The Hot Mess Collective, Ch 4: Low Court, High Key

For Maeve, magic is for hiding. But when a stranger sees the coppery glitter in her eyes and isn't afraid, everything begins to change.

Another Tuesday, another lukewarm coffee tasting vaguely of existential dread; Maeve figured it was the house special.

She bent more over her textbook. Its title, Comparative Fold Law: A Study in Contradictions and Loopholes, felt like an insult most days. She tried to ignore the constant worry she always felt. The cheap, flickering lights of "The Daily Grind" didn't help her messy copper hair, which was fighting the old pencil she'd used to hold it back. Her magic disguise, what little she used, was probably acting up like a bad lightbulb. It was just enough to hide the sharp points of her ears and the faint coppery glow her skin got when she was stressed or using magic. Mostly, it just kept people from asking questions.

Gods, this chapter on avoiding Tithes will kill me, she thought, poking a finger at a hard-to-read section. As if anyone in the real Fold follows these rules unless a High Court guard is watching them. Then it's all fake respect and secret deals. Humans write these books like the Fold is some organized church, not the messy, sometimes deadly, free-for-all it really is.

A shadow fell on her book. "More dread, or do you want something with actual caffeine?"

Maeve looked up, blinking. Alex stood there, leaning on the counter with a friendly smile, holding a hot coffee pot. Alex, who always had paint on their apron (Maeve guessed they were an art student), had kind hazel eyes that always seemed to be truly smiling. They also had a lot of piercings that Maeve often found herself counting, which was embarrassing. Alex was probably the only human around who didn't make Maeve want to use a small curse.

"Uh," Maeve said. Her mind was still on difficult Seelie Court laws. "Just… more dread, thanks. It fits how I feel."

Alex laughed. It was a warm, unfeigned sound that always made Maeve feel a little less guarded. They filled her mug. "Tough day with the old books?"

"You have no idea," Maeve mumbled, pushing a loose curl from her face. "It's all just… fake nonsense. Written by people who've never had to run from a hungover kelpie."

Alex’s smile got bigger. "Can't say I've done that. Sounds… exciting." They leaned a bit closer, their eyes crinkling. "You know, for someone who reads old books, you have a surprisingly fresh spark. Especially when you're really mad at them."

Maeve froze. Sparkle? Was that a nice way of saying something else? Was her magic disguise failing worse than usual? She felt her face get warm. "Sparkle? I think that's just the bad lights bouncing off how desperate I am."

"Nah," Alex said, shaking their head. They looked right at her, seeing more than felt comfortable. "It’s more… in your eyes. Like tiny bits of copper glitter when the light catches them. It’s cool. Most people look like they're slowly dying under these lights."

Maeve held her breath. Coppery glitter. That was… very specific. That was the kind of thing her magic disguise was meant to hide, to make her look as plain as the chipping paint on the cafe walls. She waited for what usually happened next - the weird question, the careful step away, the change from friendly to scared.

But Alex just kept smiling, not bothered at all. It was like talking about a strange sparkle in someone's eyes was the most normal thing ever.

Maeve just stared. Her usual smart remarks wouldn't come out. The alarm bells in her head, which usually rang loudly if anyone saw the real her, were suddenly quiet. Coppery glitter? That wasn't just a coffee shop worker being friendly; that was someone really seeing her. Specific. And Alex wasn't backing away. They weren't looking at her suspiciously or like she’d grown another head. They were just… smiling. Like it was a compliment. A real, simple compliment about a part of her she usually tried to make disappear.

A warm, pleasant heat bloomed up her neck and into her cheeks. It felt new, this warmth that wasn't anger or embarrassment, but something… softer. "Oh. Uh," she stuttered. She felt very exposed, but also, strangely, a little bit lighter. "Right. Probably just… the light. Or, you know, getting sick from magic radiation from the library. It happens."

Alex laughed again. It was a low, easy sound that seemed to vibrate in her chest, loosening something tight she hadn't known was there. "Whatever it is, it looks good on you. Better than the usual 'student zombie' look most people have in here." Their eyes stayed on her for a moment, warm. There was no creepy interest or weird fascination she sometimes got from humans who sensed something "different" about her. It was just…sincere. So sincere it was unsettling, almost wonderful. It was like a tiny, unexpected bit of sunshine had broken through the usual clouds in her mind.

