Among the wavering, crooning, high-pitched melodies that swam through the air...was a interruption.
Could've been the wind, or it could have been a ghost. But when Bluestorm heard the shuffling of air, like a wing of a bird had been flapped---she knew it was neither. Then the small fairy appeared, leaping from the leafy brown canopy of whimpering trees above. A whimpering tree, was after all, a ancient, hunched breed of willow, with thin bristling branches covered in a ashy sap that leaked from the crevices in the tree' black bark. The leaves were long, and narrow like most willows, though they were four of them, stuck together at the base; they then curled into the air like claws. The many lean limbs of this tree curved from the bowed trunk and into the air, forming a odd bush-like look. But that wasn't how the strange brown-leafed tree got its name. Attached only to the whimpering tree species, were the makis fairies. Squat, short elf-like people with wings, more or less. Their wings were like a dragonfly's, and almost always pale green. The fairy's skin would be a pale, ashy gray, dappled with white or brown markings, the pattern of which varied greatly from makis to makis. They had large pale eyes (of varying colors) and blinked rather rapidly. They were the cause of the whimpering trees' name, because they only lived in the hollowed trunks of those trees----the reason the sap of a whimpering tree runs on the outside of its bark. Makis fairies talk very shrilly in their own language, and tend to try and sing like birds----though what really is heard is a low, keening wail that twitters sharply from time-to-time, then sinks into a delicate, piercing murmur of combined notes. This unique melody is heard by all passersby's when they strode through---or flew over---a whimpering tree.
Bluestorm heard the quivering tune now, even as she looked upon one of the makis fairy's in the flesh. This one had big, perfectly round eyes that were a lucid blue, and were too big for her face. She had weedy black hair, and oddly shady gray skin that was riddled with white symbols. A star-like blotch of her forehead was the most noticeable. Bluestorm realized the little fairy was barely large as one of her front fangs, and wondered what the makis must be thinking.
“You are the blue warrior,” she trilled, in a pitchy tone.
Bluestorm blinked, “I am.” The she-dragon was surprised that the fairy knew her language---or did Bluestorm simply know hers?
~
