Nill gives a small shake of her head, like she’s correcting something obvious.

“I do not have the remembering of you doing the growling, either.” She says, voice even. “You do not have to be doing the apologizing.”

There’s a brief pause, and her head tilts.

“I have not had the seeing of you since the Amphitheater, Storm.”

Her attention drifts, glancing down the alley, then over her shoulder. She adjusts the edge of her sleeve, smoothing it once, then again, and finally turns back to Storm with a nod.

“We can be doing the wandering.”

Read More...

Nill studies the draconian’s hand for a long moment, then slips out of sight.

A few seconds pass, then there’s the scrape of quick steps across the roof. The pixie drops, catching a windowsill on the way down. She moves through a series of precise jumps before letting herself fall the last few feet, wings fluttering just enough to soften the impact.

She stays crouched for a moment, adjusting her hood to make sure it’s secured on her horns. Her head snaps to either end of the alley, wings flaring slightly as she scans the shadows.

When she finds nothing, her wings settle, and she stands.

Nill steps closer to Storm, but not quite within reach. She stops there, making no move to perch like she usually would.

Read More...

There’s a soft shuffle overhead before Nill’s head slowly appears over the edge of the roof. Her hood casts her face in shadow, but what can be seen is deliberately neutral.

“Storm, I think you have the confusion.” She says, tilting her head just slightly. “I do not have the remembering of you doing the snapping.”

Her wings give a small twitch behind her, but she makes no move to climb down yet.

Read More...

Nill lifts her hands and mimics the motion of swinging a staff. Her wings give a faint flutter as she completes the motion.

“Big stick for doing the hitting,” she says plainly. She steps closer to Zuigrii and lowers her voice so that only he and Storm can hear. “I am also having the needing of tools. I can be doing the picking of locks and making of traps.”
 Her hands move in small gestures as she speaks, tapping her fingertips together in sequence as if cataloguing each tool in her mind.
“Tools are being picks, knives, pins, awl. And cord. Cord must have the strong. Not the snapping.”

She turns her head towards Storm, tilting it slightly.

“Is this being too much? I can be doing the paying back of you soon.” Her hands fall still at her sides as she waits for an answer.

Read More...

Nill tilts her head up towards Zuigrii and gives a single nod.

For a moment she lingers behind Storm, then slips out into full view. The pixie is small, and dressed entirely in black. Two black wings rest at her back, and a pair of dark horns curve towards her head. Silver piercings scatter across her face and along her pointed ears.

She steps forward and performs an odd series of hand motions before extending an open palm towards Zuigrii in greeting.

“I am calling myself Nill.” She says evenly. “You are being Zuigrii?” Her expression does not shift through the interaction, just remains blank and unreadable. “You have the making of sticks?”

Read More...

Nill gives Storm a nod in acknowledgment.

“I will be calling him Zuigrii. Do not have the worrying.”

As she looks around, her posture tightens, shoulders drawing in just slightly. Though her face remains perfectly neutral, her wings twitch in small, restless flicks at each sound coming from somewhere in the guild.

“It is having the loud here…” she adds quietly, retreating a small step behind Storm.

Read More...

“You did the speaking of a friendly Faerie. If that is being the truth, I would be liking to do the meeting of her.” 
Nill shifts her weight, wings giving a small, uneasy twitch.

“I am not having the meeting of many friendly Faeries,” she admits. “So it would be having the nice.”

Her gaze drifts back to the vardo.

“I would also be liking to be meeting Vesta, but I am having nothing yet for the trading of the past. Another time.”

She straightens and gives a small, decisive nod.

“And then we can be going back to the Kog’Thrak.”  

Read More...

Vesta’s vardo sits in Umbris’ garden like a jewel amidst its dark surroundings. It’s elaborately painted in purples, blues, and golds, and its curves are traced with delicate celestial motifs. Glass lanterns hang from the eaves and corners, while bells threaded along the filigree jingle with the slightest movement.

Usually, the windows and doors are flung wide, the scent of vanilla and incense drifting into the city. Today, however, it’s silent. Its doors are shut tight, windows sealed. The lanterns hang still and unlit. No scent drifts from inside. It sits as though it's been abandoned for weeks.
As Storm and Nill approach, the pixie studies it with careful interest, tilting her head before glancing at the draconian.

“You are being sure of this place being the right?”

Read More...

“It is being fine. They are being gone now for time that is long...” Her wings draw in close against her back, folding tight without her seeming to notice the motion at all. “I was doing the waiting until I could be doing the escaping. Better if you are being invisible.” She shrugs. “Faeries have the liking for ones who are doing the screaming and fighting most."

Read More...

“I will not be minding having the meeting of Vesta.”

Nill goes quiet for a long while as they walk, gaze unfocused. At last, she shakes her head. “Dislike is having too much of the complication.” She lifts a hand, turning it slightly, as if weighing the idea. “People are not having the good or the bad. Faeries, humans, undead... what they are being is not having the matter. It is being what the heart is saying louder that they will do the following of.” She taps two fingers lightly against her chest and gives a small shrug. “And sometimes, the heart is not having the mattering at all. The living is being the louder song. How can I be doing the dislike when I must be having the living first?”

She slows, then stops, staring down at her hands.

“There are being those that I should be having the wanting for suffering of…” Her fingers curl slightly, then relax. “But someone did the telling of me that the living is having more important. So I will be doing the living.” She nods once, then starts walking again.

Read More...

Nill shakes her head again, the motion small and certain.

“I am not having the family. There is no one that would be doing the looking for me.”

She pauses, considering, then lifts her gaze.

“If Storm is wishing me to do the helping with the famine, then I will be doing the helping.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I cannot do the making of food. But I have the sneaking. And the stealing.” A beat. “I can be doing the making of traps, and the hitting of things with stick. I am liking the hitting with stick greatly.”

Her wings give a light, restless flutter.

“This Vesta…” She tilts her head. “Can she do the seeing of things that already did the happening?”  

Read More...

Nill considers the question in silence, her steps slowing for a moment. Then she gives a small shake of her head.

“No. There is having nothing for me in the Sidhe.” Her gaze drops to the ground as they walk. “But I am not having the knowing of what I am to be doing here.”

Her wings give a faint, uncertain twitch.

“First, I am needing to do the paying back of you. It is having the start.”

Read More...

Nill looks down at her hands for a long moment, as if confirming she’s still there. Then, slowly, she reaches up to her neck. Her fingers trace the skin where the collar once rested, careful and tentative, testing the space it left behind. She lifts her gaze to Storm.

“I am feeling the fine.” For just a heartbeat, something bright flickers in her eyes, though her expression remains unchanged. “It is not having the burning of me anymore. Relieved.”

She offers Storm a small bow.

“I am thanking you greatly.” Then she faces the woman and bows again, just as carefully. “The thanks are with you also.”

Read More...