petal-painting duties

he wouldn’t miss a petal. not again. not after the tongue-lashing that astrid gave him yesterday.

this is certainly no queen’s guard job, but nobody cared to warn micah just how painfully perfectionist the artisans are with their landscaping and land-painting work. all micah did on his run was neglect to paint a singular petal on a singular wildflower. it wasn’t even that big! just a small, budding little thing tucked away under blankets of far bigger and braver petals. yet astrid still caught it. the one, snow-white petal buried under a sea of lavender that micah had painted with what he thought was flawless precision.

micah’s wings droop at the thought of failing another job. what really is a fae without a job? without a purpose? is he really a fae at all?

these thoughts and more swirl through micah’s mind as he mixes today’s set of paints. a clump of tulips have bloomed a few hills over, and astrid, by the grace of the gods, has elected to give him one last chance to not, in astrid’s sage words, “fuck up again.”

micah gathers his paint cans and steels himself.

sure, he won’t be leaving the gulch to fight any battles in the name of the queen of his clan… not today, at least. but micah can still hope that his work makes a difference - brightens a child’s or another fae’s day.

and perhaps, one day, he’ll finally be allowed to pick up that sword instead of the paint brush.