Local moth fairy loves lämp, more at 11 @elfi@pixie.town

Life's been tough ever since I became a fairy. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say it involved a large amount of clumsiness, bad luck, and a wrongful death caused by my own kind. Well, not quite my "own kind", which is also why I wasn't allowed to join them in the fairy realm or whatever. So I ended up alone, traveling from dungeon to dungeon, hoping to find some ancient texts to discover more about myself, and my abilities.

Typically, I can stay around one of these dungeons for weeks to months. You'd be surprised how well stocked the dusty looking libraries really are, both the ones hidden behind secret entrances and the like, and even those right in the path of adventurers. Sustenance is not a problem. I've gone weeks without food, and felt no different. Other than missing it, of course. But getting to eat is still nice, and adventurers will occasionally leave their rations around, sometimes in a rush. I have noticed I need to be careful with certain beverages though. I might not get sick, but I can get drunk. I didn't know the pouch contained alcohol, and it smelled sweet, alright?

And I do have to be a careful. One of the few things the other fairies told me before they left is that, much like them, I should really avoid being found. Not only am I now a rare, mythical creature, wanted by all sorts of shady figures to extract my magic or knowledge, both of which I have very little admittedly, or other things I would rather not imagine, but also ... something something not getting on the wrong side of the gods? I do wish the idiots who gave me another chance at life had waited for me to shake that post-revival dizziness, instead they just blasted me with more information than I could retain. Who knew that fairies dealt with the gods, though?

So here I am now, flapping about with my quad wings from bookcase to bookcase, barely able to lift the books over onto the table. The really big ones I just end up having to throw on the floor to read. Thankfully the dungeon cleaning crews help with the mess. You can probably guess that hundreds of years of explorers or adventurers coming through here would make this place reek of blood and be stacked with garbage left behind, intentionally or not. Why this is a thing, I've yet to find out. Even though I've been seen before, and they don't seem to care much about me, I'd still not want to risk actually ... striking up a conversation with an undead, you know?

The dungeons being mostly unlit doesn't hinder me from pursuing my interests, in fact it's quite helpful. When a team of adventurers comes through, I can see and hear them come from a mile away, which gives me time to use one of the few spells I learned that allows me to turn into a simple plant or fungus, ideally something nobody would like to touch, or ... just hide behind the books. But practicing is important. I have yet to get the hang of the creature disguise spell, useful to move around unseen at day. Less useful here, however. A woodland critter would likely stand out. I should be safe though. Rarely will anyone stick around a dungeon library to go through books, most of which are of little value. Anyway, I can easily read in the dark. My eyes appear to see pretty well on their own in these conditions, and the faint magical glow I give off makes it even easier to make out the contents even for books that are in quite bad condition. But don't worry, without some sort of night vision themselves, adventurers can't see me even in the blackest of nights. I read somewhere that the catalyst needed for such a spell is too expensive to waste for exploring these "casual" dungeons I've been residing in.

That's what I thought until now, anyway. Because it looks like a cat person has just entered the library. Damn me and my getting lost in thoughts. Didn't help last time I died, either! At least I was sitting inside one of the bookshelves to the side where I'm not immediately in view, instead of the table taking up the center of the room. Which is exactly where the cat has just moved, checking out the pile of books I left there, some of which I am still in the progress of reading. Why did I not hear her? Is she one of those thief-y sorts? Where is the rest of her group? I turn my head slightly to check that my wings aren't out. Maybe I can get away by pretending to be one of the carved statues that you can find stored next to the books, as anatomical examples, paperweight or bookends? I am pretty dusty myself, so I won't look too out of place, right? Casting a spell now would be way too flashy, and I haven't even learned how to do them wordlessly. I ready myself, and I see the rogue scanning the room after taking a look at the mess left on the table, where our eyes meet. Her round, olive eyes with their narrow black pupils suddenly appear lit up in the dark, and I immediately worry mine look the same to her. Gulp.

#Writing #Fantasy #ShortStory #Fairy

Happy 37th anniversary of the Max Headroom Incident, to those who celebrate.