and like a book cover, I am what I hide
Nephele wouldn’t consider it a lack of interest, but most humans weren’t interested in lovers that would long outlive them (or that had wings) and Fae often felt the same way about humans. It was simply a sad inevitability of life. “Then by the grace of your happiness, it shall be a joyous affair.” The firm nod of her head has crimson hair flowing back across her shoulders. She commits the name to memory, trying to do so more often with the humans that find their way into the Greatwood.
Nephele blinks slowly, like a cat, as Maeve offers her assistance. “I only have one pan,” she states outright, prompted by being caught off guard. “But your assistance is welcome.” Turning, she wastes no time wading back into the river, bending to begin sifting for the smaller stones with her pan again. “Have you met Ludo, then?” Or was her familiarity more theoretical?
Nephele blinks slowly, like a cat, as Maeve offers her assistance. “I only have one pan,” she states outright, prompted by being caught off guard. “But your assistance is welcome.” Turning, she wastes no time wading back into the river, bending to begin sifting for the smaller stones with her pan again. “Have you met Ludo, then?” Or was her familiarity more theoretical?
