"Since you're on the Unseelie path," (Patreon)

Burnside giggled excitedly as she trotted over to us, "I can teach you a few tips an' tricks about the best ways to skin folks alive an' wear their hide as a suit.  It's a real hoot if you can do an impression of 'em in their skin while you carve up their hocks for vittles.  Always gets a big reaction."

"Oh right," Rebecca muttered.  "I forgot for a moment that the Raccoon Monster makes being Unseelie sound horrible and disgusting.  Are you even an elf, really?"

"Course I am!" Burnside insisted.

"She is," I admitted.  "As Unseelie as they come.  Where did you get that knife?  I thought I confiscated all of them."

"You didn't look everywhere, sugar," Burnside explained with a salacious grin.

"Is there any other way to be Unseelie without skinning people and getting covered in guts?" Rebecca asked.

"Not if you wanna do it right," Burnside declared.

"Shoo," I said to Burnside.  "I need to talk to my disciple privately."

"You're tryin' to ruin that gal," Burnside grumbled with a sad shake of her head.

"Is this truly the path you want to go down?" I asked Rebecca after Burnside had shuffled away.  "Remember when you first stumbled into this stone circle, how concerned you were for your father's safety when I temporarily transmogrified him into a poodle?  Remember how you were horrified when you thought I had killed those Bunkirk thugs, even though it was only Elfshot?  You were worried about them even though you claimed to hate them.  This doesn't sound like someone destined to be Unseelie.  Based on what I've heard you say, your life in Bunkirk was very repressed.  You left looking for some sort of outlet, but you're overcompensating and veering too far over to the other extreme, simply through your desire to rebel against those social restraints.  I ask you earnestly:  If you really did gain all the power you desire, the ability to burn down villages with a thought and turn people into statues, would you do it?  Never mind gutting someone and turning them into stew like the Raccoon Monster over there does.  Without even getting your hands dirty, could you really look someone in the eyes and curse them into oblivion?"

"Well, umm ..."

"What I'm offering you," I continued, before she had a chance to think too hard about it, "is a very real way to experience everything you were denied in your old home.  I'm not talking about some creepy violent dark fantasy that will only end with you living all alone in the roots of a hollow tree, shunned by everyone and constantly hunted by angry townsfolk -"

"Don't knock it til you've tried it," Burnside called from across the clearing.

"Private conversation!" I yelled back.  Turning again to Rebecca, I continued:  "I'm offering you the chance to pursue mischief and magick - REAL MAGICK - and have fun, bringing joy to others as well as to yourself.  You can still be as witchy and brooding and wear as much black as you want."

"What about the Revels?  If being Unseelie means I get to have wild venery -"

"The Seelie have revels too," I insisted.

"With venery though?"

"With venery," I confirmed.  "There's nothing wicked about venery.  Fuma does not forbid it from anyone.  You keep interpreting everything based on what your lowfolk Bunny church has taught you, but that kind of skewed morality doesn't apply here.  You can be free without being evil or Unseelie.  Look, I know you are on the cusp of living out your fantasy and you're excited, but you need to focus and listen to what I'm actually saying instead of what you think I'm saying.  Can you at least try to do that?  I am confident that you will like what lies on the Seelie path."

"Well... I guess I can try," Rebecca reluctantly agreed.  "Doing tricks and mischief does sound more fun than being hated by everyone."

"Very good.  Now, let's resume your study of the Foxspell.  First, tell me what language it is written in."

"It's in English, of course," she stated as she took the book and quickly flipped to the page where she had stopped before.  "Except for the Overspell, which is in some arcane and mystical tongue - OH!"

"The Overspell!" she exclaimed.  "It's gone!  Right there is the last paragraph I read, but now instead of 'Lorem ipsum,' the line beneath it says 'High in heaven the Lady sat.'  What happened?"

"Your so-called 'Overspell' is nothing but gibberish," I explained.  "It is a magickal smoke-screen which conceals information that the reader is not prepared to understand."

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