Chapter Text
Clearsight was very beautiful, as usual. Long grass framed by mighty violet trees, brimming with all sorts of flora found in the feywild- though not commonly, as domains varied extremely, but in the feywild nonetheless.
Éadaoin lounged by the Mirrorpool, watching it shimmer with flecks of all colors. On occasion, the reflection seen in it would be the agonized souls of every unfortunate traveller that came to make a deal with them, but this was not one of those times. Today it was peacefully still, the only disturbance being the ripples caused by the gentle breeze. It did not, however, reflect Éadaoin. How could it reflect the true form of something that didn’t have one? It was all right, as nothing captured their likeness in all its glory anyway. The fey was simply too gorgeous to reflect- as it should be, as it had to be. They did not like mirrors that attempted to imitate their appearance.
Most of Éadaoin’s days were spent like this; an endless loop of boredom and vanity. Nothing happened in Clearsight outside of their notice, and there hadn’t been any folk desperate enough to make a deal with them recently. They cycled through the forms they could turn into, or even made new ones, but nothing seemed to make the time any more interesting. But today, a voice broke the silence.
„Dear Lord Éa-”
Éadaoin promptly tuned it out.
That was unusual. Not the prayer, of course- Éadaoin could hardly keep track of all the cults and sects dedicated to them. What was unusual though, was the fact that the prayer had broken through the silence, when nothing else was let through.
Éadaoin was not the type to answer prayers. The fey preferred to strike a bargain and laugh at the misfortunes of their victims. But would it not be good to know why this has come into their domain? How did it pass all the barriers? Who was this devotee? (They were restless and bored. So, so terribly bored)
The prayer had come from a town that existed somewhere. Éadaoin did not bother to keep track of the names of places, since they changed so much. Every hundred years, a new one would pop up, and be gone in a hundred more. And then languages changed too. It was useless. They did not care to find out about the history of this town.
No, what the fey cared for was how they’d appear into it.
As amusing as it would be, they did not feel like parading into their fronting form (the form they used to appear in front of someone). Despite their love for attention, they did prefer to appear as a beautiful stranger and not the entity people are sworn to.
But they also did not feel like being bland. Éadaoin had more ‚exotic’ tastes when it came to their appearance, wanting to make an impression of tremendous beauty. Éadaoin did not care for conventionality. For now, they took the form of a small and androgynous pink tiefling, with blonde hair and horns similar to that of their fronting form. Unique enough to draw attention, but not enough to draw too much scrutiny.
Keeping to their lavish tastes, they decided on flowing clothes with many, many jewels and chains, gold and silver glinting together like the sun and moon. The fey pulled out a hand mirror that they had, the only mirror in all of Clearsight, and began checking their hair- pointedly ignoring the mole in the shape of a teardrop on the inner corner of their left eye. No matter what, it was always there. An imperfection they could not be rid of.
The fey loathed mirrors. Mirrors could not capture their likeness, their radiance. They only captured form. Éadaoin doubted anything could reflect them.
✧ ✦ ✧
The town was more of a city. There were a lot of people parading through the streets, hailing from every plane and region of the world, as usual humans being more common, while tieflings and drow barely at all. The moon hung over the buildings, illuminating the streets alongside the torchlight. But what Éadaoin noticed were the decorations- larkspur flowers, banners with a five petaled flower, and other iconography commonly dedicated to them. While having a city for them would stroke anyone’s ego, did they do something around here? What could have possibly left an impression? Éadaoin did not remember.
It was pretty though. Eadoain sauntered about the paved roads, hooves clicking against them. They weren’t all too interested in finding their point of being here in the moment, all would come in due time. But alas, their enjoyment had to be ruined.
In a moment of distraction, someone walked right into them. Someone big. They stumbled (was their form too small?). A part of them locked up- who would have the gall to touch them? The familiar nausea rose up, which they desperately pushed down. They fought the urge to go back to their usual size, where nothing could reach them.
The ill feeling was managed for now, but the discomfort remained. One thing that Éadaoin did not like about a concrete form was how limiting they were. But they did not escape this form. Instead, Éadaoin turned to look at the fool that just had to touch them.