An Interview with Colby Lykin by Chloe Leftfeet
Chloe Leftfeet looks around her at the swamp in dismay. "Ooooo, ick!" she says in disgust. "Messy!" She calls out, "Hello? Umm...anyone?" she shivers a bit as she studies the dark, mysterious woods and very very mucky swampy ground in front of her.
Colby Lykin: Warm campfire light glints off the satyr's eyes as he watches the lady from the town stumble about the Hive swamplands. A wry grin cracks his lips. A crow responds to her call with a cry of its own.
Chloe Leftfeet walks forward, stepping gingerly and muttering under her breath, "Oooo, icky. So icky."
Colby Lykin marvels at her attire. The fact that her dress hadn't been snagged by root or fae was a marvel in itself, judging by her awkward footing. The satyr lets out a low chuckle.
Chloe Leftfeet looks around her at the sound in the very, very spooky forest, to see someone standing above her by a fire. She jumps back a bit and utters a ladylike shriek. "Mister! You scared me."
Colby Lykin Smoke from the campfire mingles with the misty swamp air. Satyr horns dip slightly. "Milady, perhaps you are lost. Have you come in search of the feast eternal?" The spreading grin on his face gleams with the light of the flame.
Chloe Leftfeet, "Feast? I am kinda hungry, I guess. But I hafta find a person. Do you know someone named Colby? I guess he's an important...umm....Dru-id around here. I asked at the Swan and they sent me here. But it's SO messy....." She wails a bit.
Colby Lykin: Among the fireflies, motes of light in the deep shadows of the Elderwoods form pairs that blink in the darkness. A breeze blows through the trees. Rustling leaves shimmer with life of their own. "Someone named Colby?" The satyr watches her closely as tiny voices echo in laughter around them. "Who might be asking after said 'dru-id'" He asks, mimicking her tone.
Chloe Leftfeet's skin colors a bit more red, "You don't hafta make fun, mister. Dishan asked me to come here special and talk to Mister Colby." She looks down at the sodden earth that marks her sandal and starts muttering again under her breath. Her teeth gritted, "He SO owes me for this. Vampires... fine. Bard...no problem. Swamp?? BIG problem. And my clothes... never the same. Never."
Colby Lykin: "Emissary of Dishan, is it?" Wooden pipe clicks between the satyr's teeth. "Do you come with a message then..." He pauses, waiting for her name. He regards her with a curious stare.
Chloe Leftfeet looks back at him curiously, ignoring for the moment the mud between her toes (ick) and the odd wet, earthy reek of the swamp. "Umm.....sorta, yes. He wanted me to come and ask Colby some questions." She eyes the deep woods around her and listens to the strange sounds of the swamp, and adds in a quick rushing chirp, "Nothing personal, honest. Just whatever he feels like saying. That's all."
Colby Lykin arches a brow. "Questions for Colby, from an emissary of Dishan? How curious. Perhaps we will let him know." Tiny chittering laughter fills the air around them. "He might call at the tavern. But who would he ask for? Dishan?" One arm braces behind his back. The other wafts pipe smoke through the air.
Chloe Leftfeet looks down at the ground again, frowning, then glances up with a faint sheen of tears in her chocolate eyes. "I know I'm not smart. I know I'm just a human. But even a barmaid deserves respect, you know? And what's *your* name, mister?"
Colby Lykin regards her with cool eyes, "I am known as the Brewmaster." He takes a pull from his pipe. "Tricksy Hiveling." Another draw. "Shadow hunter, when it suits me." His grin takes on canine properties, lowered brow, a turn of the head. Horns glow warmly against black shadows. "Elder of the Hive." He clicks his tongue to his teeth. "Purveyor of all things fine and decadent." He waves his arm about him. "Sentinel of the Elderwoods." He looks back to her, eyes cool and dark. "And one not to trifle with strangers." Both hands clasp behind his back, pipe clamped between teeth.
Chloe Leftfeet turns just a bit more pale, "Umm....all right. I'm Chloe....umm...Leftfeet. And you aren't very nice," she mutters with a trace of defiance. As her body heats, the scent of vanilla would waft gently around her.
Colby Lykin breaths deep, drawing coal warmed air through lit pipe. Roving eyes take in her composure. One heartbeat, two. Smile spreads. A hand is extended, "Where are my manners, lady Chloe. Chloe Leftfeet. Welcome, welcome to the Heart of the Elderwoods- the Hivelands. Home to the unseelie faefolk of the Hive." His arm sweeps back, fingers relaxed. A welcoming gesture. "Do come and sit by the fire with us." Tiny eyes blink in the previously empty air around them. Slight shadowy forms flicker on the edge of sight. "Colby of the Hive." He flourishes a grand bow as if she were royalty among them. "At your service, milady." The rogue twinkle in his eye belies the courtly gesture.
