I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I write code full-time and words in the gaps in between.
"What happens now?" asked Woost.
"Nothing," said the faerie, landing on the pillow next to the infant's head. "Now we wait. And make plans. And hope for the best. Nothing can happen until the child comes of age, anyway, not now that she is bonded and sealed. And humans age so frustratingly slowly. So we have time."
There was a long silence, as faerie and elemental alike watched the infant sleep. It was finally Woost whose voice broke the stillness.
"Strange how something so small and fragile and... mortal can be so wound up in the threads of Fate that extraordinary measures such as these must be taken in order to protect it," he said.
"Such has always been the case, my friend," the faerie replied. "Fate has always been influenced most heavily by the finite and the measurable. It's almost ironic that it's that very mutability upon which it seems to rely."
Comments (1 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Nice examination of the world.
- #1421 Posted 5 years ago
- 5 out of 5
Inspired by (sequel to):
A spark of green faelight flitted through the nursery window as the last rays of day faded from the …Dust
- Published 5 years ago.
- Story viewed 10 times and rated 1 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?