Fable - Ask A Wisp of Shadows

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Cadwyn

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Mache Nwa, Southwestern Falwood
The Dark Market

|| Cillian ||
Cadwyn could only hear the rush of water, her sight completely blinded by the dark shroud over the tiny cage the hunter had thrown her in. It was made of a crude iron that she could not bend, melt, or burst open with her magic. The small, fluttering glowing blue wisp of light would frantically pulse in growing alarm. She'd been sunning herself on a leaf by the waterfall when the forest became deathly still. Ever the curious creature, she'd flown to investigate, only to be caught mid-air by some cursed net spun of iron that had given her burns, causing the tiny fae to quiver in agony, trepidation, and alarm.

All sense of time had left her, for she did not have the light of the stars, moon, or sun to give her an inkling of the passing hours or what day it be. Tired, hurt, and hungry, she couldn't even lay down on the base of her cage, for the iron itself would seep into her being and kill her in mere seconds. The number of emotions crashing and tumbling within her tiny being made the tiny wisp of light shimmer in a kaleidoscope of colors, each glowing and flaring with her shifting moods.

Where were they taking me? Thoughts would race in her mind, darting left and right barely a few millimeters, anxious on what manner of fate lay before her. Outside, the croak of the froglike Bang Vung jostled the layers of jowls under his wide mouth. He was short and squat, without a discernible nose and large, watery grey eyes. The Bang Vung were known to be skilled trappers and hunters along the Saju River that fed on Falwood to the swamps of the Cortosi shore. Their wares dealt with hard to get commodities that would be useful to Vel Anir mages -- much like the Will-o-Wisp he believed he'd caught today. There were others of course. The sawed-off horn and mercurial blood of a unicorn, the knife ears of elves, the paws of shape-shifting bears. He collected what others would not and sold them for a profit. Today would be a good day at auction at the black market.
 
The Dark Market was known by many names in many different tongues. In Cillian's own it translated as the Court of Nightmares into the Common Tongue, and it was just that. As he walked the lines and rows of goods on show before the auction started his face grew grimmer and grimmer until it was the perfect manifestation of the word disgust. If he hadn't caught word of something from his home somehow making its way here he wouldn't have come at all.

The moon hung high like a silver penny in the sky illuminating all need for the torches that burnt uselessly down the makeshift streets of traders and visitors. Its silver light touched things mortals would wish it wouldn't, whilst it cast into shadow the more unusual and precious. Twas a good thing this man had luck about him or he most certainly would have passed by the little stand wedged between the snarling cages belonging to a Direwolf breeder and a Orc blacksmith booming about his wares.

Dressed in a leather trench coat that flapped about his ankles and protected him from the cooler spring night air, he pulled the hat he wore upon his head lower to cast shadows about his face and mask his identity a little more. Yet still his golden eyes shone in the moonlit market as he glanced about the contents on the table in front of him. Then there.

"Is that really a Knot of Eo Mugna tree?" he pointed to the twisted black rod of wood. There was a heaping of doubt in his tone. There had been many a fake sighting or claim to having a piece of the tree that brought life to his homeland. Never had he come across the genuine article.
 
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|| Cillian ||

"D'hat 'dere is-s, gud s-ser," the broken Common was as harsh on the ears as it was to the tongue. The Bang Vung's mouth broke into a wide, toothless grin that ran from ear to ear had he any. Watery, gray eyes shone with no uncertain eagerness.

"D'hat 'dere was fed by Connia's well its-self." A rather bold claim, crimson slit eyes glittering like scattered jewels upon a peat bog. Just being near the slimy creature was enough to make anyone's skin crawl.

"I hear it s-say d'hat fae react to it," that long sticky tongue gave a sweep over his right eyelid, as quick as can be, darting in and out within the blink of an eye.

The Bang Vung leaned closer, his voice cajoling temptation and secrets of the goods he has to offer. "Got one of 'dem littles ones to prove it."
 
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Cillian's face was an open book on the art of doubt as the dealer spoke. His lips pressed together and a frown marred his brown with a thick line as he looked the thing over. The issue was was that the dealer was right. If it were the genuine article it would react to Fae and even more to a Leprechaun so he didn't dare do so himself. He was a lucky lad but everyone's luck had to run out at one point of other, even for one such as he. He had been about to dismiss it outright; there could simple be no way this... Cilli's eyes raked the man in and his face spasmed into disgust for the briefest of moments. No way this creature could have possibly come across such a priceless artefact.