And just like that, a small, new crack appeared in Maeve’s tough, cynical shell. She found herself smiling back a little, a real smile, not the tight, dismissive one she usually used. It felt strange on her face, like a muscle she hadn't used in a while. "Well, I've worked hard on my 'student zombie' look for years. Glad to know I'm finally trying something new, even if it's 'magically sparkly eyes.'" The words weren't as sarcastic as she meant them to be; they almost sounded playful.

They talked easily for a few more minutes. It felt surprisingly natural, like talking to Nori or Imani when things weren't going wrong. They talked about Alex's latest art project (something with old metal and "the messiness of city decay," which Maeve found less snobby than it sounded, especially when Alex’s eyes lit up talking about it). Maeve, in turn, managed to complain about her schoolwork without sounding totally negative, and Alex listened in a way that made her feel, for a surprising moment, interesting. The feeling inside her spread. It was a soft, comforting feeling, very different from her usual sharp thoughts and sarcastic comments. It was…pleasant. Deeply, unnervingly pleasant.

Then, the moment stretched. Alex’s smile softened. There was a question in their eyes, an invitation to… something. More talk? A real connection beyond just a worker and customer? Maeve felt a flicker of something warm and scarily hopeful grow in her chest, like rising bread dough. The urge to ask Alex when their shift ended, to suggest getting a drink (even just another bad coffee, maybe they could make it better together?), was surprisingly strong. Her heart gave a little, unexpected jump, a clear thump-thump against her ribs that wasn't from caffeine.

But then the old, familiar thoughts kicked in, cold and sharp like broken ice. They’re just being friendly. It’s their job. They’re nice to everyone. They don’t know what you really are. If they did… they wouldn’t look at you like that. What if they’re just curious? Another human looking for a weird Fold story, and you’re just today’s oddity? The soft warmth in her chest started to get hard and heavy, uncomfortable. This - this easy, real appreciation, this hint of something - wasn't for the real Maeve, the messy, complicated, not-great-at-magic, cynical Maeve. It couldn't be. People weren't that nice without wanting something.

She pulled back. Her smile tightened just a little, the new softness hardening. "Well," she said, her voice a bit too bright, a bit too forced, the nice pleasant feeling already fading. "Better get back to the exciting world of Tithe rules. Before the real rule-keepers come for me. Thanks for the… uh… glitter report." She gathered her books suddenly, almost clumsily. The comfortable feeling from moments ago was gone.

Alex’s smile didn’t disappear, though something - surprise? disappointment? - flickered in their eyes too fast for Maeve to really see or let herself believe. "Anytime. Good luck with the kelpies."

"Right. Them," Maeve mumbled. She threw her bag over her shoulder and practically ran out of the coffee shop. The bell above the door jingled behind her, almost like it was laughing at her.

Out on the street, the city air felt cool on her warm cheeks. She walked quickly, not looking back. The sound of Alex’s easy laugh and the real warmth of their kindness fought with the familiar, heavy feeling of her own defenses. It was a stupid, tiny moment, really. Just a coffee shop worker being nice. But the short, unexpected feeling of goodness, of someone seeing something real in her, something she usually hid or ignored, and liking it… that stayed with her. It was a confusing, unsettling, but definitely pleasant hum under the usual noise in her thoughts, a little bit of unexpected sunshine she wasn't sure what to do with.

***

Later that evening, Maeve was back in her small, messy apartment. The warm feeling from the coffee shop had turned into a restless, jumpy energy. She walked back and forth on the worn carpet between her uneven bookshelf and the window that looked out onto a very full dumpster. Alex’s words, their easy smile, the surprising feeling of being seen and not immediately ignored - it all kept playing in her mind. It was a new feeling, and honestly, it made her antsy.

She couldn’t focus on her Fold Law book. The dry, legal words felt even stranger after that short moment of real human connection. She needed to do something, something with her hands, something real. Using her magic disguise was out. The thought of trying to make herself look "normal" felt tiring and pointless right now. Who was she even trying to impress?

An idea came to her, surprisingly clear through her usual mental confusion. A protection charm. Not for any big reason, not for a customer, or because of some Fold duty. Just… to make something. Maybe for the apartment itself, which always felt like it could use extra protection from bad feelings and the strange smells from the alley. Or maybe just for herself. A little bit of safety she could make with her own hands.

It felt right. Solid. Unlike the tricky, fake nature of her magic disguise, this was practical magic. It was the kind her grandmother used to do back in Dublin - small, strong spells mixed into everyday life.

