When the music and dancing began, the sharp-eyed may have noticed that a patch of the downpour near the ground started swaying in time. Soon after, a boy steps from behind a tree, and walks slowly toward the fire.
He is small and quick, quiet of step, sharp-eared and sharp-eyed, with sandy hair and seagreen eyes, thin at a scant 3-1/2 feet tall and less than 40 pounds, about the size of a human 6 year old. From his ears and build and quickness of movement it looks as if faerie must run in his blood, though – to those who know such things – he resembles no specific creature of the woods; perhaps he is part faerie, part human.
The boy walks up to Misae at the fire, stopping just short of touching her, and looks up at her, eyes wide and sad. He holds his arms out as if to hug her around the knees.
I like to hear songs and tales too, but yours… Oh, that’s terrible! You must be really angry. Still.
You’re very fiery, you almost feel hot. OOOH! You ARE fire! That’s really interesting!
He turns to Illurien. And you’re… really not water!
The boy skips over to Loptr, gazing up at him. And you’re… really big!
Then he takes a few steps toward Ádhúil, towering over him. And you’re… really little!
He turns toward Mystery. Are you really a mystery? Do you have to be, even with your friends? Then I can’t get to know you much, because you wouldn’t be a mystery..
Dampened spirits; he’s a bit crestfallen, but then he moves on and his mood shifts back into curiosity as he takes a few dancing steps over to Fwisp,and twirls around him a few times while talking. And you’re… you’re…………….… I don’t know! He starts laughing, delicious amusement at his own surprise.
Haha!
Other people like to call me Blisss.
When people in groups stay at night in new places, they like to have someone watch, and take turns in pairs while some sleep. Do you like that too? Are you all going to stay here tonight? I can help watch for us... with someone I can talk to. Very quietly. So we won’t wake up anyone else.
The boy looks around for a big puddle, just out of the roof line into the rain, and sits down in it, face to the skies, holding his arms up into the downpour, palms up to catch and guide the coursing water into his open mouth.
Soaked to the skin, his clothes cling to him. They are well-made but simple, a dark green pullover shirt, dark blue trousers, beltless, and hardy-looking boots. He has no pack, weapons, or other belongings.
Sitting in the puddle, the boy gazes speculatively at Loptr. Loptr. L. O. P. Trrrr. That’s a really unusual, interesting name. Lots of people’s names mean something specific from history, but your name's meaning has disagreement. Some people think it’s another name for Loki, from Odin’s Pantheon... but that doesn’t say what it means, just that Loki had it.
I’m sure it’s Old Norse, and it’s very close to the word for air, but not exactly, and it also sounds like their words for fruit, and for land, and to grow or shape, or even… blaze, but that was later when the language began to change. He glances at Misae. His eyes crinkle; his thought skipped to something else… but then he goes on. It could be something about creation, making, maybe about how the world, the land, is supposed to be grown, or shaped or created. Earth and air. Shaping into fruit...
Really BIG fruit!!! He grins at Loptr, then gazes off into the near distance for a moment, lips screwed in concentration, then sighs and shakes his head. That’s all I overheard, all I remember right now anyway..
The boy starts splashing his hands in the puddle around him.
I could wash your clothes or blankets, if you like. Or rinse them, if you don’t have soap. There have to be some big pools of water collected somewhere near, with all this rain.
