| A Yurble stole my cinnamon roll! |
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Issue: 939 | 25th day of Relaxing, Y23 |
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"Winnow of the Wind" by pandora
Light faeries gleam, darkness faeries grumble, and water faeries glide through the sea. Or at least, that’s what the stories say. Air faeries are meant to float like whispers in the wind, though I’ve always had trouble with that. Awkward Winnow, gawking Winnow, Winnow with her tangly-tumbly hair. That faerie-girl with the loud voice and the silly smile, far too improper for a lady of Faerieland.
Winnow with no sense.
Winnow with broken wings.
My mother used to warn me: don’t fly too far from home. Home being Faerieland, where all is safe and soft as an embrace. But before I was an oddity, I was a fool.
I wanted to see the world.
I floated down, down, down from the dream-cotton cloud I was beholden to.
You see, faeries are fierce, but we are also quite fragile. We are only as strong as our weakest points. Not bones or skin, but something even more gossamer, always trailing behind or above us.
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