Afternoon sun shone lazily through the window of the little cottage, illuminating motes of dust in the air like tiny sprites. The light also illuminated the flaxen hair of Faerynne, who was lying languidly in the crisp white sheets of her rumpled bed.
She stared at the shining specs of dust, smiling, at peace. That was, until, there was yet another knock at the door.
Immediately, that grin turned into a scowl at the interruption to her rest. Running her fingers through her blonde locks to try and neaten them, she padded over to the wooden door and opened it with a deadpan expression on her face.
Lae-Lae stood on the doorstep, fiery curls tied into two adorable buns perched high upon her head. Upon seeing Faerynne, she squeaked in joy, clapped her hands, and bobbed up and down excitedly on the spot.
“I heard you got paid! Let’s go to the market!” She cried out, grabbing the blonde elf’s hands and almost dragging her out the door.
Faerynne was once again smiling at this point, and laughed as she was rushed out of the house and down towards the village market.
The market was a patchwork of brightly-coloured tents and stalls. Vivid spices and succulent looking produce were displayed, alongside sparkling trinkets and gorgeous shades of pigment, used for adorning the face.
Lae-Lae’s mother had joined them, and the trio ambled through the vibrant pathways, chattering companionably.
“What will you buy? I suggest a unicorn plushie. Or a tiara” mused Lae-Lae.
Faerynne chuckled at that, and patted a particularly large pumpkin that a stall owner was trying to flog her. It would make for a good soup she thought to herself.
Then, a shrill cry pierced the tranquil scene.
Lae-Lae clamped her hands over her ears, and cried:
“What was that!?”
Faerynne immediately turned towards the source of the sound, and started running towards it. Another cry sounded; it appeared to be coming from the centre of the marketplace.
Coming to a halt at the central tent, she caught her breath and looked around.
A child had evidently been climbing where he shouldn't have been. The little boy had storm grey eyes, full of tears, and he occasionally emitted a loud wail from his perch clinging to a rope near the roof. A woman, presumably the boy’s guardian, was frantically trying to reach the terrified child - but he was just out of her grasp.
Faerynne instinctively knew what she needed to do. Hair wildly swirling around her shoulders, she kicked off from the ground, taking flight.
She swooped to the little boy and, grasping underneath his armpits, gently lifted him up, and then down until his feet touched the ground. His guardian, who at this point was inconsolable, babbled her thanks and hugged the child close.
A group of villagers who had been at the scene burst into applause. Faerynne looked rather abashed at this, pink blush rising in her cheeks.
Then, a girl with brown hair and eyes like the ocean, stepped forwards.
“Not bad” commented Selinewyn, giving Faerynne a half smile. Faerynne, at that very moment, felt like she wished the ground would swallow her up.
“It was nothing…” mumbled the blonde elf, surreptitiously tying her hair back into a bun to try to neaten it.
“Looked like something to me. Learn to take praise when it is earned.” At that, Selinewyn turned on her heel and left the area. Faerynne watched her leave, before looking down at her side where Lae-Lae had quietly crept.
“That’s the village head’s daughter” Lae-Lae stated, matter-of-factly.
Faerynne’s stomach dropped at that.
“She was a lady, before she got her powers. She lives in that tower, over there.”
Faerynne looked towards the marble tower in the distance. She recalled her lessons in politics:
Nobility must shed their titles and commence studies in the art of magick, if spark of magick ignites within them.
Swallowing audibly, she looked down at Lae-Lae. The red-haired child smiled up at her, and said:
“Now. Unicorn plushie, or tiara?”
Later that evening, Faerynne was combing her hair whilst looking at herself in the mirror. Brown eyes, shot with gold, stared back at her from the silver-backed glass.
The sky over Felicitas-In-Gloam was a blanket of dark velvet, with pinpricks of white stars embroidered at intervals. Faerynne, finally, returned to her bed once more, lying amongst the covers and staring at the blank ceiling.
Former nobility, then. As well as a competent sorceress. She certainly is… interesting.
A small smile graced her lips as she thought.
Maybe she finds me interesting too.
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