| Living in a city inhabited by humans is extremely hazardous and terrible for fairies, yet they have little say in the matter. These teeny-tiny, fragile beings, ranging to about the size of a potion bottle, are not designed to survive in the harsh and merciless environment of the urban landscape. They face a persistent risk to their health on account of the city's loud noises and bright lights, as well as the pollution and its larger inhabitants. The fairies that make the western city their home have little choice but to adjust to the unforgiving environment, yet they are in danger at all times. The bustling streets are packed with foot traffic and carriages, putting the fairies at a continual risk of being run over or crushed to death. Free roaming house cats kill dozens of fairies every year, and the fairies kill just as many cats in turn, leading to anger with pet-owners. As a result of being confined to the city itself and being unable to leave the mountain as they once could have generations ago, it is difficult for the fairies to obtain the sustenance that is necessary for them to exist, as they must live in our world now. The pollution from burning wood and artisinal crafting is a significant obstacle for the fairies as well. The fumes in the air, while barely a bad smell for a human, are very harmful to their fragile bodies, and as a result, they run the danger of becoming unwell or even passing away if they are exposed to them for even short periods. Because of the overpowering cacophony of the city, it is difficult for them to converse with one another or even hear one another, given their small voices. It's not only the natural dangers that make life tough for fairies; there are plenty of other challenges, too. People are typically too preoccupied with their own lives to notice or pay attention to these little folk since they are too busy living their own lives. It is not unheard of for humans to treat fairies cruelly, for them to become caught in traps, or for them to become ‘harvested’ for alchemical components, despite this practice being forbidden by law. Some fairies adjust to city life and learn to coexist with its many challenges. However, they are perpetually vulnerable, and their very lives are precarious since they are reliant on the goodwill of strangers as well as their own capacity to endure in a setting that was not designed for them and is a never-ending struggle for life. |
~ Of City Life, How it is for Fairies (Bad)
| ~ [Fairy Marjatta] ~ |
| Fairy, Female, Scribe — Assistant to Cardinal Erzael of the West |
| Location: The Western Mountain City |
“I don’t know,” replies Marjatta, shaking her head as her quiet voice is carried away by the winds. She looks at the hero and then back out towards the world, hidden from her eyes by nightfall.
Cool winds press through the air atop the mountain city, cutting over the smooth stones of the many houses hewn out of the rock, whistling as they press past the gaps of the railing she’s sitting on, staring out into the distance. The fairy waits for the shine of the sweet morning light to come far off on the distant horizon, as it would have done on days prior to this, but it never does. The absence of it leaves her empty.
The night stays dark.
She closes her eyes and takes in a long, slow, deep breath.
In generations long ago, fairies, who are now only born on the mountain, were once able to leave it. They were able to travel away from their birth-site, to explore the world and undertake many great experiences and joys. However, as the world has grown older, its passive, ambient magics have faded away little by little. Fairies, unlike all of the other members of the common races, absolutely require a little magic in the world to exist.
— Now, the tall mountain is the only place left where they can be born, and it is the only place left where they can live. To try and leave the mountain is a death-sentence, as one would just fall out of the sky after a few minutes of flight.
“That’s why I come here every day,” she explains, feeling the strong winds press against her. “I can’t go anywhere else," says the fairy, opening her eyes as the wind presses her hair past her face. “But those places can come to me here,” she finishes, smiling, as a dark strand blows over her eyes, moved by exotic winds that reach the peak. She looks back out into the darkness. “…I like to think so, at least.”
The young man, the hero standing next to her, looks for a little while, before turning his gaze to stare out at the total darkness that lies beyond the end of their sight off of the side of the mountain. He had just asked her when the sun would come up. It’s been dark ever since he’s arrived in this world.