Chloe Leftfeet hmmphs, "Well!" She stomps her foot in annoyance at his troublesome nature, then yells "YECCHHH!" as the muddy water cascades up and over her skirt, soaking her to midthigh and even splashing onto her blouse. "Oh!!!! Ruined!!!" She looks down at her outfit and then eyes the satyr. "Dishan..." she growls under her breath.
Colby Lykin: The satyr lets out a laugh that echoes throughout the dark swamplands. "Come, come. Have a drink. Share your tale with us." Wavering shadows take shape as playful pixies surround their wayward guest. "Drink and food for the lady!" The satyr's hands clap, pipe clenched between teeth. "Now, what is it that your friend wishes for us to discuss?" Firelight glints playfully from his eye.
Chloe Leftfeet nods doubtfully, hunched miserably as far from her own wet muddy clothing as she can get. She clambers slowly and sloppily up the hill to the fire. "Good drink and food?" she asks hopefully and gets as close to the fire as she comfortably can, in her near-bare muddy feet.
Colby Lykin: Mirth taunts the edge of the satyrs eye as he watcher her approach the warmth of the flames. "The best drink in all the lands." He is quite confident in his boast as pixie borne trays offer Hive mead for all. "Come, warm your feet by the fire." He offers with a gesture as trays of tasty treats soon follow.
Chloe Leftfeet squeals, "Ooooh! I take it back. You *are* nice, Mister Colby!" She eagerly picks up a glass of mead and prepares to test it quite professionally, and studies the snacks curiously. "What kind of things are these?"
Colby Lykin purses his lips, finger tapping chin, "This, I believe, is a savory tart." Pipe nodding over one plump pastry. "Truffles." His voice trails as he regards the next treat in line. "Perhaps you might avoid these." Plump fruits that seem to glow with a light of their own. "Save those for another time..." He trails off. "Oh!" He declares as he reaches for a dark candied treat. "Strawbebes." He hmms, eyes closed as he pops the candy into his mouth.
Chloe Leftfeet nods and studies the selection with a practiced interest, "One of these, " as she picks up a savory tart, "..and one of these.." to the truffles. "Oh! And definitely one of those," as she takes a large candied fruit. She begins to put them all into her apron pocket to pull out one at a time and stops in dismay, her fingers stretched out holding the glass of mead and the tart and the truffle and the fruit. Finally, she pops the fruit whole into her mouth and begins to chew, her eyes wide from its flavor and also from the effort of holding all those bits of food and the drink, too.
Colby Lykin licks surgery syrup from his fingers as he watches her eat. "My aren't you a hungry one. Perhaps they don't feed you enough where you come from." He glances to glowing pixies floating about them in the air. Nods as a rather large toad croaks nearby. "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Gregor." He rubs his chin as he watches her balance several treats along with the drink in her hands. "Perhaps we should keep her safe here in the Hivelands forever, seeing to her every need that she never feel hungry or lack companionship ever again." A playful smile spreads across his face as he takes a deep drink of Hive mead from his mug. Sharp teeth gleam as bobbing pixies draw in close around them.
Chloe Leftfeet pales a bit and shakes her head frantically, still chewing the fruit but even more quickly. Finally she swallows, and squeaks out, "No, that's okay. I get enough food. I just cook, that's all. I like to try other cooking." Her mouth dry, she takes a quick swallow of the mead and her eyes widen. She holds it in her mouth and stops talking for a minute or two.
Colby Lykin swirls his drink idly in his hand, watching her poise and her mannerisms. There is an amused gleam to his eye. "Very well, Lady Chloe. But should you change your mind." His arm sweeps out over the dark swamplands. "The Hive folk will surely see to your every need." Pixies to either side of her reach out to stroke her long dark hair.
Chloe Leftfeet freezes for a moment as the small winged folks play with her hair, then giggles, "You're cute!" she tells them. "I'm sure it's really nice of you mister, to invite me and all," she says, something darker visible much farther back in her eyes, "...but that's all right." She looks around herself and sets her food and drink on a stump near her, then turns back to face him. "Can I ask my questions now?" she chirps.
Colby Lykin frowns slightly as she sets the food and drink aside. One brow arches slightly, "I suppose you may." He takes a step back, looking over her mud stained dress. "Surely that does not mean the drinking must end." He looks again to her eyes, tipped mug of mead hiding much of his face below his own eyes.
