> "Is there anything you two (Turnberry and Christina )
  > haven't done and can't do?"

  Christina smiles. "Tis' all but smoke and mirrors, ashes and fairy dust , I'm afraid," she replies wistfully, "phantoms and shadows. No more permanent than a moonbeam, a wave upon the sand --or a dream. Like the monsters under the bed, terrible and amazing, until you actually take a cold hard look. "

"Aye," Christina waxes, "harsh reality is not a place for us Fae; we are not will-workers, like yourself; we are but tools --pawns-- leaves tossed by the desires and wills of others. That be our place. When we bend extrordinary effort to it, we can help others make their dreams come true, when the spirit is willing and the heart hungry; but against even the simplest disbelief we lack power at all."

"We Fae can do little --and much--; we can do as little or as much as -you- desire --and not a bit more. In all of your hands, in all of your hearts, in each one of your spirits, you control our powers and rein our abilities. Bind us close to Banal reality, and we fade into nothingness; give us string, and we can soar into the greatest of fantasies; wish as high as the stars themselves, and anything --anything you desire-- could be yours. Tis' not our course to chart, but yours--guide us as you see fit," she says, simply. "We have always existed but to serve."

"As for things done?" she asks, mischeviously. "The Mage and the Garou are locked into mortal flesh; doomed but one short run on the face of the earth; the Kindred can carry centuries of adventure and story like we can, but only after dark, and hidden from human society.  William...or Yelyena...or Julia I'm sure could tell tale after tale --but their stories are often ones of tragedy, struggle and fear --tis' the curse of Caine upon them. Ours are the stories of hope, joy and laughter --tis the gift of a Pooka. Tis' the gift of the Changeling. "

" We Changelings have not physical strength nor power over reality, but we have instead the gift of time --that we may walk freely under the sun, together and not apart from man, welcomed and free to live --truly live!" she exclaims, holding her hands out wide and turning slowly, almost in exhultation.

"More fortunate people under the sun do not exist, m'lady," Christina finishes, "and though our lives and our destinies be not our own but of the Dreamers we serve, the rewards are enough for me --for us."

  > Maia

  -- Christina