"An’ I dae stress m’ apologies —”
Halfhearted and lacking, unbelievable due to the grin, from tiny little toes to tiny little frostbitten fingertips, she was buzzing with mischief. “Really, thank th’ forest ye didnae encounter a rock in ‘t, aye? Consider ‘t a gift from th’ Yuletide God, an’ continue oan yer merry, merry way.”
A tree that had been dripping with gold like a river on fire. Boxes, wrapped beautifully and kept secret were things that almost drove her crazy.
Having been caught, she moved until she was laying underneath the tree, grinning crookedly with a peppermint stick poking out of the corner of her mouth, “Ach, c’mon, m’lady, ye’d like tae see whit’s in there, I ken ye woul’ — nae ane has tae ken. Well worth ‘t.”
It had been horrific; multiple wings, something that looked like an arm and two sticks for legs. She grimaced the second she got up, more from the fact that she’d laid in the snow at all than her finished product.
She was a faerie before she was an artist and even when she made something ugly, she was proud over it.
"Think ‘t looks like ye a bi’," was spoken, only after she’d retreated under every blanket he had in the house, "Mus’ b’ th’ skinny legs."
She could only look on with a mild smile and her long fingers steepling before her, making something of a house-like shape. Freydis chuckled, low in her throat and watched the girl with a sharp eye.
"Cannae promise ‘nythin’. Chief daes sound loverly, na? Well worth it, I dae think —”
Brows raising, she picked at her fingernail with her teeth, her smile turning into slyness and her mind turning into mischief.
"I will dae naethin’ tae make yer village fall — ye’ll dae ‘t yerselves, soon, ‘M sure ae tha’."
From foot to breast she’d admit there had been nothing but bone. Stuck out like a sore thumb in her gauntness, she turned to face Una and gave her a once-over, nodding in acknowledgment.
"Aye, bi’ unlucky."
And she gave a grandiose gesture around her middle, her eyebrows raising upward in mock panic, “Ach, nae, I’ll start tae look like ye ‘fer th’ day’s out! White’er will I dae?” She’d eat enough to not die, but never enough to gorge herself.
"Dae ye aim tae make me a fat, useless thing like a hooscat?"
She eyed him warily, clutching the garment she’d been wearing previously within her fists.
"Aye. I hav’ been underground. Whit’s yer excuse, then?”
There was a rumble in the sea and the sun drifted behind a cloud. A hound’s bark in the distance, a siren’s song in the wind through the grass.
She’d been caught like a deer in a trap and damned if she didn’t feel honesty gnawing at the backs of her ankles. Fixing her mouth into a small line and then an even smaller smirk, she perched on Una’s shoulder.
"An’ tae whit dae I owe, lass?"
After all, a crow could at least attempt to talk itself out of the wolf’s mouth.
And she had, from the very second she met him.
She could offer nothing else than a shrug, an impish little grin, and a fool’s promise the second she extended her littlest finger out to him.
"Aye, I dae. Promise ye tha’ much."
…. wow i didn’t —
i’m — jfc yes.
(imagine her pulling a sirius and calling one of the children by their parent’s name.)
She found him through a crack in the door and wrapped with the scent of sugar and cheese.
Naked as the day he was born, sleeping as soundly as a baby and more youthful than the season of summer itself, he laid out tribute and played into her faerie greed and she’d fallen for it easily enough by storing as much sugar as she could in her cheeks and taking whatever else she could in her arms.
Naked, he was.
Milk and ocean, muscle and curve; her summer boy.
"Idiot," she muttered through clenched teeth, "Why’re ye naked..?"
She knew, just as she imagined a bleached band across her finger and apples greeting her near the brine of the sea. “Och.” It was never really a faerie’s life, even if it was in jest.
She left her summer boy snoring with his how’s-yer-father sticking out, a happy face conjured by impish magick painted on the underside. She left him with a ghosting kiss to his lips and his neck and his sugar and cheese arranged neatly on his chest.
The word it spelled out was, naturally, “No.”