Chloe Leftfeet chirps, "Nope!" She turns back to pick up the mug of mead, taking another slow sip, "I just didn't want to drop it!" She carefully picks up the savory tart and takes a bite, holding the bite in her mouth and sorting out the flavors she can identify within it.
Colby Lykin: His smile returns. "Well then. Ask as you will. Query away!" He waves his hand through the air. "And we will feast and dine all the while!" Pixies dip and swirl, fresh trays of treats and drink appear around them.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, "You are really really nice!" She hiccups very slightly, then blushes. "Umm...how long have you been here, Mister Colby?"
Colby Lykin rubs his chin with a hand " Just short of Five years now, in the greater standard time." His eyes grow distant. "Much have I witnessed through the years." Hollow eyes glance around the swamplands. "Many friends have come and gone." His stance changes as he looks through the dark mists out to the vast ocean beyond. "Lands rise and fall, lost forever to the dark abyss..." His voice grows soft, trailing off.
Chloe Leftfeet sighs and says softly, "That's so sad, mister. Do you miss them?"
Colby Lykin wipes forearm across chin, following a long pull from his drink. "I do, yes. Such cherished memories remain." He takes a long slow breath. A barrel of mead hovers over his outstretched mug, held aloft by a small bevy of tiny faefolk. "Oh the dances, the feasts!" Plants near the Arch Druid's hooves twist and curl, tiny vines reach tenderly into the dark night air. "And the ceremonies!" Firelight appears to glint in his eye, or did that flicker of light come from within?
Chloe Leftfeet blinks as she watches the plants unfurl near the Archdruid's feet, somehow even more surprising and magical than the faefolk pouring mead for him. "Back then, what plans did you have? What did you think you would do?" she asks him softly, reluctant to disturb the magic hanging in the night.
Faefolk of the Hive begin to crowd in around them, listening with curious interest. Redcaps and pixies. Brownies and elves. Drink flows freely amongst them, most generously among the hooved folk of the Hive. They are quiet, for the unseelie folk, though they do not sit still. The satyr's distant eyes focus again upon his curious interrogator. "Back then? Survival." He states simply. "The unseelie fae of the Hive were strong, much stronger than those I called family before. My needs were quite simple, really. And they had plenty of mead to satisfy them." The pleasant gleam returns to his eye. "Mead and other most delightful treats!" He declares, sloshing the mead in his mug before emptying it with one decadent gulp.
Chloe Leftfeet, "And what do you dream of now?" she asks gently, lost in the spirit of the night. She suddenly remembers the half-eaten savory tart in her hand and takes another bite to finish it, a quiet "mmmm.." coming from her throat at its taste. She takes another slow sip of mead and waits curiously for his answer.
A current of quiet energy builds in the party gathering around them. One particularly warty little imp clamors for a refill. A fae of sublime beauty tosses glimmering locks of hair over her shoulder. Her eyes blacker than the blackest night seem to refuse to return even a glimmer of reflected firelight. Nymphs and satyrs perch on rocks and trees. Mead flowing freely between them. "Dream." Colby looks out over the gathered Hivelings. "I dream of growing my tribe to the glory of what it once was in days long gone." A wistful smile graces his lips as he watches two tiny pixies pull at a truffle they had both set their sights on.
Chloe Leftfeet listens quietly, her eyes drawn to the same vision that he sees as she too looks over the gathered fae. "Can you?" she asks almost under her breath, reverently, in the spirit of his dream.
Haunting music starts up from deep in the shadows. Fae on the fringes of the firelight begin to dance. Twisting forms, wings hooves and horns. Mysterious fruit glowing with dangerous dark appear on serving trays. Fae that eat of it seem to lose themselves in blind stupor, staring vaguely into space with idiot grins overtaking their face. The satyr's face is solemn as he locks eyes with her. "To be quite honest, I do not know." One pixie hovers near, large sorrowful eyes crown pouty lips. Colby reaches out to her, gently wiping a tear from sullen face. "Cheer up, little one. We make do with what we have, as we always have done." He declares softly, his warm smile bringing light to the wee pixies eyes. Around them the soft music continues to grow.
Chloe Leftfeet: smiles, wiping a tear from her own eye before she turns to take another tidbit off the stump she is using as a plate--not even thinking at the moment of how messy it is, or her ruined outfit. She nods to the satyr, respectfully. "I guess that's fair," she murmurs finally. "I guess nobody knows, ever."
