#ALSO FLORAS JACKET IS SO GOOD IT LOOKS LIKE EITHER ROSES OR WEIRD FUNGI MUSHROOMS I LOVE IT

[mango-ti]

OMG

[toxic-lucky]

There.

He stood in a circle made of dull coloured mushrooms that outlined the divide between the grass of the forest, and the brighter, healthier grass inside. In the circle, the grass seemed, if it was not already, burgeoning, flourishing, especially when in contrast the frosty yellow-green grass that made up the trampled forest floor. He was there in the circle everyday, or at least whenever you passed by. Every night, for around a couple of weeks, you would walk through the forest and find him sitting there in that ring of fungi. He always seemed lost in thought, eyes staring at something not quite there. Without daring to approach him, you hid in the forest flora. Occasionally checking to see if he was still there every time you would pass him. In your village, those like him were well warned against. Tricksters, trouble makers, Sìthichean, Fa-

His eyes met yours. Your gut convulsed in apprehension and uncertainty. A smirk splayed across his face as if he knew exactly what you felt, standing up and walked to the edge of the ring. “Are you going to stand and stare all day? Come on, hiding behind a tree doesn’t suit a lass of your status.”

The silence you gave him caused him to frown, as you stayed rooted in place. “I know you’re there hummingbird,” his tone was sing-song, obviously seeing this as some kind of joke with his eyes narrowing as he placed his hands on his hips and leaned forwards towards where you hid. “It’s rude to ignore someone when they’re speaking to you.”

Your body started up again similar to a cold engine, though instead of stepping forward as one might have been compelled to do, you turn tail and ran. Bare feet thumping against the chilly forest grass, heart set on getting back into the warm home and never coming back outside into the forest ever again. You knew it was a bad idea to check on the mystery stranger, but did you ever listen to your common sense? No.

Then the moon rose again, and you found yourself sneaking out once more and walking back to where he sat under her guidance. Pixie ring, that’s what the circles of mushrooms were called. Asking mother about it is how you learnt, giving you a weird look and a warning. ‘You better stay out of those, they are made by the witch and her spells. Do you want to be trapped?’ though it didn’t deter you as hoped, instead a flimsy excuse of ‘I read something like that in a story book my tutor brought. I’m sorry for the worry caused.’ and you were back to disregarding common sense.

“I thought little ladies were taught better than to peep.” He smiled as he easily found me staring back at him, in hiding once again, “tut, tut, little hummingbird. So troublesome.”

“I-” face flushed out of embarrassment, “you- you have no right to speak to me like that!”

“Oh? And who do I speak to? Would you give me your name? I’d love to have it.” There it was, the sly smirk again, as if he knew what tricks were being played.

“I shall have you know, I am-” you immediately clasp both your hands over your mouth before you could even think about uttering another word. Lady Aphria, the stupid little girl that gave her name to what seemed like a fae. He didn’t need to know your name. Names held power after all, the ability to become, control, and order the other around on a whim by simple knowing a word. “I... am no one. No one at all. My name, It is of little importance, you should not bother with such things. I should not be speaking-”

“Yet you don’t seem to hold your tongue?” The smug grin was clear on the red-haired male’s face, voicing his mockery, “so, ‘no one’, why come back?”

You stare at him, silently. He huffed and crossed his arms, “you do know the trouble a Hummingbird like yourself can get into when found, so why come back? Better yet, if you’re going to stick around giving me the silent treatment you might as well sit down. I can speak of many things for many hours.”

“Are you a storyteller, fae?” The question came out of your mouth in such an innocent tone, it seemed as if he was surprised, or at least confused.

“So you know? Smart Hummingbird, very smart. No, I am not one of these ‘storytellers’ you speak of. I merely enjoy sharing my experiences-”

“That’s the same thing.”

“So be it, I do not stoop to such, uh, mortal titles.” He waved his hand as if to disperse the idea from the area around him.

With the silence hanging in the air, you sat down on the grass using your black jacket as a blanket to sit on. You had time before sunrise parted the inky sky, before you had to run home, and nothing better to do with the time spent awake. Any fear you felt previously seemed to have dissipated for the moment, giving way to your curiosity.

“So you wish to listen?” At the prompting of the question, you nod. The fae sat down in front of you with a soft sigh, remaining in the ring like always. He soon filled the silence with wonderful stories of a world where time moves slowly and was filled with joy. Where people never aged, nor felt discomfort. Painting worlds filled with colours and life through words and hand actions. You found yourself quickly engrossed in the tales. Despite his claims of not being a storyteller he certainly knew how to spin an entertaining tale. Perhaps it wasn’t tale at all, but truth. Your brain didn’t get much thinking done on that though, becoming fuzzy with the new information attempting to be understood as the tale continued you closed your eyes- just for a moment- in hopes that it would help.

Then you woke up at home, tucked into the warm and cozy blankets that covered your bed. It was your house, though you didn’t remember falling asleep or walking home at all. There was a small thought in the back of your head, questioning if what happened last night was truly real and not part of some elaborate dream your mind made up. No, on the chair in the corner of your room was your jacket, and to the touch was still damp and smelled like the forest. There were also leaves in your unruly bed head along with a small purple scabiosa tucked behind your ear. It all stood out against your black hair, and brought a small smile to your face. Sneaking into the washroom was easy, brushing the tangled leaves that decorated your long hair and messy braids were another thing. Slipping the flower in a nightgown pocket, a jarring knocking on the door invaded the silence and brought you back to reality.