“You know how these things are,” says Marjatta. “I guess when it’s done and the crisis is over.” She points off in the distance, to the east. “My favorite thing is the sunrise here,” she says, going on. “In summer, in the windy season, the dusts from the desert kick up into the sky, and it’s just… red,” she explains, waving a hand over the horizon. “Just super-duper red. It’s my favorite time of the year.” She sighs, and it’s quiet for a time. “…But I guess that’s gone for now.”
The cool autumn wind continues on its way, flowing like the never-ending tides of the ocean.
Marjatta realizes that she’s been talking all by herself for a while now. He hasn’t said anything. Ah, well… this happens sometimes. She never has anyone to talk to except for the cardinal, who isn’t really great conversation, and then whenever she has a chance, she just unloads and swallows the other person whole as she lets out a good few months' worth of talking all at once.
The fairy rubs the back of her head. “Sor-”
“— I’ll get it back for you,” he says, before she can finish. Marjatta blinks, looking at him in confusion for a second. The hero nods his head, affirming it to himself as he stands upright and looks at her.
“What…?” asks Marjatta.
“The sunrise,” he explains, turning away and picking up the old lance again from its rest, leaning against a wall. The hero looks over his shoulder, frigid winds pressing past the black hair on his head. “- I’m going to get it back for you,” he promises with alarming confidence.
“I …Sheesh…” says Marjatta, rubbing her arm as he walks off.
He’s been changing, ever since he arrived. Rapidly. At first, he was kind of awkward and hard to talk to. However, literally by the hour, she could swear she could watch his eyes and body tighten further and further in real time. She’s read that heroes can be intense.
The fairy watches him go as he returns to his training in the center of the courtyard they’re in.
Someone who can bring the sunrise back.
She watches him for a while before turning back to the distant darkness that extends on for as far as she can see, not illuminated by a single star, candle, or lantern in the night from here where she sits, all the way to the edge of nothingness.
Maybe that’s what a hero is.
Marjatta looks back over her shoulder. “…I’ll hold you to that promise,” says the fairy quietly, too quietly to be heard, especially in the heavy winds present here at this church enclave in the mountains.
| Living in a city inhabited by humans is extremely hazardous and terrible for fairies, yet they have little say in the matter. These teeny-tiny, fragile beings, ranging to about the size of a potion bottle, are not designed to survive in the harsh and merciless environment of the urban landscape. They face a persistent risk to their health on account of the city's loud noises and bright lights, as well as the pollution and its larger inhabitants. The fairies that make the western city their home have little choice but to adjust to the unforgiving environment, yet they are in danger at all times. The bustling streets are packed with foot traffic and carriages, putting the fairies at a continual risk of being run over or crushed to death. Free roaming house cats kill dozens of fairies every year, and the fairies kill just as many cats in turn, leading to anger with pet-owners. As a result of being confined to the city itself and being unable to leave the mountain as they once could have generations ago, it is difficult for the fairies to obtain the sustenance that is necessary for them to exist, as they must live in our world now. The pollution from burning wood and artisinal crafting is a significant obstacle for the fairies as well. The fumes in the air, while barely a bad smell for a human, are very harmful to their fragile bodies, and as a result, they run the danger of becoming unwell or even passing away if they are exposed to them for even short periods. Because of the overpowering cacophony of the city, it is difficult for them to converse with one another or even hear one another, given their small voices. It's not only the natural dangers that make life tough for fairies; there are plenty of other challenges, too. People are typically too preoccupied with their own lives to notice or pay attention to these little folk since they are too busy living their own lives. It is not unheard of for humans to treat fairies cruelly, for them to become caught in traps, or for them to become ‘harvested’ for alchemical components, despite this practice being forbidden by law. Some fairies adjust to city life and learn to coexist with its many challenges. However, they are perpetually vulnerable, and their very lives are precarious since they are reliant on the goodwill of strangers as well as their own capacity to endure in a setting that was not designed for them and is a never-ending struggle for life. |
~ Of City Life, How it is for Fairies (Bad)
| ~ [Fairy Marjatta] ~ |
| Fairy, Female, Scribe — Assistant to Cardinal Erzael of the West |
| Location: The Western Mountain City |
“I don’t know,” replies Marjatta, shaking her head as her quiet voice is carried away by the winds. She looks at the hero and then back out towards the world, hidden from her eyes by nightfall.
