Here and there, had been hints of paint on the small one for days.
A vague pin point, or three, of tanzanite blue. Soft speckles of pinks and greens. Keener senses would have smelled the paint on her before, if at all, it could be seen.
The heart that was hers had been light the past month following the length of mourning for the fisherwoman, Thale. At first, she had kept self very busy with any chore she could think of and slept through the rest of the hours of the days that had not been spent in the common room of the Red Dragon Inn.
But it was when she had seen the smallest of the fae-like creatures known make their home in the Glen that S'jira had found a bit more peace. Each night, for weeks, after she had discovered them S'jira came to watch them.
It was a most magickal sight, by anyone's standards or experiences. But for the tiny woman who had come from lands where magick was myth and none could weild it...RhyDin was both frightening and a place of dreams-come-to-life.
These very small creatures seemed a little different than those that came to the inn and had voices and tongue spoken in the Common Language. Theirs was more a musical thing and nothing that S'jira could understand. Beyond the lucid colorful wings that bore them to and fro in flight and fancy, these beautiful creatures wore no clothing and found no embarrassment from it. It was simply their way.
After a particular night of a fierce, Spring storm though.. thoughts of some sort of shelter for them seeped into the small woman's thinking. Days after, she thought on it until she remembered talk with Panther about bird or fairy houses.
A certain giddiness over the idea took root and hold of her and she put herself to the task between work and rest. Tiny houses, not bigger than the large fist of a smithy were worked from bits of wood. Then she painted them bright colors, to compliment the lively wings of the creatures.
Another couple of weeks passed before the very simply made things were finished. A dozen, in all. Each were carefully strung from the ancient boughs of the large oak tree that stood stoic and strong beside the Glen's lake.
Little homes that she hoped would be accepted and used by them.
On the first evening, in the waning late, they appeared. All were flitting about and curious of the little dwellings that the Human had strung up for them among the protective branches and leaves of the old oak tree. Then, to S'jira's disappointment...they left and sought the rest of the night among the fireflies and owls in a fit of nightly play as they often did.
It wasn't until three days more that the tiny creatures delved into the small holes made in the little homes and poked heads out and back in again.
On that fourth night, in the light of the nearly full moon, S'jira lay back on the cool, lush grass by the lake and watched the creatures' curiousity and how they were discovering these things. At times, she laughed quietly and other moments.. she simply smiled.
A vague pin point, or three, of tanzanite blue. Soft speckles of pinks and greens. Keener senses would have smelled the paint on her before, if at all, it could be seen.
The heart that was hers had been light the past month following the length of mourning for the fisherwoman, Thale. At first, she had kept self very busy with any chore she could think of and slept through the rest of the hours of the days that had not been spent in the common room of the Red Dragon Inn.
But it was when she had seen the smallest of the fae-like creatures known make their home in the Glen that S'jira had found a bit more peace. Each night, for weeks, after she had discovered them S'jira came to watch them.
It was a most magickal sight, by anyone's standards or experiences. But for the tiny woman who had come from lands where magick was myth and none could weild it...RhyDin was both frightening and a place of dreams-come-to-life.
These very small creatures seemed a little different than those that came to the inn and had voices and tongue spoken in the Common Language. Theirs was more a musical thing and nothing that S'jira could understand. Beyond the lucid colorful wings that bore them to and fro in flight and fancy, these beautiful creatures wore no clothing and found no embarrassment from it. It was simply their way.
After a particular night of a fierce, Spring storm though.. thoughts of some sort of shelter for them seeped into the small woman's thinking. Days after, she thought on it until she remembered talk with Panther about bird or fairy houses.
A certain giddiness over the idea took root and hold of her and she put herself to the task between work and rest. Tiny houses, not bigger than the large fist of a smithy were worked from bits of wood. Then she painted them bright colors, to compliment the lively wings of the creatures.
Another couple of weeks passed before the very simply made things were finished. A dozen, in all. Each were carefully strung from the ancient boughs of the large oak tree that stood stoic and strong beside the Glen's lake.
Little homes that she hoped would be accepted and used by them.
On the first evening, in the waning late, they appeared. All were flitting about and curious of the little dwellings that the Human had strung up for them among the protective branches and leaves of the old oak tree. Then, to S'jira's disappointment...they left and sought the rest of the night among the fireflies and owls in a fit of nightly play as they often did.
It wasn't until three days more that the tiny creatures delved into the small holes made in the little homes and poked heads out and back in again.
On that fourth night, in the light of the nearly full moon, S'jira lay back on the cool, lush grass by the lake and watched the creatures' curiousity and how they were discovering these things. At times, she laughed quietly and other moments.. she simply smiled.