run-of-the-mill elfmaid. Her blond hair was cut in an unfashionable bob and her clothes were quite unbecoming. There was something nagging about that one, Venn’lith thought as she could have sworn that she had met her somewhere before.

  “Thank you, Prince Stolas. I must be honest, I think the agrarian look to my hair was a bit much, don’t you think?” Venn’lith was already dropping the ropey buns off her head as full streams of her black hair tussled over her face, which was decorated with folksy modesty.

  “No! Not at all!” he braved to brush a thick lock from out of her eyes as an affectionate gesture. “That look allows you to relate to the lowest common denominator. It’s so important that everyone be prepared in six-month’s-time to get aboard the arks and we need to send that message out to everyone. Actually, it was the perfect look to deliver that message and you did it splendidly. We all knew you could do it, but you shined out more than we expected. Well done, Mistress Venn’lith. Eh, excuse
me. I mean, Prime Warden!”

  It was all logical. Venn’lith understood the kind old prince’s philosophy, but if she were the one running this exodus, only a select few would be allowed to enjoy the fruits of the new homeworld. There were well over a billion elves populating the globe at that moment, and it was her philosophy that few of them deserved to be there. Why these Aldebarans would want to save every one of these groveling people was somewhat beyond her. Would even criminals like that idiotic Travius be let aboard? In all seriousness, she wondered what purpose he would ever serve. That old goof was nothing but a maniacal, soothsaying, failed assassin. What value could such a dreadful person have on the new planet, or their current one for that matter?

  “Well, as long as I still looked good in that close-up, I’m happy,” Venn’lith relented.

  “Here is your order, Maiden Venn’lith,” Ping presented the chocolaty drink with her usual sense of humble duty. As always, it was like she had emerged from thin air. None of the Aldebarans in her present company really seemed to mind Ping’s gestures of servitude and the Xochian knew that she needed to be on her best behavior whilst in their ear- and eyeshot. Bullying the help was just unbecoming as well as classless, and she wanted to make sure that she maintained a good impression with her royal guests.

  “May I be of any service to any of you?” Ping offered the Aldebarans in her accented Atlantean.

  “I’ll be fine, but thank you, Lady Ping,” Stolas made a polite bow.

  “As am I,” Cadreth joined the old prince with a smile. Venn’lith noticed that Ping was about the only female that she had observed in Cadreth’s presence that didn’t seem to be taken aback by his ungodly, wonderful image. Whatever the reason for that, it didn’t matter. Ping was rather stupid, as far as the sun elf considered, but she was quite impressed by the Aldebaran’s tolerance of her lowly intrusion. Venn’lith made a mental note to treat the help with a little more courtesy, unless it was during a time when she was enraged about something or other.