Colby Lykin smiles to Chloe, "One of the few truths life has to offer. What can truly be known of the fate the dawn will bring." He taps a hoof lightly as the sound of drums echo through the swamplands. Tender fae feet tread moss and mud. Hooves beat counterpoint rhythms upon the rocks overhead. The sound builds, though it does not overpower the moment. Dark colors permeate the gathering. Flowers of purple and blue. Crimson blossoms beat as hearts blood red adorn hair and horns, wings and feet. "But then, that is why today we drink." He raises his mug into the air. "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow things may just never be the same." He proceeds to empty another mug of Hive mead with gluttonous glee.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles. "Oh, that is SO true!" she crows. The firelight glances off her hair and her brown eyes, her innocent smile and the healing mark on her right cheek. She hiccups again very slightly, and takes another treat off the stump, popping the treat whole into her mouth and chewing happily.
The somber mood does little to impede the fete growing around them. Those in the know, know it takes little to draw the faefolk into song and dance. Trays bearing the psychedelic dark fruits pass freely among them. Some sit enticingly near their curious visitor's reaching hands. "What is it really, that draws you into our hallowed unseelie lands, lady Chloe? One may begin to doubt your intent to ever leave." The song of a distant siren mingles with the melody of pan flutes in the dark night air. "You do seem most at home amongst our Hive." Satyr grin glints warmth against the darkness of the shadows.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, taking another sip of mead. "You are all just so nice, Mister Colby! I did come to ask you questions, honest. That was all? But....well..." she finally says all in a rush, "...but I know I'm just a....just me, but can I come back sometimes?" She watches a pixie flittering by, and sways slightly to the music. 'It's all...just so....so magic," she giggles.
Some of the fae look upon her answer with curious intent. Others seem not to notice them any longer as they embrace arms and twine legs. A low murmur fills the air amongst them. Haunting melodies, the song of the faefolk of the Hive. The melodic staccato of a lyre plucks a magic of its own while tribal drums invite stoic feet to betray their nature. "Perhaps, lady Chloe, perhaps you may." He smiles at her over the rim of his mug, studying her composure. "Though one might question whether questions were indeed your true intent." He flashes her a playful wink, popping some of the dark decadent fruit into his own mouth. Pupils respond with proper a moment of dilation, returning to normal with practiced druidic focus.
Chloe Leftfeet smiles and sighs, looking at the empty stump behind her as all her treats have been finished. "It was really nice meeting you, Mister Colby," she says with a bright smile that doesn't quite touch her eyes. "Thanks for a wonderful talk and a great party." She smiles out over the fae folk around them, and looks at the satyr a bit more intently. "Can I go now? And...umm...if I come back, can I go then too?"
Quiet song builds with low guttural voice of satyr and gnome. Redcaps flaunt their blood-soaked coverings as they cavort with unusually large newts and toads. A dark silhouette of ancient crocodilian nature twists within the mists just beyond the light of the fire. "Leaving so soon?" Arm sweeps out. "Why, the dance has only just begun!" Satyr gaze looks over the swamp drenched form of their curious guest.
Chloe Leftfeet frowns, studying the more ominous faefolk now visible in the night, and crosses her arms to glare at the satyr with her eyes narrowing. "Hmmph. Are you like the handsy men at the Tavern? Talk all sweet and then you get pushy?"
Monkey armed grip dangle light bodies from dark shadowed branches high overhead. Campfire light sways with the enticing magic of the faery song. Colby looks upon their guest with dark shadowed eyes. "The handsy men at the tavern would not fare as well as you have this eve, lady Chloe. You have brought us pleasure this eve. You are indeed free to come and go as you please." He takes a long drink from his mug. "Perhaps the next time you will grace us with the pleasure of your dance." Laughter flashes behind his eyes as he recalls her rather clumsy entrance a short time earlier.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, her good humor restored as the satyr assures her she is free to go. "I'd be glad to! I've been told I'm a very GOOD dancer!" She attempts a polite curtsey to the Archdruid, and catches herself automatically on the nearest log as she starts to fall sideways. She scrambles up, chirping "It's the truth!" and turns to trip and stumble her way out of the swamp.
Faery laughter echoes deep into the night air. The rhythm of the dance seems to infect the distant sound of ocean waves crashing against the rocks. "We look forward to seeing just how good a dancer you may be, lady Chloe Leftfeet." The satyr sips slowly of his drink as he watches their guest depart. The dance of the fae would continue long into the night. Laughter and melodies drifting over the dark of the forest would cause townsfolk at the edge of Myder to lock doors and windows up tight. They know well the dangers that lurk by the light of the full moon deep in the dark shadows of the Elderwoods, when the song of the unseelie fae of the Hive fills the night air.
