Naavi
Down went the books, and up flitted the fae. Large brown eyes peered down at the fallen human, and she giggled, "It's quite dangerous to walk and read, you know. The ground provides places to sit. On a root, or some moss..."
Demigod, daughter of Mort. Naavi had never had the pleasure of meeting her directly, but she had heard of her, and of the things, she could do. "But you shouldn't be sorry, as no harm came to you, or me, or the tomes. I am quite low to the ground, it makes sense to miss me." As wings lowered feet to the ground once more, the small woman settled in front of Delphia.
Now, if a fellow fae had tripped over her, Naavi probably still would have laughed, rather than accept an apology. "Are you looking for something in the books? Maybe I can help," Once upon a time, Alcyone had taught her to always offer her wisdom, because within each fae there lay a pearl of wisdom that had been crafted by the teaching of those before them. Much like the tomes in the Undercroft.
Some of the books even held her Alcyone's handwriting, because the older fae had believed dearly in not only passing history and knowledge orally but to write it down to never be lost as well. Each book with the deceased warrior's handwriting was a lifeline; even if the topic was uninteresting, she would still read it. Because how could she forget a woman that had spent decades at her side, with hands wrapped tightly around her heart, caging her for what felt like an eternity.
But it had been a small portion of her life. Though, never once had Naavi regretted losing Alcyone, because the woman had died doing what she lived for. The healer, in love with a warrior, she'd practiced her craft on her beloved more times than she could count. But her memory was long and vivid.
In her home, the walls were lined with small leather journals. She wrote everything down, as to never forget. So much imagery and effort put into writing down her past, her thoughts, her prayers. It was tedious, meticulous work, but it made her feel better; she could never forget as long as the writing lived on.
And neither could anyone else.
Demigod, daughter of Mort. Naavi had never had the pleasure of meeting her directly, but she had heard of her, and of the things, she could do. "But you shouldn't be sorry, as no harm came to you, or me, or the tomes. I am quite low to the ground, it makes sense to miss me." As wings lowered feet to the ground once more, the small woman settled in front of Delphia.
Now, if a fellow fae had tripped over her, Naavi probably still would have laughed, rather than accept an apology. "Are you looking for something in the books? Maybe I can help," Once upon a time, Alcyone had taught her to always offer her wisdom, because within each fae there lay a pearl of wisdom that had been crafted by the teaching of those before them. Much like the tomes in the Undercroft.
Some of the books even held her Alcyone's handwriting, because the older fae had believed dearly in not only passing history and knowledge orally but to write it down to never be lost as well. Each book with the deceased warrior's handwriting was a lifeline; even if the topic was uninteresting, she would still read it. Because how could she forget a woman that had spent decades at her side, with hands wrapped tightly around her heart, caging her for what felt like an eternity.
But it had been a small portion of her life. Though, never once had Naavi regretted losing Alcyone, because the woman had died doing what she lived for. The healer, in love with a warrior, she'd practiced her craft on her beloved more times than she could count. But her memory was long and vivid.
In her home, the walls were lined with small leather journals. She wrote everything down, as to never forget. So much imagery and effort put into writing down her past, her thoughts, her prayers. It was tedious, meticulous work, but it made her feel better; she could never forget as long as the writing lived on.
And neither could anyone else.
Sen