But when he mentioned he had another test subject....

Horror flooded him; this was Kin one way or another and he knew the effects the branch would have on them if it were the real deal. He kept this all off his face however, going instead for the look of disbelief.

"First ye say yiz got a knot from Eo Mugna 'erself 'nd now ye sayin' yiz got one of her children too?" he snorted and folded his arms over his chest.
 
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|| Cillian ||

The Bang Vung's grin broke into a wide, toothless smile, his eyes glittering with an almost glassy appeal. "Piqued, yer interest d'en d'ere s-ser?" His hands gave a small rub of excitement of a possible pending sale.

"Come now, aye s-shew ye -- Ain't no one s-say aye donate provide da goods," he went reaching over towards the stranger as if to clap the back of his shoulder in good cheer. Whether Cillian let him or not, it was not going to bother the Bang Vung. He was well used to the different reactions his wares provoked from people; curiosity, disbelief, disgust, lust, and possessiveness. They were all the same, but here in the black market, what was to be expected. A traffic stop for all things living, dead, illegal, and at times, immoral.

Yet a bit of coin let anyone turn their heads away. It was understood.

"Ye s-see, aye got lucky with d'is one," he continued, gesturing towards another section of his stall. There, between a series of cages showcasing a Tika bird, a dire-cat cub, and a small aquarium of Lumia eels, was what appeared to be a small birdcage with a dark shroud of fabric underneath.

"D'hey s-say d'es are hard to find -- But aye mah ways-s." He was so proud, tugging at the lapels of his dusty coat.

"Caught it good. Beautiful, really," with a flourish, the Bang Vung took the shroud off, revealing a small cage. There, fluttering with anxiety that could be felt by the sheer frantic way it was pulsing a blue-white glow -- one that flashed and then dulled as the sudden rush of light startled Cadwyn, causing her to jerk back and crash against the iron bars.

There was an immediate cry of pain, the iron searing against her tiny wings. Agony went through her and tears would flood her eyes. The innate light of the minute fae creature dulled, and pulsed wildly. Exhaustion was apparent in the sluggish flight pattern she gave, unable to rest due to the iron confinement that would kill her if she touched it for too long.
 
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Cillian didn't move away from the slap on his back but neither did he give an air of joining the man in his mirthful disposition. Instead his golden eyes followed the sweep of his hand across his stall. Nothing looked familial to him, nothing screamed Fae, at least until he motioned to the small cage covered in a cloth. His eyes narrowed the slightest of fractions as he listened to the stallholder prattle on. Cilli was not a man for anger but it was rising now. He had missed the faint smell of the metal that would burn his skin before, the cloth had been too thick, but now as he whipped it away its acidic taste coated his tongue like a nasty syrup. He put a hand over his mouth and masked his disgust with a cough.

It took all of his control not to reach out and snatch the cage from the other man's hand. Anger spread through his veins like a slow burning fire that seemed to set his golden eyes to a smouldering glow. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he ground his teeth. He had been bound in iron before but he could only imagine the agony of having it cage him on all four sides so that she couldn't even rest. He tore his eyes away and back to the merchant.

"Yeah, beautiful," Cillian slid his hands into his coat pockets and rolled his shoulders in a casual gesture as if she were but a sideshow to his real interest. "But t'aint no proof tha's from Eo Mugna," he nodded his chin toward the twisted branch. His gaze flicked briefly back to the small fae in the cage and then raised his fingers to the penny about his throat that caught the light of the moon at just the right moment as luck would have it. Perhaps she would know what it was, what he was.

That he wasn't leaving her here.
 
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|| Cillian ||

A bald brow arched, the jowls of the Bang Vung jiggling as he gave a hearty laugh. Wagging a thick finger in amusement, he chortled, “Focus ey on da real goods.”

He was well pleased because it appeared as if this stranger was very interested in the knot. All the better!

Grabbing the handle of the iron cage, he plucked it free from its perch. Inside Cadwyn had to focus to not let the rush of air and swing make her crash against the bars again. Yet it was to no avail. Another small whimper and dulling of the brightness of her light as another brand-mark laced her arm.

