Nephele is no defiant shield in face of the waves of war, a scientist more than a soldier. Still her soul lives in the bloodveins of these woods, and it shifts and recoils against the invasive taint of the Outlanders. Neither her curiosity over their peculiar fleshy bodies, nor her interest in their violent, rough world would be enough to slake her desire to bleed them when their feet touch her forest floor. As if they have the right to crush it beneath their blooded heels, when they had already destroyed so much of their own world. The Fae had held the Greatwood since the Dawn, and had been entrusted with its safety when the barrier fell and the little creatures playing at god were entombed with their own bloodthirsty kind. Did they think that just because they had been freed that they would simply move on to the next land? Ready to rend and raize?
Nephele does not trust them, no matter her curiosity. She does trust Delah though, knows that no other in the Village would place the safety of their people any higher. If the War Chief deigns to allow the humans upon their soil, she will not object and will instead use it to her advantage as any good Fae would. She would merely...research them. Perhaps with sharp scalpels, if they were particularly annoying.
So when word reaches Delah's ears of their presence, Nephele hesitates only briefly before answering the call as well.
Flame hair curls in artistic waves, loose down her back as the Fae woman flies swiftly from her studies to the wildwood. Her beautiful face is twisted in a grimace of distaste, hazel eyes narrowed against the wind. The scrunch of her face only soothes as she comes upon the group. They are not privy to the truth of her emotions. Bare feet drop to the earth, a whisper of wind scattering brittle leaves from her swift arrival. She strides on slim legs towards Delah, the only familiar face in this gathering of...strangers. It is the kindest word she can allow them even in the privacy of her own mind.
I hate this, she breathes softly as she comes to Delah's side, in the language only the two of them know. It feels wrong down to her bones to see them gathered here, careless and oblivious. When the beautiful dark-skinned stranger snidely response to Delah, Nephele tilts her head and smiles beatifically, almost appreciative of the sass from this woman. If it were not directed at Delah, perhaps.
"Urine is a common fertilizer, so you are welcome to try if all else fails," she purrs with a quirk of her lips, eyes alight with firespark amusement and mishcief. Whether the woman takes it as bantering or insult only time will tell, but it matters little to her. Nephele tucks her copper wings against her back, keeping tight to Delah's side. They are not close, but she is a familiar and trustworthy face, one Nephele would always appreciate at her side when faced with these strangers.
An exuberant child startles her, and her hazel eyes flick down in surprise. A part of her preens at the compliments, while another scowls at being treated like a butterfly in a glass bauble. Still, of the two of them, Nephele is likely the friendlier for this child to converse with. Gods, how old is she?! Nephele didn't know they even came in this size!
"I'm afraid we cannot teach you our magic," she inputs, unable to lie even for the sake of the child's curiosity. Though her mischievous gaze flits over to Delah, wondering if the Chief would deign to break out her glamour magic for the whelp. "You're near small enough to be Fae of your own right," she comments, deciding to be nice and distract the eager child from annoying her Chief. If she stresses the word 'fae' to try to substitute fairy in the child's vocabulary, well. Hopefully she is intelligent enough to catch onto it.
Nephele does not trust them, no matter her curiosity. She does trust Delah though, knows that no other in the Village would place the safety of their people any higher. If the War Chief deigns to allow the humans upon their soil, she will not object and will instead use it to her advantage as any good Fae would. She would merely...research them. Perhaps with sharp scalpels, if they were particularly annoying.
So when word reaches Delah's ears of their presence, Nephele hesitates only briefly before answering the call as well.
Flame hair curls in artistic waves, loose down her back as the Fae woman flies swiftly from her studies to the wildwood. Her beautiful face is twisted in a grimace of distaste, hazel eyes narrowed against the wind. The scrunch of her face only soothes as she comes upon the group. They are not privy to the truth of her emotions. Bare feet drop to the earth, a whisper of wind scattering brittle leaves from her swift arrival. She strides on slim legs towards Delah, the only familiar face in this gathering of...strangers. It is the kindest word she can allow them even in the privacy of her own mind.
I hate this, she breathes softly as she comes to Delah's side, in the language only the two of them know. It feels wrong down to her bones to see them gathered here, careless and oblivious. When the beautiful dark-skinned stranger snidely response to Delah, Nephele tilts her head and smiles beatifically, almost appreciative of the sass from this woman. If it were not directed at Delah, perhaps.
"Urine is a common fertilizer, so you are welcome to try if all else fails," she purrs with a quirk of her lips, eyes alight with firespark amusement and mishcief. Whether the woman takes it as bantering or insult only time will tell, but it matters little to her. Nephele tucks her copper wings against her back, keeping tight to Delah's side. They are not close, but she is a familiar and trustworthy face, one Nephele would always appreciate at her side when faced with these strangers.
An exuberant child startles her, and her hazel eyes flick down in surprise. A part of her preens at the compliments, while another scowls at being treated like a butterfly in a glass bauble. Still, of the two of them, Nephele is likely the friendlier for this child to converse with. Gods, how old is she?! Nephele didn't know they even came in this size!
"I'm afraid we cannot teach you our magic," she inputs, unable to lie even for the sake of the child's curiosity. Though her mischievous gaze flits over to Delah, wondering if the Chief would deign to break out her glamour magic for the whelp. "You're near small enough to be Fae of your own right," she comments, deciding to be nice and distract the eager child from annoying her Chief. If she stresses the word 'fae' to try to substitute fairy in the child's vocabulary, well. Hopefully she is intelligent enough to catch onto it.
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