Chloe Leftfeet continues on out of the swamp, faint splashes and cries of "Oooh, ick!" echoing back through the night air as she slowly departs.
Colby Lykin: Warm campfire light glints off the satyr's eyes as he watches the lady from the town stumble about the Hive swamplands. A wry grin cracks his lips. A crow responds to her call with a cry of its own.
Chloe Leftfeet walks forward, stepping gingerly and muttering under her breath, "Oooo, icky. So icky."
Colby Lykin marvels at her attire. The fact that her dress hadn't been snagged by root or fae was a marvel in itself, judging by her awkward footing. The satyr lets out a low chuckle.
Chloe Leftfeet looks around her at the sound in the very, very spooky forest, to see someone standing above her by a fire. She jumps back a bit and utters a ladylike shriek. "Mister! You scared me."
Colby Lykin Smoke from the campfire mingles with the misty swamp air. Satyr horns dip slightly. "Milady, perhaps you are lost. Have you come in search of the feast eternal?" The spreading grin on his face gleams with the light of the flame.
Chloe Leftfeet, "Feast? I am kinda hungry, I guess. But I hafta find a person. Do you know someone named Colby? I guess he's an important...umm....Dru-id around here. I asked at the Swan and they sent me here. But it's SO messy....." She wails a bit.
Colby Lykin: Among the fireflies, motes of light in the deep shadows of the Elderwoods form pairs that blink in the darkness. A breeze blows through the trees. Rustling leaves shimmer with life of their own. "Someone named Colby?" The satyr watches her closely as tiny voices echo in laughter around them. "Who might be asking after said 'dru-id'" He asks, mimicking her tone.
Chloe Leftfeet's skin colors a bit more red, "You don't hafta make fun, mister. Dishan asked me to come here special and talk to Mister Colby." She looks down at the sodden earth that marks her sandal and starts muttering again under her breath. Her teeth gritted, "He SO owes me for this. Vampires... fine. Bard...no problem. Swamp?? BIG problem. And my clothes... never the same. Never."
Colby Lykin: "Emissary of Dishan, is it?" Wooden pipe clicks between the satyr's teeth. "Do you come with a message then..." He pauses, waiting for her name. He regards her with a curious stare.
Chloe Leftfeet looks back at him curiously, ignoring for the moment the mud between her toes (ick) and the odd wet, earthy reek of the swamp. "Umm.....sorta, yes. He wanted me to come and ask Colby some questions." She eyes the deep woods around her and listens to the strange sounds of the swamp, and adds in a quick rushing chirp, "Nothing personal, honest. Just whatever he feels like saying. That's all."
Colby Lykin arches a brow. "Questions for Colby, from an emissary of Dishan? How curious. Perhaps we will let him know." Tiny chittering laughter fills the air around them. "He might call at the tavern. But who would he ask for? Dishan?" One arm braces behind his back. The other wafts pipe smoke through the air.
Chloe Leftfeet looks down at the ground again, frowning, then glances up with a faint sheen of tears in her chocolate eyes. "I know I'm not smart. I know I'm just a human. But even a barmaid deserves respect, you know? And what's *your* name, mister?"
Colby Lykin regards her with cool eyes, "I am known as the Brewmaster." He takes a pull from his pipe. "Tricksy Hiveling." Another draw. "Shadow hunter, when it suits me." His grin takes on canine properties, lowered brow, a turn of the head. Horns glow warmly against black shadows. "Elder of the Hive." He clicks his tongue to his teeth. "Purveyor of all things fine and decadent." He waves his arm about him. "Sentinel of the Elderwoods." He looks back to her, eyes cool and dark. "And one not to trifle with strangers." Both hands clasp behind his back, pipe clamped between teeth.
Chloe Leftfeet turns just a bit more pale, "Umm....all right. I'm Chloe....umm...Leftfeet. And you aren't very nice," she mutters with a trace of defiance. As her body heats, the scent of vanilla would waft gently around her.
Colby Lykin breaths deep, drawing coal warmed air through lit pipe. Roving eyes take in her composure. One heartbeat, two. Smile spreads. A hand is extended, "Where are my manners, lady Chloe. Chloe Leftfeet. Welcome, welcome to the Heart of the Elderwoods- the Hivelands. Home to the unseelie faefolk of the Hive." His arm sweeps back, fingers relaxed. A welcoming gesture. "Do come and sit by the fire with us." Tiny eyes blink in the previously empty air around them. Slight shadowy forms flicker on the edge of sight. "Colby of the Hive." He flourishes a grand bow as if she were royalty among them. "At your service, milady." The rogue twinkle in his eye belies the courtly gesture.
