There are times that Meg really wishes she had a car. Though that's not really the best way for a fae to get around. Lots of iron, you know.

... not that a bus is any better. But she doesn't have the time or the power or the ability to fly across town, and biking means that she's sweaty and disgusting and stuff whenever she finally gets where she's going.

She's being the Blue Thing again today. Neon blue--is there a such thing?--glossy printing on her black shirt, matching hair and jewellery and eyes, and black everything else. Oh, and blue sparkly mascara, and mostly plain shiny lipgloss.

It's all illusion, because that's just what she does.

Lizbeth was seated at the back of the bus, a plastic bag with a cd in it resting in her lap. She lived all the way across town, and she hadn't been able to convince her mother to drive her to the mall just for a single disk. Her mother didn't drive much, anyway - she hardly ever used the car. Yet she wouldn't let Lizbeth use it - City traffic was too much for her to handle, supposedly.
Go figure.

When Meg got on the bus, Lizbeth outright stared.
The blue and the hair and the - just - wow. Amazing.

Lizbeth herself was dressed plainly in comparison (so was everyone else, really - can't compete with glamour). She wore a heavy-looking dark red jacket, a dress that was more like a very long shirt, and chunky black boots laced up to just below her knees. She had on too many necklaces, mainly because she hadn't been able to choose just one to wear.

Lizbeth finally tore her gaze away from Meg - it was very difficult to do. She slid over on the seat, tring to make room and hoping that the Amazing Blue Girl would sit next to her.

Meg finds other nonhumans interesting. Lizbeth is the only one on the bus.

"Hi."

She's sparkly and cheerful and bubbly and sitting next to Lizbeth.

"I'm Meg."

Yes!
"I'm Lizbeth." Not Liz, or Lizzy, or Beth. Lizbeth.

She grinned and leaned back, crushing her (stupid!) wings against the seat.
"I like your hair," she said amiably. "Really. It's so bright it's actually hurting my eyes."
That is a compliment, oddly enough.

"Thanks. I liked blue this morning, so I went with it." I guess she dyes her hair every day?

Nah. That would be silly.

"Is that your real full name or is that what you go by?"

"Neat." The level of enthusiasm in her voice is a little weird, no?

"Lizbeth's my real full name. It's Elizabeth minus two letters," she shrugged. She assumed that Meg was short for Megan, and so didn't return the question to the other girl. "Just a small difference."

"This is neat too. My full name is Margaret Ann, but no one's allowed to call me that except my grandmother, and I avoid her at all costs."

Said grandmother is a tyrannical sort, who is very traditional and doesn't associated with humans except to seduce them and leave them. She's very, very traditional.

"That's a mouthful of a name. No wonder you don't use it," Lizbeth grinned, snickering a little. She wasn't laughing at the name, of course. It was Meg's frankness that was making her laugh.

"I haven't seen my grandmother in years," She wrinkled her freckled nose in a cute sort of way. "All I remember is that she used to call me Lispy and Lizzie-poo. Daft as a fruitbat."

"If my grandmother were daft, I think I'd like her better."

Because then she'd feel safe in bringing human boyfriends home without her grandmother stealing them. And yes, although this is disturbing to contemplate, it has happened.

What? The woman... creature... whatever... is immortal, after all. Not to mention ageless.

"Where're you going?"

"Home," Lizbeth shrugged, then realized her answer wasn't specific enough. "Just out of town. Not too far. You?"

Just to note? Lizbeth look a tad dazed. Glamours tend to do that to her.

"Elm street. The bus doubles back."

She cocks her head.

"So what're you, 'zactly?"

"What do you mean, what a-" Lizbeth began, bristling. Then she relaxed as she realized what Meg meant.

"Half harpy," she said, tilting her head to one side. Meg had to be something, too, then, didn't she? How else could she have known? Lizbeth's wings were well-hidden, and there weren't many other clues. "Are you,... something? Or just a good guesser?"

"Totally fae, babe."

Meg grins.

And drops the glamours for an eyeblink, then puts them up again.

"So much cheaper than dye. Makes me glad I'm not human."

"Ohhh. 'Kay."
Lizbeth nodded, feeling faintly disappointed for the brief moment when the glamour was dropped. It was fake! But then it was back, and her disappointment evaporated. So what if it was fake, it looked great.
"I don't know,.. If there was a way to try being completely human, I'd do it. It's annoying as heck to have to hide - things - just because people can't handle the way they are." She likes being different, but only when it isn't an annoyance.

"Whatcha have to hide?"

She can't see through the clothes and stuff, after all. If it were a glamour, that would of course be completely different.

She flips her currently blue hair over her shoulder.

