#And his jaw somehow regrew

[skydreamplayzz]

Blood :D🎀

Just Ocs being Best buddies✨/j

I would have done much more but my Phone decided not to Support me😭💔..

[dreams-of-the-arcana]

I’ve had the mental image of Fae Cleo in my mind for days so here’s a short fic ❤️ loosely a sequel to this:

Forget-Me-Nots in Our Secret Moment

If you asked any of the villagers out in the Vesuvian forest edge, they’d tell you that the forest did seem more... alive. No one could quite place their finger on the exact changes but something was different. Gatherers seemed to come back with more in their baskets than before. Their known spots for edible fruit or plants almost regrew faster than they had only a short time ago.

Of course, the older residents whispered amongst themselves that it must be Fae influence. Who else could? But they knew that Fae didn’t help for nothing and a growing concern spread amongst them on what was being taken in exchange.

The elders had forbidden their children from going into the forest to seek the Fae.

“The price is always more than you expect!” They warned their offspring from a young age.

“Stay in our part of the forest, leave the Fae to theirs.”

Most listened, some didn’t, it was expected that a few would push the boundary intentionally or not.

What was the threat of a story to a small child faced with a test of courage? What did they expect when the boundary was so vague? When a young person went looking for something and noticed the fruit or flowers over in one area seemed so much better than those closer.

Sometimes they’d wander back after a time, confused or restless. A spark had been lit in their eyes that nothing the small village could match. None of the Fae-Touched, as they were called, stayed in the village for very long.

No one had gone missing though and nothing seemed amiss. So rumors and concern were kept hushed and the elders waited.

Muriel of the Kokhuri might have laughed if he knew what knots the elders were tying themselves in trying to discover the reasons behind the change. But he never did spend much time in the main village.

Lately, he didn’t even spend as much time at home. Khamgalai didn’t ask where he spent his days now, after being sick for so long she assumed he’d found ways to keep himself entertained. A bit of suspicion entered her mind but she trusted that Muriel would talk when he was ready. Because she could see it in his eyes, the touch of the Fae.

Muriel didn’t want to talk about her though. His visits into the woods felt like a secret that he didn’t have to share with anyone. He’d never had a secret before and somehow it made him protective over these rendezvous. Once someone else knew, he’d have to share her and he wasn’t ready for that.

The way through the forest past the boundary had grown softer under his many journeys. A path began behind his little hut in the dense green trees with ferns littering the ground. The big leaves made perfect covers. This part of the forest was darker as the thick trees blocked out most of the sun. The path moved through them and into a less crowded part of the forest. Flowers grew on the floor here and he’d pause to collect a few most days. The little blue Forget-Me-Nots were his favorite but he’d also bring daffodils, or tulips, or rock cress. On good days, he found roses. Beautiful white roses with thick petals and flowers almost the size of his palm.

Today he stopped by the rose bush and found one flowering perfectly, while the rest still waited for the right moment.

Once his small bouquet was in hand, he followed along the small stream towards a clearing. A large weeping willow hung over the stream and beside it laid a small meadow. Red capped mushrooms drew his eye to the circle in the middle where he hurried over to.

Softly he placed the bouquet in the middle, careful to only put his hand in the circle. Then he waited.

Gentle breezes rustled the ground and brought the smell of wisteria to him. In a blink, there she was.

The Fae was called Cleo and looked fairly human in her proportions. That made her inhuman features all the more noticeable. Long red curls fell to her feet and defied gravity, her hair floated around her it seemed. Muriel had never seen skin so pale and under the sun it sparkled. Her ears were long and pointed away from her head and those eyes were impossibly green. Most of that felt like nothing though in comparison with the two curly horns growing a top her head and the pupils of her eyes were slits like a cat.

“Mm, how lovely, Muriel~”

Her voice sounded like music from an instrument he could only dream of.

“The roses you like had a bloom.”

Cleo pulled the rose to her nose and smiled.

“Indeed, it’s beautiful.”

Muriel tried to hide his own smile by reaching into his bag.

“I brought the dessert we talked about last time, the Boortsog. Khamgalai taught me when we settled here. We try to keep the old traditions alive.”

Muriel blushed slightly as he offered the cloth containing the treats to Cleo. She seemed to bounce in excitement and gently took one. A blissful look took over her face once she ate it and she closed her eyes to enjoy the moment.

“... what do you taste?” Muriel absently asked out loud before blushing deeper.

“It’s just that... you always seem to... uh...”

Cleo grinned and let him stumble over his words a moment.

“I taste the sun on the growing grains,” she began. “The earth from where it was born. I can taste the first gentle breeze on the cow’s face. The flowers where the bees gathered pollen to make the honey. In this bite, I taste the energy you put into making these for me. Your hopes that I would enjoy it. It taste like life to me, a life made better with you in it.”

She stared into his eyes with such intensity that Muriel couldn’t dare look away.

Slowly he leaned towards her and she happily met him at the edge of the circle.

When he pressed his lips to hers, he tasted the sweetness of the honey from the boortsog. Muriel’s hand reached up to slip into her hair and rest at the base of her head. Idly he wondered if this was the real Fae food the elders had always warned him about because once he’d tasted Cleo’s lips he never craved others.

Cleo’s kisses were playful and passionate, she gently nipped his lower lip and they both smiled.

Muriel pulled away first, he always had to. Cleo tried to move with him to prolong their contact but stopped at the end of the red caps. He dragged his hand slowly from her hair to cup her jaw where she then twisted to press a small kiss into his palm.

All around them, little blue flowers sprang to life from the earth. In a moment the entire meadow filled with the gentlest forget-me-nots as the lovers shared their secret time.