Cool winds press through the air atop the mountain city, cutting over the smooth stones of the many houses hewn out of the rock, whistling as they press past the gaps of the railing she’s sitting on, staring out into the distance. The fairy waits for the shine of the sweet morning light to come far off on the distant horizon, as it would have done on days prior to this, but it never does. The absence of it leaves her empty.
The night stays dark.
She closes her eyes and takes in a long, slow, deep breath.
In generations long ago, fairies, who are now only born on the mountain, were once able to leave it. They were able to travel away from their birth-site, to explore the world and undertake many great experiences and joys. However, as the world has grown older, its passive, ambient magics have faded away little by little. Fairies, unlike all of the other members of the common races, absolutely require a little magic in the world to exist.
— Now, the tall mountain is the only place left where they can be born, and it is the only place left where they can live. To try and leave the mountain is a death-sentence, as one would just fall out of the sky after a few minutes of flight.
“That’s why I come here every day,” she explains, feeling the strong winds press against her. “I can’t go anywhere else," says the fairy, opening her eyes as the wind presses her hair past her face. “But those places can come to me here,” she finishes, smiling, as a dark strand blows over her eyes, moved by exotic winds that reach the peak. She looks back out into the darkness. “…I like to think so, at least.”
The young man, the hero standing next to her, looks for a little while, before turning his gaze to stare out at the total darkness that lies beyond the end of their sight off of the side of the mountain. He had just asked her when the sun would come up. It’s been dark ever since he’s arrived in this world.
“You know how these things are,” says Marjatta. “I guess when it’s done and the crisis is over.” She points off in the distance, to the east. “My favorite thing is the sunrise here,” she says, going on. “In summer, in the windy season, the dusts from the desert kick up into the sky, and it’s just… red,” she explains, waving a hand over the horizon. “Just super-duper red. It’s my favorite time of the year.” She sighs, and it’s quiet for a time. “…But I guess that’s gone for now.”
The cool autumn wind continues on its way, flowing like the never-ending tides of the ocean.
Marjatta realizes that she’s been talking all by herself for a while now. He hasn’t said anything. Ah, well… this happens sometimes. She never has anyone to talk to except for the cardinal, who isn’t really great conversation, and then whenever she has a chance, she just unloads and swallows the other person whole as she lets out a good few months' worth of talking all at once.
The fairy rubs the back of her head. “Sor-”
“— I’ll get it back for you,” he says, before she can finish. Marjatta blinks, looking at him in confusion for a second. The hero nods his head, affirming it to himself as he stands upright and looks at her.
“What…?” asks Marjatta.
“The sunrise,” he explains, turning away and picking up the old lance again from its rest, leaning against a wall. The hero looks over his shoulder, frigid winds pressing past the black hair on his head. “- I’m going to get it back for you,” he promises with alarming confidence.
“I …Sheesh…” says Marjatta, rubbing her arm as he walks off.
He’s been changing, ever since he arrived. Rapidly. At first, he was kind of awkward and hard to talk to. However, literally by the hour, she could swear she could watch his eyes and body tighten further and further in real time. She’s read that heroes can be intense.
The fairy watches him go as he returns to his training in the center of the courtyard they’re in.
Someone who can bring the sunrise back.
She watches him for a while before turning back to the distant darkness that extends on for as far as she can see, not illuminated by a single star, candle, or lantern in the night from here where she sits, all the way to the edge of nothingness.
Maybe that’s what a hero is.
Marjatta looks back over her shoulder. “…I’ll hold you to that promise,” says the fairy quietly, too quietly to be heard, especially in the heavy winds present here at this church enclave in the mountains.