Chloe Leftfeet hmmphs, "Well!" She stomps her foot in annoyance at his troublesome nature, then yells "YECCHHH!" as the muddy water cascades up and over her skirt, soaking her to midthigh and even splashing onto her blouse. "Oh!!!! Ruined!!!" She looks down at her outfit and then eyes the satyr. "Dishan..." she growls under her breath.
Colby Lykin: The satyr lets out a laugh that echoes throughout the dark swamplands. "Come, come. Have a drink. Share your tale with us." Wavering shadows take shape as playful pixies surround their wayward guest. "Drink and food for the lady!" The satyr's hands clap, pipe clenched between teeth. "Now, what is it that your friend wishes for us to discuss?" Firelight glints playfully from his eye.
Chloe Leftfeet nods doubtfully, hunched miserably as far from her own wet muddy clothing as she can get. She clambers slowly and sloppily up the hill to the fire. "Good drink and food?" she asks hopefully and gets as close to the fire as she comfortably can, in her near-bare muddy feet.
Colby Lykin: Mirth taunts the edge of the satyrs eye as he watcher her approach the warmth of the flames. "The best drink in all the lands." He is quite confident in his boast as pixie borne trays offer Hive mead for all. "Come, warm your feet by the fire." He offers with a gesture as trays of tasty treats soon follow.
Chloe Leftfeet squeals, "Ooooh! I take it back. You *are* nice, Mister Colby!" She eagerly picks up a glass of mead and prepares to test it quite professionally, and studies the snacks curiously. "What kind of things are these?"
Colby Lykin purses his lips, finger tapping chin, "This, I believe, is a savory tart." Pipe nodding over one plump pastry. "Truffles." His voice trails as he regards the next treat in line. "Perhaps you might avoid these." Plump fruits that seem to glow with a light of their own. "Save those for another time..." He trails off. "Oh!" He declares as he reaches for a dark candied treat. "Strawbebes." He hmms, eyes closed as he pops the candy into his mouth.
Chloe Leftfeet nods and studies the selection with a practiced interest, "One of these, " as she picks up a savory tart, "..and one of these.." to the truffles. "Oh! And definitely one of those," as she takes a large candied fruit. She begins to put them all into her apron pocket to pull out one at a time and stops in dismay, her fingers stretched out holding the glass of mead and the tart and the truffle and the fruit. Finally, she pops the fruit whole into her mouth and begins to chew, her eyes wide from its flavor and also from the effort of holding all those bits of food and the drink, too.
Colby Lykin licks surgery syrup from his fingers as he watches her eat. "My aren't you a hungry one. Perhaps they don't feed you enough where you come from." He glances to glowing pixies floating about them in the air. Nods as a rather large toad croaks nearby. "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Gregor." He rubs his chin as he watches her balance several treats along with the drink in her hands. "Perhaps we should keep her safe here in the Hivelands forever, seeing to her every need that she never feel hungry or lack companionship ever again." A playful smile spreads across his face as he takes a deep drink of Hive mead from his mug. Sharp teeth gleam as bobbing pixies draw in close around them.
Chloe Leftfeet pales a bit and shakes her head frantically, still chewing the fruit but even more quickly. Finally she swallows, and squeaks out, "No, that's okay. I get enough food. I just cook, that's all. I like to try other cooking." Her mouth dry, she takes a quick swallow of the mead and her eyes widen. She holds it in her mouth and stops talking for a minute or two.
Colby Lykin swirls his drink idly in his hand, watching her poise and her mannerisms. There is an amused gleam to his eye. "Very well, Lady Chloe. But should you change your mind." His arm sweeps out over the dark swamplands. "The Hive folk will surely see to your every need." Pixies to either side of her reach out to stroke her long dark hair.
Chloe Leftfeet freezes for a moment as the small winged folks play with her hair, then giggles, "You're cute!" she tells them. "I'm sure it's really nice of you mister, to invite me and all," she says, something darker visible much farther back in her eyes, "...but that's all right." She looks around herself and sets her food and drink on a stump near her, then turns back to face him. "Can I ask my questions now?" she chirps.
Colby Lykin frowns slightly as she sets the food and drink aside. One brow arches slightly, "I suppose you may." He takes a step back, looking over her mud stained dress. "Surely that does not mean the drinking must end." He looks again to her eyes, tipped mug of mead hiding much of his face below his own eyes.
Chloe Leftfeet chirps, "Nope!" She turns back to pick up the mug of mead, taking another slow sip, "I just didn't want to drop it!" She carefully picks up the savory tart and takes a bite, holding the bite in her mouth and sorting out the flavors she can identify within it.