Her eyes were still adjusting to the bright light after days in the dark, pain causing the tears to glimmer over pale eyes. She’d only barely registered the flash of a penny. The flicker of copper. What was that?

Unfortunately, such was her confusing that it’s meaning didn’t register. By the time she managed to get her bearings again, the Bang Vung had already swung her prison just over the knot of wood.

“Just ‘as ta touch it a-s’all.” The vendor explained, although he was only going by lore. He’d caught the little one but what sort of fae she was left him. He was lucky enough to have found her.

Setting the cage down on the table, the Bang Vung took the knot of wood and did his best to try and shove one end through the bars to poke at Cadwyn.

The entire activity was enough to make anyone grimace, as his fat fingers did his best to grip at the knot and get the fae to bump against it without having to open her cage and risk her flying off.

“Jus gotta... git dis right,” he told Cillian. All the while, Cadwyn was doing her best to try and avoid getting knocked about and pinned on the bars.
 
Every little whimper from the cage was another icy lance through his body, another slight twitch in the muscle in his cheek. It was probably a good thing Cillian ran cold rather than hot when anger gripped him. He entered a state of almost serene calm just before driving the point of something sharp into someone annoying. Like this knot of wood. After watching the shop owner attempt to poke the wee lass with the root for about five agonising minutes the man had to flex every ounce of restraint he had not to just shove the man away.

"'ere, lemme," Cillian was in no doubt this was not the real artefact. Even that close to her it should have had some sort of reaction to a member of the Fae family. As luck would have it his gamble was right. When he closed his hand about the root nothing happened and he swept the root in with a more delicate fair. He was used to painting and using the tiniest of instruments so such a movement of finesse came naturally. He didn't bother to chase her about the cage but rather let it hang in the middle of the cage where she would have to hover anyway to avoid being near the iron bars.

"You can trust me," he murmured in their shared tongue. His voice sounded like falling autumn leaves and a bite of winter making it almost hard to hear for those who did not speak nor know it. After a second more he pushed the root through the bars until it acted almost as a ledge for the girl to rest on where she didn't have to use her wings to maintain her erratic flight pattern.

If she did stand on it it would also work for his plan for he would paint a look of surprise across his face as though that indeed were what the root were meant to do. Either way he would then attempt to look as though he were considering a great dilemma, rubbing his hands over his jaw and scratching at his chin.

"'Ow much for tae pair?"
 
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|| Cillian ||

Those words. Oh, those lovely, melodic, verses went washing over Cadwyn like a balm on sun-scorched skin. It had a different cant to it, a different accent and pace, but it was enough for the tiny fae to understand the gist of it.

Who was he? Her tiny little heart would hammer as fast as a hummingbird's wings, almost not willing to have such a sliver of hope bloom within her soul. Yet the oasis that the stranger would provide by gently placing the root in between the bars of the iron cage and giving her a place to finally land could not be denied. There was so much emotion ringing through her body that Cadwyn couldn't help but burst into a kaleidoscopic array of glowing colors, a near breathtaking display that was enough to give any observer pause. It was almost as if one could practically drink the ambrosia of gratitude and sheer relief Cadwyn felt at simply being able to finally rest without the shroud of death looming over her.

To the Bang Vung, this only confirmed his belief that the root was the real deal, that creepy, toothless grin sweeping over his dark green complexion with putrid satisfaction.

"Well nae, s-seein' d'hat dis 'ere are both rare as can be, once 'as ta appreciate da quality and acquisition," he made a flourish of his fat hand, bringing the webbed digits of his fingers up to stroke his multiple chins.

"Twenty-five gold pieces," a rather bold and large quantity no doubt, especially for this area of the market. However, the hunter was well aware that haggling meant he had to start high as for sure the man would go low.

"Unless-s ya 'ave s-someting' o' value ta trade?"
 
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As luck would have it...

Cillian ran his thumb and finger down either side of his stubbled jaw as if he were in deep thought over the price. In his mind, there was no price that could be paid for one of his kin. Her life was more valuable than all the gold in the world. There were so few of them left, so few Fae who even showed themselves in this world due to the iron that had come to monopolise the people of man. Cilli of course had that much gold on him; there were always some small nuggets of truth in the myths and legends. He would be quite a poor leprechaun if he didn't live up to this one. But if he agreed with the trader it would arouse suspicion and so the game had to be played.

