The oldest building in this godforsaken small town was the Catholic church, until it burned like tinder seven years before. Now, it was the old, marble-built temple, depictions of fae covered in vines and dust. It'd been abandoned a century before, and although most of the citizens weren't sure of the real reason, it was still a place that the residents avoided. Some say it harbored malicious spirits and mischievous fairies, ready to tear at flesh and skin.
Others said that it was haunted by the ghosts who were executed there, ready to curse anyone who got near. For whatever reason that they deserted the temple in the last century, it had stood deserted, without even a field trip from the local elementary school to keep it company. The forest that the town put its foundations next to slowly reclaimed the temple, covering it in green foliage, leaving very little of the grandiose marble exposed. Moss grew liberally, flowers bloomed brightly, mushrooms sprouted. It was a beautiful little place half a day out from the town, the only broken structure still considered part of the town.
Maybe they were afraid that any more offences would anger the fairies or the spirits or the ghosts. None of them would be particularly offended, Ves thought, as they stood over the dead body, the human blood seeping into the cracks of the marble floor. They weren't. Human depictions of their kind had nothing to do with them, even if they did get the ears right sometimes. Faeries weren't gods; Ves had more important things to do than seethe at every human who came near this temple, which wasn't built for the fae in the first place. Funny what human memories and herd mentality did to the old.
Ves dragged the body to the thickest undergrowth of the temple, right where the steps were. There was a dead log at the bottom, home to maggots, mushrooms, and every decay expert one could think of.
They left the body with it, still warm, still malleable. The other human mentioned the human words for it in passing: rigor mortis. Blood settling, body stiffening. It hadn't been long enough for it.
They rubbed the blood off their cheek, wiped their bloodied hands and soles of their shoes on the body's clothes, and put their hoodie back on, checking for spots of blood. They didn't want to be found before the timing became ambiguous. They walk silently, the long way, to a small fire in between a few old trees, a boy sitting calmly, staring at the dancing flames.
He looked up when Ves came into view. "Vin," they said. "You're back. Where's Kaj?"
Ves, Vin to the human (the prince had always said they lacked creativity), shrugged, "Dunno. I don't make Kaj's bathroom habits my business."
The human looked away, thinking, "It's been long for someone who's so afraid of the forest."
"Maybe he had to take a fat dump," Ves replied lazily.
A short silence, then the human smiled, like they knew something. They should've been used to that smile, the smile the human used so often, bright and gleaming. That smile looked for trouble by itself.
"Maybe," the human drawled, making a reassured face that didn't try to look convincing.
Two hours later, when the human dragged Ves— tense and jumpy— along to find the dead one, his face betrayed nothing— no anger, no horror, no surprise. Ves had pretended to be friends with this human for months, yet their lazy discarding of everyone around them was jarring, even to fae like them. It was inhuman, fae—like in the worst ways.
"Kaj's dead," they said, unsympathetic. "Did you do it?" Too bad the prince didn't offer hazard pay.