Colby Lykin: His smile returns. "Well then. Ask as you will. Query away!" He waves his hand through the air. "And we will feast and dine all the while!" Pixies dip and swirl, fresh trays of treats and drink appear around them.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, "You are really really nice!" She hiccups very slightly, then blushes. "Umm...how long have you been here, Mister Colby?"
Colby Lykin rubs his chin with a hand " Just short of Five years now, in the greater standard time." His eyes grow distant. "Much have I witnessed through the years." Hollow eyes glance around the swamplands. "Many friends have come and gone." His stance changes as he looks through the dark mists out to the vast ocean beyond. "Lands rise and fall, lost forever to the dark abyss..." His voice grows soft, trailing off.
Chloe Leftfeet sighs and says softly, "That's so sad, mister. Do you miss them?"
Colby Lykin wipes forearm across chin, following a long pull from his drink. "I do, yes. Such cherished memories remain." He takes a long slow breath. A barrel of mead hovers over his outstretched mug, held aloft by a small bevy of tiny faefolk. "Oh the dances, the feasts!" Plants near the Arch Druid's hooves twist and curl, tiny vines reach tenderly into the dark night air. "And the ceremonies!" Firelight appears to glint in his eye, or did that flicker of light come from within?
Chloe Leftfeet blinks as she watches the plants unfurl near the Archdruid's feet, somehow even more surprising and magical than the faefolk pouring mead for him. "Back then, what plans did you have? What did you think you would do?" she asks him softly, reluctant to disturb the magic hanging in the night.
Faefolk of the Hive begin to crowd in around them, listening with curious interest. Redcaps and pixies. Brownies and elves. Drink flows freely amongst them, most generously among the hooved folk of the Hive. They are quiet, for the unseelie folk, though they do not sit still. The satyr's distant eyes focus again upon his curious interrogator. "Back then? Survival." He states simply. "The unseelie fae of the Hive were strong, much stronger than those I called family before. My needs were quite simple, really. And they had plenty of mead to satisfy them." The pleasant gleam returns to his eye. "Mead and other most delightful treats!" He declares, sloshing the mead in his mug before emptying it with one decadent gulp.
Chloe Leftfeet, "And what do you dream of now?" she asks gently, lost in the spirit of the night. She suddenly remembers the half-eaten savory tart in her hand and takes another bite to finish it, a quiet "mmmm.." coming from her throat at its taste. She takes another slow sip of mead and waits curiously for his answer.
A current of quiet energy builds in the party gathering around them. One particularly warty little imp clamors for a refill. A fae of sublime beauty tosses glimmering locks of hair over her shoulder. Her eyes blacker than the blackest night seem to refuse to return even a glimmer of reflected firelight. Nymphs and satyrs perch on rocks and trees. Mead flowing freely between them. "Dream." Colby looks out over the gathered Hivelings. "I dream of growing my tribe to the glory of what it once was in days long gone." A wistful smile graces his lips as he watches two tiny pixies pull at a truffle they had both set their sights on.
Chloe Leftfeet listens quietly, her eyes drawn to the same vision that he sees as she too looks over the gathered fae. "Can you?" she asks almost under her breath, reverently, in the spirit of his dream.
Haunting music starts up from deep in the shadows. Fae on the fringes of the firelight begin to dance. Twisting forms, wings hooves and horns. Mysterious fruit glowing with dangerous dark appear on serving trays. Fae that eat of it seem to lose themselves in blind stupor, staring vaguely into space with idiot grins overtaking their face. The satyr's face is solemn as he locks eyes with her. "To be quite honest, I do not know." One pixie hovers near, large sorrowful eyes crown pouty lips. Colby reaches out to her, gently wiping a tear from sullen face. "Cheer up, little one. We make do with what we have, as we always have done." He declares softly, his warm smile bringing light to the wee pixies eyes. Around them the soft music continues to grow.
Chloe Leftfeet: smiles, wiping a tear from her own eye before she turns to take another tidbit off the stump she is using as a plate--not even thinking at the moment of how messy it is, or her ruined outfit. She nods to the satyr, respectfully. "I guess that's fair," she murmurs finally. "I guess nobody knows, ever."
