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hellfighters2016-01-18 06:38 pm
lovestheimpala) wrote in hellfighters2016-01-18 06:38 pm
Entry tags:
More than Magic
Once upon a time, there was a species of supernatural beings who liked to watch over the ones with deep desires in their hearts. If they were good, they would grant them wishes, and help them on the way to finding true love and happiness.
In the old days, they were so loved and revered that stories would be told of them. But the fairy godmothers, as they were known amongst those who held them dear, grew to be more and more presumptuous about the wishes of their wards. In short, they got cocky and more and more of the granted wishes backfired. It got so bad that people stopped loving them, stopped telling stories about them, and when they finally stopped making wishes to them the species started die out. Without the wishes giving them the power, there was nothing to keep them in existence.
But of course, some stories alive and there was always the occasional wishes dropping in from little children that had yet to stop believing, so a few stayed a live. A handful at first, then only a couple, and finally just the one.
The very last of the fairy godmothers is a mess to behold.
He's fading, there's no doubt of that, and his once gloriously sparkling gown hangs in tatters. His beautiful mane of silver and cream has lost all luster and is falling out by the handfuls. His wings barely function anymore, and he's generally had one too many hits of Mumbo Jamma Juice. Bothering with wishes isn't really a thing anymore. Occasionally, he will come across something that catches his attention enough that he uses the last drops of his power to try to grant it.
Sadly, he rarely gets it right.
Like when he comes across this semi-young hunter with a plethora of the most sore and sad wishes in his scarred and broken heart. The hidden longing for love and family and home, reminds the fairy godmother so much of the princesses he used to cater to thousands of years ago, that he can't resist the need to want to bring just those things to the hunter.
Except, again he gets it wrong. He gets those wishes all garbled up and can't differentiate between love and home and safety, and he thinks the best thing he can do for this one called Dean is to turn his beloved car into a human. And the face the old fairy picks, is the first one he can pluck out of what lies in Dean's heart.
In the old days, they were so loved and revered that stories would be told of them. But the fairy godmothers, as they were known amongst those who held them dear, grew to be more and more presumptuous about the wishes of their wards. In short, they got cocky and more and more of the granted wishes backfired. It got so bad that people stopped loving them, stopped telling stories about them, and when they finally stopped making wishes to them the species started die out. Without the wishes giving them the power, there was nothing to keep them in existence.
But of course, some stories alive and there was always the occasional wishes dropping in from little children that had yet to stop believing, so a few stayed a live. A handful at first, then only a couple, and finally just the one.
The very last of the fairy godmothers is a mess to behold.
He's fading, there's no doubt of that, and his once gloriously sparkling gown hangs in tatters. His beautiful mane of silver and cream has lost all luster and is falling out by the handfuls. His wings barely function anymore, and he's generally had one too many hits of Mumbo Jamma Juice. Bothering with wishes isn't really a thing anymore. Occasionally, he will come across something that catches his attention enough that he uses the last drops of his power to try to grant it.
Sadly, he rarely gets it right.
Like when he comes across this semi-young hunter with a plethora of the most sore and sad wishes in his scarred and broken heart. The hidden longing for love and family and home, reminds the fairy godmother so much of the princesses he used to cater to thousands of years ago, that he can't resist the need to want to bring just those things to the hunter.
Except, again he gets it wrong. He gets those wishes all garbled up and can't differentiate between love and home and safety, and he thinks the best thing he can do for this one called Dean is to turn his beloved car into a human. And the face the old fairy picks, is the first one he can pluck out of what lies in Dean's heart.
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