5 Ash 120
”Curse this cold.”
Faine shook their head and stomped their feet like a dog, sending specks of ice flying everywhere. They had run through the first pair of open gates they saw and found temporary respite under the small awning of what appeared to be a shop. All around them, the flurry of snow fell in sheets of white with no sign of relenting.
On the first day of Final Solstice, the Fae had begun their long held tradition of seasonal transformation. Piles of wood had already been cut and stacked, food stores replenished, boots oiled. Glamouring was the final step, as it always left them easier to tire. With the hearth blazing merrily and every window barred shut, they had lain themselves on their bed, taking great pains to slow their metabolism and condense their body so that heat could be conserved. It was not until the next morning that the process was completed, and as a final touch they had shorn everything below the tips of their ears.
Now, blades of moss-green hair fell just past their eyes, the freedom from branches and berries weighing down their head both celebrated and missed.
And yet...somehow, in spite of all that preparation, the cold still bit and cut as it pleased.
For a moment, Faine contemplated going back out. There were, after all, few things they hated more than wasted time. But no sooner had they taken a step forward than a blast of particularly nasty wind smack them square in the face, covering them in snow.
The Fae sighed in resignation. Turning to face the door, they tried the handle and, relieved to find it unlocked, stepped wearily into the shop.
As soon as the door shut behind them, a sense of calm washed over their chilled form. Snow began melting into driblets, though Faine paid them no mind, focused as they were on absorbing the warm and dimly lit room. A foyer of sorts, if they were to guess. The wood floors were smooth and clean, the curtains appealing in their plushness. Somewhere beyond the waiting room they could hear a fire crackling merrily. It made them remember all the times they and Mother had joined with traveling caravans, jolted about in rickety old wagons as they were shown all the little ways one's fortunes could be told. Stars, tea leaves, lines on palms. How fascinating all of it had been.
Of course, the quiet, earthbound shop made for a very different sort of environment. It lent the air within it a sort of weight, of seriousness. Not unlike, Faine realized distantly, the heavy silence of their mountain home. Many of the fauna had gone to sleep, leaving mostly rocks and trees to keep the hermit company.
Faine craned their neck to look for whoever was in charge, but saw no one. Not wanting to seem like a loiterer, dripping a small puddle onto the floor as they were, they cleared their throat and sent a muted "Hello?" into the stillness.
Common ❀Valasren
