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Extremely Inexperienced in Matters of the Heart

Summary:

A nameless spark finds its way into Silvermoon Hall.

Notes:

This fic is a continuation of my earlier work Possession is the Nature of the Fae. If you haven't read it, there's no need to- what's relevant for this story will be revealed in this story. For now, all you need to know is that Rerir is in Flins' custody. Isn't that wonderful?

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Prologue - Columbina

Chapter Text

It began after Rerir’s imprisonment, with a spark of kuuvahki no bigger than her hand.

Columbina watched idly as it floated around her head. Such things had always been drawn to her, but usually they gave up and left when it became clear she had nothing to offer them, only returning when she called them with the promise of a favor. This creature, though, simply seemed content to linger around her. She’d made it clear that no gift would be forthcoming in exchange for its presence, but it did not seem to care, or perhaps it didn’t understand. It didn’t annoy her, though, so she didn’t dispel it or force it away. Sometimes, when she was upset, it would alight upon her shoulder. She didn’t know what the gesture was meant to convey, and it didn’t accomplish much of anything, but it wasn’t particularly bad either, so she let it continue. Like most things, it was of no particular concern to her, simply a small light in her isolation that she allowed to stay.

…Or, it should have been. But she was ever so lonely. The Traveler visited, of course, but only on occasion, not that she could begrudge him for it– he was dreadfully busy. He made helping others look easy, made giving all of his time and power for them look like it was nothing at all. Columbina knew very well that it was not nothing.

So she couldn’t dare ask more of him, but this little spark… it stayed. It frankly refused to leave even when she asked, so she certainly owed it no debt (not that she cared much either way for its presence, but she’d been curious what it would do). It flitted around the cavern like a butterfly, seemingly in no hurry and with no particular plan. It dimmed when she slept and played when she was feeling light and asked nothing of her, not ever.

She wasn’t sure when exactly she had let it into her heart, only that when she woke up one day and it was gone, its absence was like a hole in her chest. But really, what should she have expected?

The cavern was hard and cold, and the flowers bled pink. Columbina curled up in a corner, feeling exceptionally weak, and went to sleep.