Cillian made a noise in the back of his throat and then began to frown.

"Well, 'tis only a small wisp - if I 'ad wan'ed ah prop'r one, that fella over there be sellin' them, an' he even has 'em in different colours," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder back down the way he had just come then shook his head, jaw working once more as he considered it agonisingly slowly. "So really, mate, I'd be doing yiz a favour by takin' 'er. 'Ows about 15 gold? Or," now Cillian leaned in close, his golden eyes capturing the gaze of the slimy man behind the stand and holding it in his enchanting grip. Once he was sure he had the man's full attention he slyly cast his eyes right then left before back to the man.

"Now I wern't meantae be showin' anyone this but I recognise a fellow man who has a toucha class wenz I sees 'em," he slowly peeled back his coat. On the inside hung a foxes fur that shimmered like gold. "Now 'ere be a Silkenese Fox, this is easily worth 30 pieces of gold."
 
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|| Cillian ||

The Bang Vung’s flat, fishlike eyes seemed to glitter and gleam with piqued, voracious interest. The flat of his purple tongue would flick out, sweeping across his eyelids as if to allow him to get a better look.

There was no denying that the pelt was one of the best Silkenese Fox fur he’d seen. A wonderful catch. The question was if he was willing to take the trade or try and haggle the pelt and perhaps some gold.

Greedy as he could be, the vendor made a gesture of consideration, his webbed hand running across his chins.

“A worthy consideration,” he began, only to then gesture at the fur, “ But while dat pelt is pretty, dat look like a summer coat dan a winter. Not as dhic as a winter. Dhat bring it less dan twenty five gold pieces,” he gave a harrump of thought, weaning the seconds to make a grand gesture of it, “Perhaps da fur and five gold?”
 
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Cillian slapped a hand down on the table as if in anger then waggled his finger at the salesman with a deep chuckle.

"I knew yiz were a proper salesman soons I laid eyes on ye," he made a very dramatic show of sighing and standing up, taking the fox out of his coat and turning it over in his hands slowly. Again, with restraint he held himself back from throwing the skin at the man, taking the cage and getting the hell out of this horrific place. Instead though he set the fur down and then strokes his chin again.

"Even wit' a summer pele' she's still a beauty, would easily get me 30 - maybe even 40 - around these 'ere parts. But, I like ye so 'ows abou' the pelt and I give ye the name of a nice lil lady down the way there who was after one o' them 'nd was waving around 50 gold pieces," he winked.
 
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|| Cillian ||

This was too good to be true! Had to be. Ah, but greed had a way of coloring one's worldview and right now the Bung Vung was mentally calculating the amount of gold he could end up getting at the need of this venture.

A wide, crooked grin cut the thick folds of the froglike humanoid creature, curling three fingers to wag a forth at Cillian.

"Ay like da way yer mind works, young man. Perhaps we can come ta an agreement." he shifted his weight, fluffing the lapels of his shirt with both thumbs. Glancing at the tiny fae, the Bang Vung considered his options. He'd just caught her a few days ago. While he could probably negotiate a higher fee, he wasn't sure what to feed it. Perhaps this was the best of both worlds for his trouble.

"We come to an accordance," He stated, extending out his hand to Cillian in an attempt at a handshake.

Meanwhile, Cadwyn heard the exchange with trembling anxiety. While the well needed rest upon the perch of wood allowed her to catch her breath, she wasn't sure what the end result would be. Was the man buying her to help her or to take her away? The uncertainty of the situation just made her tiny body rapidly shift with different hues.
 
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Cillian took the slimy paw in a strong grasp and shook it once. The Deal was made and once a Deal was made with a Fae, whether knowing or unknowing, it was binding. The Leprechaun gave a crooked disarmingly charming smile before letting go of the frogman's hand and resisting the urge to wipe it clean upon his coat.

"'Er name's Sybil - she 'as blonde hair all done in dreadlocks, black ink on 'er face. Yiz can't miss 'er," Cilli took the cloth and with a flourish put it back over the cage. Until he was out of the market there was no guarantee he would make it out with her without being challenge by another. His old sword rested against his hip underneath the coat but he didn't particularly want to have to get into a fight here. One small scuffle could turn into a whole war. With a two finger salute Cillian picked up the cage and began a casual saunter back towards his wagon.

