Three Twisted Knots

You know how it goes. The Faire ends, so you’re out of work. You go back to Faerie for a couple of nights and decide you really can’t stand all the revelry, mostly because nobody ever pays any attention to you, so you put yourself back on the elf-for-hire network as “available”.

You find yourself a nice place to stay in a broken down little city. Luckily, the city contains (aside from Live Nudes, downstairs from where you’re staying) the only thing that makes cities worthwhile for you:

Fried chicken. It does not matter how many farms you visit, how many birds you kill in the field, there is nothing like greasy city fried chicken, and you have to go to the dingiest, ugliest, most regulation-wary (and packed!) one that you can find. This is where you will find me when I am in a city. Eating shitloads of fried chicken. After the cheap mobile phone shop, of course, and the quick Internet connection, and the brief note to the Fixer.

Fried chicken eating also requires exercise after, natch. Which is why I’m still licking my fingers, even as I’m trying to think of the right dance to do on a dock across the water from a church where they would not like my kind at all. 

But then the text comes, so you walk away.

We need you to come and tag unicorns at the Lost Unicorn Gallery, the text says. Don’t worry: we’ll provide the appropriate clothing and a spotlighter. Everybody knows you have to tag unicorns at night, right? I actually didn’t, but I made my way to the venue, anyway.

Why they always pick me for art gallery shit and foofy parties and fiction readings and lectures, I will never understand. Someone once said it was because I don’t look threatening, but it’s not like I can add a foot to my height and grow a lumberjack beard. Well, OK, I could, but I’d rather not just to get work.

Anyway, the Lost Unicorn Gallery is this posh-but-comfy art gallery that hosts some really good shows. They’re between big exhibitions now, and we’re heading in to high summer, which is the best time to catch unicorns in their natural habitat. According to the dwarf who was coordinating the tagging, the Gallery does this every year, just to make sure they know what the actual unicorn population is on the grounds. Because, well— I guess they’d hate to Lose one! See what I did there? Oh, I crack myself up.

And you’re going to crack up when you see the getup they put me in for this gig.

They dressed me up like a fantasy novel cover, and they grabbed the one tame unicorn on the grounds so I could practice tagging.

“Why this outfit?” I asked.

The dwarf smirked. “Oh, you know. The unicorns. They have to be able to….” and everybody started laughing.

“Have to be able to what?” I asked. The guy with the spotlight backed up a few paces.

“They have to be able to smell you,” he said. There was more laughter.

….oh. So that’s why I got this job.

“Fine,” I said, in a voice I thought should stifle further conversation on the matter (it did). “What do I do next?”

“Turn around so he can see your face and get your scent properly,” said the dwarf.

“Then, gently reach out to touch, and the tag should apply magically.” It did.

It did, and a funny thing happened. I felt connected with the unicorn somehow, and I can tell you right now, unicorns do not like being thought of as “beasts”. I got quite a head-full about that one.

Fine, fine, we move on. This operation took the whole night.

I met a lot of unicorns, including this mother-and-daughter pair.

The kid unicorn kept asking about the metal in my concealed pocket. I got tired of trying to explain what a mobile phone was to him and tossed the phone to the spotlighter. Kid unicorn forgot about the mobile phone instantly and let me tag him with a touch.

I had to wade waist-deep in the river to get to know this unicorn. And let me tell you, unicorns do  have names. But you will never figure out how to pronounce them, and they slip out of your mind like my mobile phone slipped out of unicorn kid’s, earlier.

I was so excited when I found a winged horse! “What do I do with this one?” I asked the spotlighter.

“Just move on,” he said. “They’re quite common; not a concern for the gallery.”

Well, I’d never seen one before.

By this time, I was getting tired. Unicorn after unicorn, connection after connection, and then we come across this cocky little shit. “Just let me know when he’s finished being an arse,” I said. It took almost a quarter of an hour to get him to calm down and smell me and realise it was, yeah.

Fine, you smug fucks, it’s fine for a unicorn to touch me. I am touchable by unicorns. Is that what you wanted to know?

This unicorn had dozens of previous magical tags. When I asked about that, the spotlighter (the dwarf had gone home to his nice little house with his nice little family by this point) told me to brush them aside but leave them. They estimate this unicorn is the oldest one on the grounds. He wasn’t unkind, but he was more hesitant about connecting with me than some of the others.

My guess was he’d seen a lot more than he wanted to share with me. I walked away without even hearing his name, but he whispered something to me as I walked away. “Don’t forget me,” he said.

I turned back around. “How could I forget you?” I asked.

“Oh, many have. But I will leave you with the same gift I leave all of them, before they go. Here is one thing you must never forget, even if you forget me. My gift to you. Love,” he said, “is a well that does not run dry. Don’t forget.”

I didn’t understand that, but I promised not to forget.

From the oldest to the youngest, we came full circle. I thought the lights must mean it was almost dawn, but the spotlighter explained the lights in the Lost Unicorn Gallery’s grounds just do that.

“Hi, little guy,” I said. This one was only too happy to get to know me. I don’t know that he’d ever met someone he could touch before.

“You met grandfather!” he said as we had a quick nuzzle before I tagged him.

“I did, yes!” I couldn’t help being charmed by the little guy.

“Did he tell you something about love?” asked the unicorn foal.

“He did,” I replied.

“Good. You should always remember that,” replied the foal.

Great. Baby unicorns are giving me advice about love.

If he weren’t so cute, I think I probably would have hurled on the spot.

The little guy was the last unicorn of the night. We were all exhausted by this time, and we hadn’t made it through even a third of what they suspect the population is. So I guess I’ve got a job for a few more nights, and a song running through my head as well.*

Style Card:
Skin: 7 Deadly s{K}ins: VALERIA (available NOW at the Paradise of Fantasy Fair!)
Armour: The Forge: Arcana Armour (Available at We Love Role-play!)
Clothing: OrsiniRed: Let Your Guard Down, Cobalt
Hair (city shots): Analog Dog: Petula
Hair (tagging unicorns): Truth: Rogue
Ring: Aisling: The Good Wife
Piercings: Ellabella
Ears: Mandala: Long Mandala Fantasy Elf Ears

Locations:
City: L’Arc-en-Ciel
Tagging Unicorns: Lost Unicorn Gallery

Spiffy photos taken with the indispensible aid of my LumiPro. Go look at the web page. Yes, I know they’re expensive. If you want to take amazing photos in SL, they’re worth every Linden.

*Some of you who know me know that in real life, I sometimes write songs. I wrote a song with the refrain noted above today.