If it hadn’t been for Maea’s smile and continued explanation, Rance might have started his frustrated pacing and ranting all over again. Out of respect for the person taking pity on him, he stayed silent during her explanation of the portals and their magic, though he jaw visibly tightened and his eyes widened again. He was a … copy? A duplicate made by the wayward magic set and abandoned by an unknown god? Instead of tapping, his fingers curled in as he unconsciously clenched his hand in a fist.
He followed the motion of the leaves, the curl of what he assumed was air lifting them. He’d suspected Maea held some power, so this display only confirmed what he’d already assumed. Oddly, it put him a bit more at ease and his jaw unclenched, expression relaxing. If she had turned out to be merely a human, he would have felt more wary about revealing more details about himself. He was already putting more trust in a stranger than he normally would, but Maea had arrived at just the right time and Rance had been desperate for answers.
He listened to her listing of the races, memorizing the names, though the mention of each connection the the gods meant little to him. The description of the Attuned made him start a bit. This world had its own shifters, then? He nodded as she seemed to finish, noting the unhappy flicker in her voice and expression. More questions began to pile in his thoughts, but before they even formed words, the Fae were brought up. Here Rance startled again, but her description sat like a rock in his chest. So, the Fae here were only like the Sidhe, were they?
“Ah, the most obvious change is the one I mentioned: my cloak.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a rueful half smile, the truth of his position a flicker in the back of his mind. “I’m fae — or was, in my world. A raven, though I could look like this, if I took my feathers off. And since I can still do this—” He transformed, croaked up at Maea, then transformed back in a ruffle of black feathers. The incomplete smile was still on his face as he leaned back, letting his frustration out by digging his fingers into the forest floor behind him and utterly failing to look casual about it.
“Am I right in assuming the Fae here don’t do that?”
He followed the motion of the leaves, the curl of what he assumed was air lifting them. He’d suspected Maea held some power, so this display only confirmed what he’d already assumed. Oddly, it put him a bit more at ease and his jaw unclenched, expression relaxing. If she had turned out to be merely a human, he would have felt more wary about revealing more details about himself. He was already putting more trust in a stranger than he normally would, but Maea had arrived at just the right time and Rance had been desperate for answers.
He listened to her listing of the races, memorizing the names, though the mention of each connection the the gods meant little to him. The description of the Attuned made him start a bit. This world had its own shifters, then? He nodded as she seemed to finish, noting the unhappy flicker in her voice and expression. More questions began to pile in his thoughts, but before they even formed words, the Fae were brought up. Here Rance startled again, but her description sat like a rock in his chest. So, the Fae here were only like the Sidhe, were they?
“Ah, the most obvious change is the one I mentioned: my cloak.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a rueful half smile, the truth of his position a flicker in the back of his mind. “I’m fae — or was, in my world. A raven, though I could look like this, if I took my feathers off. And since I can still do this—” He transformed, croaked up at Maea, then transformed back in a ruffle of black feathers. The incomplete smile was still on his face as he leaned back, letting his frustration out by digging his fingers into the forest floor behind him and utterly failing to look casual about it.
“Am I right in assuming the Fae here don’t do that?”