The cloth helped a little but the iron still burnt into his skin. By the time he got back to his grey pony and little cart there was a nasty red welt down his palm and several sore blisters. He almost dropped the cage when he had the option to and shook out his hand to ease the pain with a series of choice curse words then peeled the cover off.

"Well now lassie, let's see about getting ye outta there, ey?" Cilli slid back into their native tongue now they were alone before he began to rummage about in his toolbox.
 
|| Cillian ||

Who is he? The thought went racing through her mind, hammering in tune with the frantic beat of her heart. Her small wings would flutter with a combination of trepidation, anxiety, and uncertainty. Too much misadventure and stress for the Fae to handle. She was illuminating with such a kaleidoscope of colors under the cloth.

There were hesitation and trepidation resonating within the tiny fae, unsure what to think. She could hear him, but under the shroud, she couldn't see him.

Quickening her flight within the cage when it was placed down, Cadwyn's mind went racing with possibilities. What would she do if he meant her harm? What would she do if he did not?

She was created from the essence of magic itself, and while it could lend her some defenses, she was not properly trained to really make the most of the elemental magic her kind used. By all accounts, Cadwyn was young compared to the others, one of the rare few in a species that took several years before they could procreate, and even then, a successful pregnancy was uncertain. So much of their original lands were being destroyed -- razed, burnt, and ruined by those who saw to use the resources of the forest for their progress.

"...w-who... who are you?" Cadwyn had to use all the intestinal fortitude to try and gather up the courage to speak in the tongue of the ancients. There was a different accent, one or two words not quite the same as what Cillian would know, but the foundation was there.
 
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"Cillian, please tae meet ye properly lassie," the leprechaun's brows were pulled down into a frown of concentration as he worked. His shoemaker tools were delicate and fine enough to work the lock on the cage and he thought, belatedly, that it would have been smart to have asked for the key. Not that he would have been able to touch it, he mused. There were a few soft clicks and then a soft pop echoed through the iron bars and the door swung outwards.

Cillian shifted himself out of the way and then made a small flourish with his hands towards the outside world.

"I wouldnae recommend flyin' off on yer on jus' yet, bu' if you tell me where yiz from me and old Froufrou here can ge' ye there," he smiled and patted the dapple grey cobs wide rump. The mare gave a small snort, blowing the long mane that covered her face and making it entirely possible to tell how she actually saw where she was going.
 
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|| Cillian ||

It took a few seconds to get used to the light, Cadwyn glancing about her with uncertainty at first. At least, until he managed to break the lock and swung open the door to her freedom.

Her lower lip gave a tremble. There was such utter exhaustion, relief, and a spark of hope in her tiny body. Was he really setting me free?

Tentatively, her wings gave a flutter, floating her forward and out of the terrible cage that had caused her such grief and pain. She'd appear as a soft glow of blue light, the slightest tell of a womanly figure under the natural bioluminescence of her kind.

"Cillian... Thank you," Cadwyn replied with genuine sincerity, coming to a perch on the wagon. She gave a glance around as if to try to gather her bearings until she caught sight of the state of his hands. They were blistered, swollen, and red, holding tools that had managed to break the lock of her iron prison.

Immediately her eyes went wide, and a flash of color shot from her being in alarm. Darting into the air despite her exhaustion, she began to flutter and zip alongside his hands, her own wringing in growing distraught.

"Your hands! You're hurt!"
 
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Gods she were so bright.

Cillian had to squint against the bright almost painful light for a few seconds before his eyes adjusted and he could make out the faintest of traces of a woman's silhouette. He wasn't as knowledgeable on his own kind as he really ought to be but he had a few ideas about what she could be - Will'O The Wisps was not one of them like that wretched trader had sold her as. But then, he could be wrong. There weren't many of their kind left in these here parts.

"Aye don't mention i-" he broke off when she exclaimed. Her voice was like a thousand tiny pleasant bells and he realised, quite suddenly, how much he had missed the sound of the ancient tongue. They may have spoken different branches of it but it were enough to get by and Cillian was more than content with that. He looked down at his tools and the hands in which he grasped them. They did look pretty bad. Slowly he set his equipment down and then rubbed them together.

