Private Tales Moonlit Moths

[Curcurbita]

"No, I suppose I won't."
He mused and let a long moment of silence pass.
"I'll do my best, as I can and hope for their well being."
Another long moment passed and he figured a bit on the shoreline.
"I'm sorry but, have I asked you your name yet? My memory is not what it was, at least I think it used to be better."
A gnarled hand rubbed the soft flesh of his gourd.

 

[Irkalla]

When Curcurbita asked for Irkalla's name, her head sunk as it remained turned toward the lake.

A gentle breeze picked up - caressing the water's surface.

"Call me Irkalla," she commanded.

Her glowing eyes turned to Curcurbita.

"If you can remember, scream it and I shall appear," she told him.

A breath.

"May your time in the Autumn Court be safe," she then told the pumpkin headed fae.

 

[Curcurbita]

The idea of screaming anything did not appeal but he supposed if it was life or death he might not have much choice.
"Yes, I shall but only if I need it. I won't be calling on you just because I'm lonely. heh heh."
She seemed so serious about it all. Perhaps something had happened to upset her.
Perhaps he had upset her!
"You don't look happy!"
He unknowingly echoed his own introduction.

 

[Irkalla]

A moth fluttered across Curcurbita's view. The pumpkin repeated his greeting. Somberness returned to Irkalla's face.

"Do not mind my appearance," Irkalla ordered him.

A brown moth floated over to Curcurbita to land on the stem of his gourd.

"You should go before you are late," Irkalla warned Curcurbita.

 

[Curcurbita]

"Yes I suppose I should..."
He turned, walked ten paces then turned back.
"Do you know what I'm late for exactly? I eh, well!"
Again he tapped his hollow gourd.
He cut a comic figure in the moonlight, slim and gangly and just a little embarassed.

Irkalla