Lizbeth cast a furtive glance around the vehicle. No one was looking. She shuffled her jacket down far enough to reveal about a third of her rusty-red wings. A band of elastic had them tied mostly flat to her back. Lizbeth wriggled them, then pulled her jacket back into place.

"Mainly those," she said. "Nothing else is obvious yet."

"Wish I had some of those. I've got to make do with tattoos."

Which are actually permanent, and not a glamour. That's because she doesn't want to bother remembering the details of the things from day to day.

Tattoos?
So cool.

"You don't want these, trust me," Lizbeth wrinkled her nose. "Well, not like mine. They moult all the time and they're not going to be flight-worthy for another thirty years. And they smell funny when they're wet."

One might wonder how much of Lizbeth's fascination with Meg is due to the fae girl's glamours and how much is simply due to her complete refusal to do anything that could be construed as 'blending in.'

She giggles.

"So don't get 'em wet."

This is logic. Sort of. Mostly. Ahem.

"But I have to, unfortunately," she said wryly. "There's no other way to get them clean. Those dust baths that birds take? They don't work. I tried that when I was a little kid. Threw dirt all over the place, then shook it off. Then I had to take a bath to get the dirt off. So I'm stuck."

Meg considers this.

"Sucks for you, then."

I'm afraid she isn't a very compassionate person.

"What's your mom like?"

Lizbeth shrugs it off - having smelly wings does suck.

"She's... pushy. In this sneaky way so that I don't think she's being bossy until later. But okay, though. For a mom. I've seen worse," Lizbeth bega scratching at the plastic bag i her lap, drawing lines down the plastic. "What're your parents like?"

"Mama's a bitch."

This does not bother Meg in the slightest, by the way, that's just what she expects from her mom. Besides, she's more bitchy to non-fae--and therefore lesser--beings than she is to her daughter.

"Dunno my dad. Not that I care."

"Ah. 'Kay." Lizbeth said, treating the subject with what nonchalance she could muster. Meg's own bitchiness doesn't bother her very much - the very best people always have a bit of it, and according to Lizbeth, it's worth putting up with. Until it gets personal, of course.

Meg is a bitch in the way that a small child is a bitch. She often doesn't realize how nasty she's being. Other times it's deliberate and quite intentionally cruel.

This time, by the way, it's the unconscious type.

"Got a boyfriend?"

She was tempted to lie, and say 'yes', but...
"Nope. Just guy friends."
A lot of guy friends, really. A few of them have made it clear that they would like to be more than just friends.
Lizbeth is under the impression that they only want her because they think she's easy.
Sadly, she's mostly right.
"You?"

"Nah. I play, though. Kinda comes with the territory."

Meg, you see, is easy. To catch, but not to keep, and she tends to be high maintenance once caught.

But it's all in good fun. (For her.)

"Heh. Yeah, I guess," Lizbeth nodded. "I've never tried. Is it easy to do?"

Lizbeth would like to be - meaning, she isn't - the kind of girl who could string guys along, have them wrapped around her little finger. The trouble is that she'd be too tenderhearted to be cruel like that. She blames the human half of her genes for that. It would be nice to be completely human, or completely harpy. Not stuck in the middle with the worst of both sides.

Lizbeth should meet Jetta if she thinks that humanity makes one more tenderhearted. I'm more inclined to think it comes from something else.

Meg shrugs.

"'s the glamours. Humans are really easy to catch that way."

Yes, she cheats. So?

"Oh."
Yes, she's disappointed. Lizbeth had been hoping Meg would give her tips, but if it was something like glamours, then there was nothing she could do.
"Yeah, I can see why." Lizbeth's aware of how easily fooled she can be by illusions. She just doesn't care.

Meg cocks her head.

"Is it something I said?"

Heyyy, don't be disappointed in the heartless faery girl being a heartless faery... It's not her fault!

"No, well... sort of. I just wondered if there was a way I could pull it off. It sounds like fun," she grinned teasingly. "But I don't do glamours. Is there any way to learn...?"

Just because Lizbeth knows faeries exist, doesn't mean she knows anything about them. For example? A half-harpy can not learn to use faery glamours.
This half-harpy can't, anyway.

Meg blinks.

"Prob'ly not. Maybe you could manage human magic, but that's just not the same at all."

A-hem. Someone is a tad big for her hats, don't you think.

"Mmhmm," Lizbeth nodded. "I'm not going to waste my time on it then. Oh, well."

She'll stick with her fake sleight-of-hand type magic, thanks.

"Sorry. I dunno, maybe you could do something with makeup and things? No substitute for glamour, but whatever works..."

She has no idea how to even put on makeup, by the way. No reason to know, you see.