Lyrissa wrings her hands together as she makes her way towards the hybrid's room. Her meeting with Fox this morning for an update on Day's situation left her with intense feelings of remorse. She told the truth all along, is truly from another world and doesn't know a thing about this one.
Imagine, a traveller from a different world! This is interesting! And if there's one thing Lyrissa knows, interesting makes for great gossip. She loves hearing all the juicy tidbits of people's lives almost as much as she loves healing. Lyrissa knows when to be discreet, capable of taking on the role of trusted confidant when required, but never grew out of the need-to-know-it-all phase of her life.
But first, she has some serious apologizing to do. Now where exactly did they put the woman? Oh yeah, the room with the dragonfly on the door. She's only passed it three times now.
Lyrissa pauses in the doorway, knuckles poised over the wood. A growl erupts from the other side and something slams against the door, rattling the frame. What in the world? Her hand finishes the short journey, rapping on the wood three times.
"Day, it's me, Lyrissa. Are you alright?" A triumphant cry answers.
Lyrissa knocks again, repeating her name.
The door swings open to the odd sight of Day standing on her mattress holding a struggling moth in her hands. Not just any moth, but a Southern Illusion moth, not known to frequent this part of the forest.
The insect is of average size for its kind, with a five feet wingspan and a stocky, fur-covered body the width of a helm. Its gorgeous forewings are smoky grey fading to a lighter shade of the color. Crimson vertical lines lend them a three-dimensional appearance which gives the creature its name. Its thick body hides in a crimson sea of fluff. Spots resembling fake eyes adorn its thorax and head. The creature's eyes, legs, and feathered antenna are the same vibrant red as the rest of its body.
"Oh!" Lyrissa blinks. It's a bedroom battle scene. A magelight flickers dimly on the ground while a pillow perches precariously over the edge of the balcony. The trampled blankets lay strewn across the floor, victims of this not suitable for the history books event. Bristly legs wave frantically in the air a moment longer before clinging desperately to the hybrid's arm. Its feathered antenna quiver madly. "Don't hurt it dear, it's harmless!"
Day's mouth drops open. "Don't know me very well, do you? No, I guess not, didn't keep me awake long enough." Day walks onto her balcony, thankfully, as Lyrissa's sure her cheeks are on fire. She places the moth against the trunk. "There, you'll be safe enough until tonight. Then you can get back to whatever it is you do for fun." Day pats the insect on its furry abdomen and returns with her wayward pillow.
Lyrissa smoothes her shirt and takes a deep breath. It's now or never. "Listen Day, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure if you damaged your head or if you were trying to gain attention. I spoke with Fox and..."
"Wait, hold up. Why is it you believe him and not me? Not like I told him anything different." Day folds her arms across her chest, expression caught in a mix of anger and confusion. "For that matter, why does he believes me at all? I mean, I would have called myself crazy and thrown me out the door!"
Well, time to let Day in on a secret, perhaps if she's honest, it will go a ways in gaining her trust. "Ok, I can explain. See, most of us have special abilities. Some of them, like creating magelights or changing the colors of our hair, are pretty common. Garden variety abilities so to speak. Others, such as healing and the actual manipulation of energies, occur less frequently. Fox has an ability which pops up about once every other generation or so. He knows if you're telling the truth."
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The Paths of GreythornFantasy
The dream paths, accessed by a chosen few, reveal the most likely future following any given choice. Unfortunately for the human dreamwalker Daystorm, the decisions made by the fairies of Greythorn make her long for the simpler days of sweat-induced...