Colby Lykin smiles to Chloe, "One of the few truths life has to offer. What can truly be known of the fate the dawn will bring." He taps a hoof lightly as the sound of drums echo through the swamplands. Tender fae feet tread moss and mud. Hooves beat counterpoint rhythms upon the rocks overhead. The sound builds, though it does not overpower the moment. Dark colors permeate the gathering. Flowers of purple and blue. Crimson blossoms beat as hearts blood red adorn hair and horns, wings and feet. "But then, that is why today we drink." He raises his mug into the air. "Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow things may just never be the same." He proceeds to empty another mug of Hive mead with gluttonous glee.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles. "Oh, that is SO true!" she crows. The firelight glances off her hair and her brown eyes, her innocent smile and the healing mark on her right cheek. She hiccups again very slightly, and takes another treat off the stump, popping the treat whole into her mouth and chewing happily.
The somber mood does little to impede the fete growing around them. Those in the know, know it takes little to draw the faefolk into song and dance. Trays bearing the psychedelic dark fruits pass freely among them. Some sit enticingly near their curious visitor's reaching hands. "What is it really, that draws you into our hallowed unseelie lands, lady Chloe? One may begin to doubt your intent to ever leave." The song of a distant siren mingles with the melody of pan flutes in the dark night air. "You do seem most at home amongst our Hive." Satyr grin glints warmth against the darkness of the shadows.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, taking another sip of mead. "You are all just so nice, Mister Colby! I did come to ask you questions, honest. That was all? But....well..." she finally says all in a rush, "...but I know I'm just a....just me, but can I come back sometimes?" She watches a pixie flittering by, and sways slightly to the music. 'It's all...just so....so magic," she giggles.
Some of the fae look upon her answer with curious intent. Others seem not to notice them any longer as they embrace arms and twine legs. A low murmur fills the air amongst them. Haunting melodies, the song of the faefolk of the Hive. The melodic staccato of a lyre plucks a magic of its own while tribal drums invite stoic feet to betray their nature. "Perhaps, lady Chloe, perhaps you may." He smiles at her over the rim of his mug, studying her composure. "Though one might question whether questions were indeed your true intent." He flashes her a playful wink, popping some of the dark decadent fruit into his own mouth. Pupils respond with proper a moment of dilation, returning to normal with practiced druidic focus.
Chloe Leftfeet smiles and sighs, looking at the empty stump behind her as all her treats have been finished. "It was really nice meeting you, Mister Colby," she says with a bright smile that doesn't quite touch her eyes. "Thanks for a wonderful talk and a great party." She smiles out over the fae folk around them, and looks at the satyr a bit more intently. "Can I go now? And...umm...if I come back, can I go then too?"
Quiet song builds with low guttural voice of satyr and gnome. Redcaps flaunt their blood-soaked coverings as they cavort with unusually large newts and toads. A dark silhouette of ancient crocodilian nature twists within the mists just beyond the light of the fire. "Leaving so soon?" Arm sweeps out. "Why, the dance has only just begun!" Satyr gaze looks over the swamp drenched form of their curious guest.
Chloe Leftfeet frowns, studying the more ominous faefolk now visible in the night, and crosses her arms to glare at the satyr with her eyes narrowing. "Hmmph. Are you like the handsy men at the Tavern? Talk all sweet and then you get pushy?"
Monkey armed grip dangle light bodies from dark shadowed branches high overhead. Campfire light sways with the enticing magic of the faery song. Colby looks upon their guest with dark shadowed eyes. "The handsy men at the tavern would not fare as well as you have this eve, lady Chloe. You have brought us pleasure this eve. You are indeed free to come and go as you please." He takes a long drink from his mug. "Perhaps the next time you will grace us with the pleasure of your dance." Laughter flashes behind his eyes as he recalls her rather clumsy entrance a short time earlier.
Chloe Leftfeet giggles again, her good humor restored as the satyr assures her she is free to go. "I'd be glad to! I've been told I'm a very GOOD dancer!" She attempts a polite curtsey to the Archdruid, and catches herself automatically on the nearest log as she starts to fall sideways. She scrambles up, chirping "It's the truth!" and turns to trip and stumble her way out of the swamp.
Faery laughter echoes deep into the night air. The rhythm of the dance seems to infect the distant sound of ocean waves crashing against the rocks. "We look forward to seeing just how good a dancer you may be, lady Chloe Leftfeet." The satyr sips slowly of his drink as he watches their guest depart. The dance of the fae would continue long into the night. Laughter and melodies drifting over the dark of the forest would cause townsfolk at the edge of Myder to lock doors and windows up tight. They know well the dangers that lurk by the light of the full moon deep in the dark shadows of the Elderwoods, when the song of the unseelie fae of the Hive fills the night air.
Chloe Leftfeet continues on out of the swamp, faint splashes and cries of "Oooh, ick!" echoing back through the night air as she slowly departs.