"No worse than wha' ye suffered in there lassie," he nodded towards the cage and then picked up his driving crop and pushed the wretched thing over the side of the cart and onto the grass beyond with a soft thud. "T'were worth it, I'll be alrigh' in a few days dinnae ye worry," he grinned. "Nows, can I be so bold as tae ask for your name?" Names were a precious thing amongst their people, he would understand if she did not wish to part with it.
 
|| Cillian ||

Oh there was so much rushing through Cadwyn’s mind. Like the probability that perhaps he was also fae along with the concern that came with wanting to help him in turn for what he did for her.

Darting left and right with the deftness of a hummingbird, the small, glowing figure of the fae seemed to whip back and forth between an amber hue of concern and a whirl of blue in piqued curiously and interest. Likely not a sight anyone would be used to, and perhaps for someone enough to cause a headache but the fae changed colors with her mood.

Cadwyn,” she replied, although that was not her true name. True names held power, and to reveal them meant a great measure of trust and vulnerability. She gave him instead the name to be used to commonly address her.

I’m sorry I don’t have any healing powers,” not yet exactly. Those came with time.

But I can try and find herbs to help with your palms.” That thought came first before she suddenly came to a hover.

How do you know the ancient tongue?” She had an inkling,there were clues, but asking made it clear.
 
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A slight pounding began behind his left eye as the colours grew not only intensity but then began to shift through a cycle. There were glasses he knew that people wore to shield their eyes from the sun when it was in an eclipse and he wondered, absentmindedly, whether he should invest in a pair to use if he found himself in her - Cadwyn's - company for longer than a day or two. Or he feared he might lose use of his sight. Still, a lad could hardly blame the little one after all she had been through. Cilli imagined he would be in quite a similar state if it had been him.

"A pleasure tae meet ye lassie," Cilli took off the hat he still wore and placed it over his heart, giving a curt bow as were proper. He looked once more to his hands and then waved off her worry with a cocky smile, setting his hat on the set of the cart and then hurling himself up into it.

"Dinnae worry ye'self 'bout it Cadwyn, I'm not bothered 'bout gettin' as far away from 'ere as possible," he jerked his thumb in the direction of the distant market. He had left his cart a fairs way out but it would make him feel a lot better if they put more distance between them. With care he took the driving reins in his hand and gently clicked his tongue, urging the gypsy cob into a walk. Once they were moving, he answered her more pressing question.

"Leprechaun, Lass," he tapped the penny at his throat once more, tilting his chin even so that she could get close in order to examine it herself. "I know, long way from home, eh?" he chuckled. His kind were not known to walk the mainlands, or at least they hadn't been doing so for several millennia now.
 
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|| Cillian ||

So he was a Leprechaun?! The giddiness and surprise that grew in her heart only reflected in the joyful azure glow that Cadwyn radiated. A wide smile grew over her face, already easily forgetting the woes from before. Such was the life of her kind, more focused on the good than the bad, blessing the former and punishing the latter.

Which, truth be told, would serve the Bang Vung right should she curse him!

Either way, Cadway went flinting in a more reasonable flight path from Cillian over to Froufrou. If there was anything that drew Cadwyn's fancy were shiny things and creatures such as horses. The instinctive desire to braid its mane fought in conflict with the shinny penny Cillian had tapped at his throat.

"I never met any!" she admitted, deciding to hold off on the braiding of the horse's mane and instead came back to hover by Cillian's face.

"Heard the stories, but never seen one," there was a slight cant to her head to the right, and her hues thankfully grew dimmer in mild contemplation.

"You're big." she then flew to a stop a dozen centimeters from the tip of his nose. If he wasn't feeling cross-eyed, he'd be able to see her shape a little better. Heartshaped face, twin hazel eyes, and hair that seemed to dance like the very flames of a fire. An even closer inspection would reveal the tiny burn marks that littered her arms, legs, and a portion of her wings that the iron had left in its wake.

"Not small."
 
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Froufrou didn't seem to mind the tiny little wisp of a person hovering about her head, though she did give the occasional flick of the ear when her little wafer wings tickled at the sensitive hairs there. Cillian watched in mild amusement as Cadwyn seemed torn between what to give her attention to. Fae were fickle things no matter where they were on the complicated social or courtly structures, but he was glad the distractions seemed to be cheering her up. The sooner memories of that dreadful cage left her the better the road to recovery.