“Give me a moment!” You made sure your voice was loud enough to be heard through the wooden door, the only response was a loud groan of irritation from your older brother, Owyn. Older by three years, he acted like he owned the place- and he did to some extent as the oldest and only son. A baron wishing to be a knight, what kind of dreams did he hold? Always training, always studying, always having to be at the top of everything. You knew it was just for him to get a chance at being a knight, though the feeling of inferiority still wormed into you now and again.

Stepping out, braids tightened and done proper this time, though still in the nightgown you give Owyn a strange look, “up a little early, are we?”

“Up a little late more so,” He pointed at you accusingly, “you’re always awake before me, yet not today. Why is that?”

“Is it so wrong for a lady to wish for more beauty sleep?”

“Beauty sleep? Then you should need more, have you broken the mirror taking so long?”

That reminded you of something the fae said a while ago. ‘The moon is not meant for those who thrive in the sun, you should rest under her protection instead of being foolish.’ or, more accurately, it was probably meant something more like ‘go to bed, you have to be awake in the day. Stop being a moron.’

You let out a small gasp of fake offense, causing him to grin and push you out of the way, closing the bathroom door behind him. “You cannot outrun such a scorn, ‘tis disgrace!” pounding the door once for good measure before retreating back into your room to get changed. You could hear mother from downstairs, yelling something. Probably for the both of you to be quiet, or to come down for breakfast and behave.

Glancing at your desk, you notice the work that used to be a small pile had condensed into a much larger pile, taking up more than half of the working space. Normally you would work on it at night, but lately you were busy. Reprimand after reprimand, it never worked to focus you. It was boring, and painful sometimes to go through such daily motions. Sometimes there would be bruises on your wrists from the tutor’s irritation.

A week passed and the flower stayed with you through the days. Every single time the moon rose, you found yourself yearning to escape into the forest and your body forces you to follow such a silly desire, almost against your will. You would sit in silence listening to the stories of the otherworld, land of promise, Tír Tairngire. You would either walk back home after cutting him off after a sentence, or find yourself waking up in your bed, wondering if your mind went to far once again. Just for a moment.

That night, wearing the withering scabiosa tied around your pinkie finger, you found yourself taking steps back to the forest. With no attempt to resist, you easily found your way back to the pixie ring along the now compressed and winding trail. By extent you also found the fae who remained in the circle.

“Ah, Hummingbird!” He actually seemed a little startled when you simply sat down outside of the ring instead of hiding and waiting for him to call you out. Though, maybe it was because of something he said last night? You couldn’t recall. “Feeling more bold today than usual it appears. Why do you come back?” That question, ‘why did you come back?’ seemed to be a favourite of his, every time you came back that was your greeting. You never bothered to respond, giving a shrug and a noise that didn’t carry any weight before you sat down and he continued with his stories of home. Not this time though.

“I have an unanswered question actually.” You announce, sitting down and crossing your legs looking at the taller fae.

“Oh? And what is it? Should I be concerned Hummingbird?” The fae, as usual, seemed nonchalant and relaxed. Raising an eyebrow as he eyed you like one would read a book, looking to see if he could figure it out before it was spoken.

“It has been a while, and I think calling you ‘the fae’ is not the nicest-” “no duh.-” “ and I was wondering, if you would give me the honour of knowing one of your names, what should I be calling you?” The red-haired fae seemed shocked, his expression hardening as he squinted at the ground.

“You wish to call me a name?” He asked, “but why? Wouldn’t giving me a nickname be so much more easy?”

“We are friends, are we not?” The question was met with silence from him, your gut clenched thinking you had said something wrong. “ I wish for the name to be comfortable to you. You can call me Aphi in return if it makes things better.”

The pregnant pause lasted longer than you wished, unable to read his thoughts you were left to sit in silence for a little longer. His face was unreadable, emotionless despite the fact he was obviously feeling something. “I’m sorry that was out of line.” You apologized as it seemed he wasn’t going to speak anytime soon. He was still silent, looking at the ground. His eyes had the same look that you observed prior to talking to him. Looking at something far away, that could never be possessed. “I shall take my leave, I apologize for being a bother tonight.”

With that now what was left hanging in the air, you stand up and brush off your dress. Glancing once more at the sitting fae before turning around and walking back to your home while the night was still young.

“Beagan…” You didn’t turn around at the quiet voice of the fae, but did halt.

“You can call me that. Beagan.” A little louder this time, no doubt the fae- er Beagan was the one speaking. Glancing behind you, he still stared at the ground in front of him but with a tiny smile on his face now.

“Goodnight Beagan.” You smile at the boy who looked embarrassed, walking back and breaching the pixie circle for the first time. It felt warm. Messing up Beagan’s red hair, you smile down at him, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The shocked look on his face was priceless, as you turn to walk away you couldn’t help but smile.

You finally had something to call him by.