Maeve started to gather her things, feeling a quiet sense of purpose. From an old mug on her desk, she took a smooth, grey river stone she’d found on a rare walk by the East River. From a bunch of dried herbs hanging by the window, she picked a piece of rosemary for memory and protection. It smelled sharp and clean. She got a piece of strong brown string from her art supplies box. And finally, from a small wooden bowl full of old things she'd found at thrift stores and on the street, she chose a tiny, old silver button. It had a star carved on it that was almost too small to see. Each item felt important, full of simple, personal meaning.

Sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, she started to work. There were no big magic words, no dramatic moves. Just focus. She held the stone in her hand, feeling its cool weight. She pictured a shield, strong and tough. She carefully tied the rosemary and the button to the stone with the string. Her fingers moved surprisingly well, and her breathing was steady and even. As she worked, she whispered quiet words. It wasn't a formal spell, just a flow of what she wanted - safety, peace, a block against bad things, a welcome for good things.

And for once, the magic didn't fight her. It flowed. It wasn't like the bright, strong power of High Court Fae magic, or the smooth, tricky shimmer of Sayo’s disguises. It was a steady, earthy feeling. It felt like slowly pulling a stubborn root out of the ground - a patient, determined try that worked, slowly but surely. A faint warmth spread from her hands into the objects. The air around her seemed to get thicker, still, and quiet.

When she finally tied the last knot, the little charm lay in her hand. It looked simple but solid. It wasn't beautiful like a Fae object might be. It was rough, a little uneven, clearly homemade. But as she held it, a soft, golden-brown light that was almost too faint to see pulsed from inside the stone. She could feel a gentle, protective hum against her skin. It smelled like rosemary and old silver and something that was just… her.

A slow smile spread across Maeve’s face. It was as real and natural as the one she’d given Alex earlier, but this one also had a quiet, deep feeling of pride. She’d made this. It worked. It was real. This, she realized with a sudden clear thought, was magic she was actually good at. Not the flashy, fake kind the Fold seemed to like, but something quieter, more dependable. Something real.

She closed her fingers around the charm. Its steady warmth felt comforting. The restlessness was gone. Now she felt tired but pleased with what she’d done. Maybe she couldn’t change the world, or even her own deep cynicism, right away. But she could make this. And for tonight, that felt like more than enough.

***

Later that night, before she went to sleep, Maeve decided to call her sister, Saoirse. They hadn’t talked in a while, and she felt a little homesick. Saoirse lived on the West Coast, and even though they weren’t really close anymore, it was nice to hear her voice.

They caught up a little. Maeve tried not to mention Alex, but their smile came back into her head, and she found herself mentioning the weirdly specific compliments about her eyes.

"Oh, a human who sees past your Fold disguise," Saoirse said. Maeve could almost see her sister's eyebrows raised. "Are you sure they weren't drunk?"

"I know," Maeve said, fiddling with her pillow. "It was… I don't know. Weird. Nice. Kinda scary. But the good kind of scary. You know?"

"Hmm," Saoirse said, a teasing tone in her voice. "So, did you get their number? Are you going to see them again?"

Maeve frowned. "It's not like that. It's… complicated."

"You say that about ordering pizza, Maeve," Saoirse said lightly.

They were quiet for a moment, the connection humming between them. Then Saoirse's voice was quiet. "Maeve, it's been years. Just… don't lock the door before you see who's knocking."

"I'm not," Maeve protested, sitting up a little. "I just don't need anyone. I have a good life."

Saoirse sighed. "A life, yes. Don't forget to live it."

The phone hummed quietly.

"I don't know," Maeve said softly, turning over the small charm in her fingers. She looked out the window, at the full moon shining on the garbage below. It was a lonely, tired view, and the thought of spending more nights looking at it, alone, felt heavy.

"Maybe," she said finally. She could hear the reluctant hope in her voice. "Maybe you're right. I guess I have some thinking to do."

"I know you're good at that," Saoirse said lightly. She could hear the small, warm smile in her sister's voice. "Now, I'm off to bed. And you should be too. I'm not the only one who works too hard."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Maeve grumbled, but her heart wasn't in it. She was thinking of a warm, kind smile.

"Goodnight, Maeve," Saoirse said gently. "And take care of yourself."

"You too, Seersh," Maeve mumbled, and she meant it. "Love you."

As she lay in bed, the small charm in her hand, the city noises drifted through the window. Car horns. Yelling. Dogs barking. A distant siren. Her usual, comforting soundtrack.

And, somewhere in the middle of the mess, a faint, familiar sound. A laugh. Low and warm, real and kind.

***