Chapter Text
Nowadays, Feo Ul found themselves increasingly busy with less time to spend pulling tricks and pranks. There was always a loyal subject, needing their fair king to settle disputes. Weather it was a disgruntled Nu mou, upset at an unfair trade or an obnoxious pixie making a little too much mischief for mortals. Feo Ul had to deal with it all in the moment it happened. Alas that was the way their kind lived.
Luckily the king of the fae had finally found time to address one of their more personal pressing matters. Fixing up the ragged state of her two very precious and marvellously dense saplings. Feo Ul loved their dear saplings with everything they had, but the both of them would not stop hopelessly dancing around one another. Feo Ul was tiring of seeing their dearest saplings stumble about like new-born Amaro. They both needed a gentle nudge towards eloping with one another.
Though in retrospect it might end up needing to be more of a shove. The Warrior of Darkness was almost magically obvious to the Crystal Exarch's clear as day pining. The Crystal Exarch also seemed convinced that he didn't deserve the Warrior's affections. Alas, nothing would progress between the two precious saplings, unless Feo Ul expertly intervened with a little fae magic. The king had spent many hours conjuring and weaving together many dreams to put their dear little saplings into. But eventually Feo Ul settled on an old woven tale that reminded them of their dear sweet little Exarch.
The king rises from their grand throne and they swish their finger in the air to begin the dream weaving.
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Elsewhere in the first the Crystal Exarch had finished a long day of Crystarium upkeep and exchanging many social pleasantries with a highly rambunctious Dwarven representative. Whom in particular were known to be a handful at their best and a raging disaster to host at their worst. Plenty of alcohol being provided had helped the trade talks regarding the fine ore and stone go less rocky than the Exarch had feared.
However, at the end of the day the highly tired Crystal Exarch practically collapses in his comfortable high backed chair. Rubbing fruitlessly at his temples as if that would fend off the oncoming headache creeping up on him. Of course whenever the Exarch stops for even a moment his overactive mind would wander toward a certain inspiring Warrior of Darkness.
What was his everlasting inspiration currently up too? How was their health fairing? Were they able to gain a moment of respite between their vast amount of duties? Maybe he could check on them via his mirror in hopes of relieving some of his many worries and questions. The Exarch unconsciously reaches out for his staff which is resting on the side of the chair. But he catches himself and hastily retreats his hand as he realises the selfish desire he was about to act on.
What right did he have to intrude on his inspirations privacy? The allgan made mirror should only be used for dire situations or in case of emergencies. Not for an old man's idle musings. The Exarch scolds himself harshly for letting his fickle emotions get the better of him. He should trust the Warrior's judgment and skill at keeping themselves safe, whole and hale.
Then another wave of exhaustion washes over the wary Crystal Exarch. He groans from the spiking pain threatening to tear his head in two. Maybe he should rest his eyes for a moment. Just to make sure this forming headache didn't hamper his research towards getting the Scion's back to the source.
Soon he finds himself drowsily slowly drifting off as his tired body slouches awkwardly in the chair. An odd whisper of someone’s giggling can be heard before the Exarch finally succumbs to a restless sleep.
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G'raha Tia unhappily mumbles and groans as something persistently pecks at his face. He raises his right arm to try and bat away the infuriating little pecking pest. Alas his efforts are in vain as the thing continues to assault his face with light pecks. He grouchily opens his groggy eyes to be met with a blurry outline of a small bright blue bird. The bird happily tweets a tune in close proximity to G'raha's face. G'raha's drowzy mind finally catches up to him and he realises a bird is sitting on his face. His eyes shoot wide open and he jolts upright into a sitting position. Startling the blue bird from its comfortable miqo'te perch.
Perhaps he had left a window open before he dozed off? No wait! The crystal tower didn't have any windows. G'raha swivels his head around in complete confusion, only to be met with an open looking field and blooming flowers scattered around.
The pressing matter of being in a strange place shakes G'raha into a rapidly alert state. Had the wretched Ascian named Elidibus, captured him to make use of his vast knowledge? Then a panicked thought runs through G'raha's head like a raging wildfire. Was his dearest Warrior in danger? If they were, G'raha was stuck in this unusual place, with an annoying bird still flying around his head chirping.
Looking around at the endless lush green scenery was doing little to answer G'raha's ever growing list of questions. He tells himself to take a few deep breaths and to try and remember where he was last. His memory feels significantly blurred but G'raha could remember closing his eyes whilst he sat in his high backed chair. A thought strikes him like a clear sounding bell. He was asleep, this was all a fever dream. If he imagines an orange tree one would appear. After a few seconds of concentration, no orange tree appears before him.
G'raha looks at his hands in hopes of finding any answer only to be stunned at what he sees. Both of his arms were made of flesh, there was no spiralling crystal winding up his body. More swarms of endless questions fill his mind. All buzzing like angry bee's in a symphony of discontent.
Next to be brought to G'raha's attention is the state of his robes, or lack of robes to be precise. Instead they had been replaced by a bright white and red puffy set of clothes. His slightly loose shirt and knee length shorts are made of soft white cotton. In place of his usual hood is a grandiose velvety red cape. However, expertly placed holes in the hood let his ears be free from the capes confines. Short white bobby socks adorn his feet allowing his shiny red buckled shoes to look even brighter at the contrast.
To say G'raha is less than thrilled at his current outfit would be an understatement. He begrudgingly knows there is little point in dwelling on his new odd looking getup.
Now if this really was a dream the old classic pinch test method could not be beat. G'raha wastes no time to administer a relatively strong pinch to his upper left arm. Only to squeak in pain right after, his tail fluffs right up and his ears go flat against his head. Both from the unexpected pain and the reality of the situation crashing down upon him.
He lets the lush green grass take his body weight as he slumps over in defeat. The blasted bird which hadn't stop orbiting G'raha's hood covered head finally settles on G'raha's arm and continues to sing its repetitive tune.
Between the swirling self-doubt and an awful feeling of creeping dread, G'raha finally takes notice of the bluebird’s tune. He swears that he has heard it somewhere before. But where? It almost sounded like a fae song a certain well known fae liked to sing.
G'raha rockets up into a sitting position again jolting his body in the process. He hisses through his clenched teeth at his joints screaming in sudden pain and quickly collects himself to address the flustered little bird. "Feo Ul, my friend. I have had enough of your pranks. Please release me from this dream with post-haste."
The little blue bird just blinks owlishly at G'raha and happily chirps in response.
G'raha tries again in a more desperate tone. "Please, Feo Ul. You can't expect me to untangle your vague riddles with so little time remaining for our new found friend's safe travels home."
Silence is his only response and G'raha pouts maturely for a few more moments, before letting out a deep sigh of defeat. "Fine I shall entertain your game for the time being. You leave me with little choice after all."
The little bluebird just happily chirps and flies away leaving a slightly sulking G'raha Tia to follow.