Eliza
He didn’t seem friendly. She supposed she understood the initial - well, it was yet to be seen if it was indeed only initial - reaction. It wasn’t like she had been overly welcoming of someone coming into her home. Her thoughts drifted back to the cobbler who had trespassed in the Fae’s home woods.
Who was she? “A stranger,” she answered rather cryptically. “You can call me Eli.” Just as she had before, she kept her name hidden, secret from someone that she didn’t know.
The way that he looked at her was strange, and Eliza was having a surprisingly difficult time deciphering the meaning behind his gaze. Hostility? Confusion? Territorialism? General agitation?
“Can I have your name?” The Fae asked with a small smile, taking a few steps forward. “Would you like a hand?”
