Everything about the ascended speaks of her otherness. Her height. Her pale skin. Her movements and strange agile grace.
She is not one of them.
She is not welcome here.
Like cells swarming upon a virus the guard appears; swift as the wind, silent as the growth of moss. They are nearly half her height, some of them slightly small and others slightly taller. Even so, with their skin like bark and their eyes like cooling embers, wings splayed as if forming a ridge between them. They are fae, but they are clearly of the woods moreso than of any kind of humanity. Their hair is like gnarled sticks, skin olive, eyes wide. They are dressed in animal skins, wait, no. They are shifted, partially so.
"Are you aware you do have permission to be here?" One of them asks, though none of their mouths moves and the voice seems to be far louder than one tiny chest should be able to project.
She is not one of them.
She is not welcome here.
Like cells swarming upon a virus the guard appears; swift as the wind, silent as the growth of moss. They are nearly half her height, some of them slightly small and others slightly taller. Even so, with their skin like bark and their eyes like cooling embers, wings splayed as if forming a ridge between them. They are fae, but they are clearly of the woods moreso than of any kind of humanity. Their hair is like gnarled sticks, skin olive, eyes wide. They are dressed in animal skins, wait, no. They are shifted, partially so.
"Are you aware you do have permission to be here?" One of them asks, though none of their mouths moves and the voice seems to be far louder than one tiny chest should be able to project.
