with a reverence unimpaired

Even after she has finished speaking, the tulmhainar sits with his eyes closed, reclined in the chair. Only now he is no more than a boy, willowy in the raggedy and dusty clothes that sit on his body like a sack. There is a smile on his face and eventually when his eyes do open, they are still wizened and knowing even without the ripples of wrinkles around them. Sure, if you like. He answers in a voice bursting with energy and zeal now. I am about as old as this world is. At least, when I came here it was still young, still forming and being formed. Pouring himself another glass of lemonade, he lets the chair fall back to the porch with a dry crack, choosing to prop his boots up on the railing instead. We are solitary creatures for the most part, because in groups our magic can do...strange things to the world. He shrugged as if to say you know how to goes. Too much creation all in one place, too many overlapping illusions...But we sing, through time. As this world spins and moves through the solar system, we pass through the trails of songs left behind, and I can hear my kin. I leave them songs too, when the conditions are right. As for being hungry, the tulmhainar laughs and pats his (now) flat stomach. I am larger than I look. My being is bigger than my body, and that makes me a very hungry critter. The Fae do their best, and in turn, I help their woods to thrive.