"We don't tend to leave our Isle very often," Cilli admitted and watched as she zoomed in close to inspect the shiny coin about his throat. His eyes drew in together but it didn't turn his vision blurry probably in part to how she dimmed her lights so they were not quite so intense. Even still, he did have to blink a couple of times to get a focus on her form, though when he noticed her wounds he couldn't help but frown. Every little mark made him tighten his grip upon the reins and contemplate turning back to deal three-fold upon the toadman who had inflicted them.

Such a creature could not be forgiven. He hoped it would be soon the bad luck he had imbued into the foxes pelt would soon begin to rub off on the vile man.

"Cadwyn ye should rest," his voice was soft but there was a firmness to his tone. He was thinking primarily about the tear in her wing. "If yiz rest upon me shoulder 'ere I'll tell ya 'ow the story started about our heigh'," he winked.
 
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|| Cillian ||

It was true indeed, the fae were fickle things and even a scrap of ribbon was enough to garner their attention for hours. In this case, Cadwyn's attention flew from the shiny penny towards the shoulder he offered for a perch.

With glee, the small bundle of glowing light went zipping over towards a broad shoulder, tiny bare feet, delicately setting down upon the leather of his cloak. Such was her delight that she even spun on the ball of her foot in a little spin, flopping down onto her bottom in a small burst of bioluminescence from her wings.

"Ohh, stories! I love stories!" Cadwyn responded with an eagerness that would bath her entire face, tiny ears twitching in anticipation. Finding a spare of loose, dark locks from Cillian's head, the tiny fae promptly took a few strands in hand and began to separate them into three plaits. The braiding of Cillian's hair began soon after.
 
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Cillian chuckled: of course she loved stories, all Fae loved stories. It was just such luck the devilish leprechaun was a master at the art of weaving them.

"Well," he settled back into the drivers seat and settled the reins in his lap to keep FauFau on course. "Ye see lass, years ago there were plen'y of us walkin' these lands. Tis true what they say, we do love gold, but we were more than that. We were the protectors of some of the grea'est hoards in tae world, even some dragons used us to guard their gold. Probably more like knights than tae stories ye hear about us now as lil folk gran'ing wishes and wit a pot'o gold. But after a while our people drifted back to our own Isles - humans wanted to harness our magics and use it for tae wrong reasons," he mused on the thought for a little while, chewing on his bottom lip before continuing.

"Anyways, in order tae protect herself tere was a leprechaun named Finwick 'nd it was he who came up wit tae idea to leave behind stories that would erase what we really were, 'nd replace 'em with the stories the kiddies sing now. It means I can walk these lands wit'out behind bothered as much," he grinned. "T'were a beautiful bard was Finwick. My favourite song o' his were of a leprechaun stealin' a silver spoon - it was actually based off me uncle Ferg who once took all tae silver out of a palace when the queen refused to bed 'im."
 
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|| Cillian ||

Entranced, Cadwyn slowed the construction of Cillian's plait, eyes widening as the natural tenor of the Leprachan's voice seemed to wash over her with such spellbinding quality. The Fae were gifted in many aspects, be it with magic, beauty, crafting of the arts, or simply blessed.

Cillian was blessed with a voice with a unique accent that could make a bubbling brook weep in jealousy, those long-voweled syllables caressing the shell of Cadwyn's pointed ears. It was enough to elicit a measure of joy not just at the tale, but at the way it was delivered, her wings giving an excited flutter that sent glowing bits of magic in the air. They went dancing along the wind, catching and dusting along Cillian's shoulders and hair, blessing him with an uplifting mood that may very well match hers.

At least, until he got to the part of the story where humans turned greedy and sought to take fae magic as their own. A scowl grew upon her delicate visage, and her hair seemed to flow and drift in an increase of emotion, a small brightening of her glow.

"So humans are the cause of all this!?"
she cried, equally anxious and alarmed, forgetting to continue the braid of Cillian's hair. As mentioned before, Cadwyn felt emotions and those emotions seemed to overwhelm her. There was only so much in that tiny body to feel at one time. What she felt was felt passionately, and it showed.

Then the tale changed and the trick that Finwick played made her laugh. Jubilation replaced the distress, and she chuckled.

"So that's why they all seem to be stories!" That made sense. Of course, at the mention of all the silver taken from a Queen, she gave a gasp, both tiny hands coming up to cover her mouth.

"Not all the shinies!!?"
 
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