Bibbedi-bobbidi-(w)hoo!

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Alright…. Where the fuck was he?

Malachai was possibly still actually a fairy, technically. And fairies were probably well-known for having some kind of tight-knit association with nature - at least that’s what fairy tales had given the public the idea of. But still the young, scruffy man stood out like a plastic spoon in a drawer filled with wooden utensils, standing there in the middle of, what he would guess, was some kind of forest area. Tall trees and bushes and other kinds of terrain surrounded him completely. However, the most bizarre thing about the whole ordeal was how he, for just a moment ago, was chasing through narrow alley ways with the sound of traffic in the distant background at almost all time. And then, out of nowhere; this!

As soon as it clicked for him - which only really took about a second or so - he halted abruptly. Confusion dominating his face as he looked around. At first he stood perfectly still, like a deer in headlights, only really moving his eyes swiftly from side to side. Clearly very suspicious. It could be a trap. An illusion. He could be standing at the edge of a highway, only one step away from walking right into the line of a monster of a truck. But all he saw was forest. He clenched his brows before letting his whole head get in on the action, scanning the area more broadly. It smelled like forest too. Unfamiliarly clean and it was noticeable even with the distant odor of himself combating it. It wasn’t as much that he was smelly that it was the unwatched clothes he wore. And the seemingly constant aroma of smoke that followed him around, really stuck to the dirt on his features and hair.
Then suddenly he defrosted and quickly pulled his head back as if having been slapped with reality and from then on he turned all the way around, half expecting to find a portal leading back to where he was supposed to be, but no; only more forest. “…Hello?” he as the last step of his bewilderment tried asking out load. Waited for a response. Nothing. And he realized how he couldn’t sense anyone either. No humans, that was, because he had seen at least one squirrel. “La vache… Le salaud tricked me!“ This was just perfect. “Putain!” There was absolutely nothing around him that could give him any idea of where he was. The stars weren’t out just yet, and even if they would, he wouldn’t be able to use them for anything. Hell, if he could navigate like that. He knew that the sun rose in the east and set in the west but that was about the extent of his navigational skills. Like, where was all the route signs? Paths?

He looked at his seemingly endless options of directions again, trying to guess which way would bring him back to civilisation, when his nose caught a much more domesticated smell in his personal archive. Smoke? Something was burning and it wasn’t him. The smell was as wooden as the woodland world he was in. However, the whiff of smoke attracted him. Smoke meant fire and fire usually meant some kind of humanoids were present.

The first distance he met with was a sloping a bit and he had to tread carefully to not fall on his ass, gliding down over the spring grass with the help of the completely worn out underside of his shoes and then jumping the last bit down onto more even ground, where he was met by much more cramped forest. But by looking up he noted the faint grey shades of the smoke he detected, so not much thought went through his head before he squeezed through.
And there it was. A house. Smoke rising from the stone chimney. It looked like it belonged, but it didn’t change the fact, that he hadn’t predicted to find one. He had thought he’d find a bon fire. Not an actual house. In the middle of nowhere. His eyes scanned around himself again, finally realizing how the ground beneath one of his feet was softer than the other when he looked down, listed the food and saw the poor plant he had unintentionally trampled when stumbling through. Silently he sucked air through her teeth as he thought of the wrath this possibly would be brought down over him, if the owner came to know about this. Speaking of the owner. He promptly looked back up an around for the second time, mainly focusing on the house. Was there even anyone there? The chimney smoked so there should be fire inside. And if there was fire, then the house wasn’t unoccupied. But he saw no movement anywhere. Not on the area around the house and not through any of the windows, he could see from where he was standing. So he moved closer, catching the rippling sound of running water which she hadn’t noticed before. This place felt nothing like what he was used to. So much so that he started worrying whether or not he was still in his original world. Or dimension for that matter.

The door was open when he arrived in front of it. Not gaping but it hadn’t caught the hook probably when someone had closed it last so he didn’t even had to get his hand on the door knob. He pushed the door further up, being extremely cautious and cringing at every little squeaky sound that might have come from the hinges of the door. His head was the first thing inside, looking around and only when he concluded that the place was abandoned, did he straighten himself up and simply walked inside with rather confident steps. There was a very distinct smell of both fresh plants and dried herbs hanging in the air, almost neutralizing the smell of smoking embers from the fireplace burning the last bit of some sweet wood. His fingers twisted kleptomaniacally, as he stepped more into the house, his dark eyes jumping from nook to corner and eventually walking straight to an interesting looking shelve. He reached out but just before grabbing one of the many small jars, he glanced back to the door. Whoever lived there could get back any moment and it would probably be best for him to be out of there before then. But he didn’t sense any movement and turned his focus back to the shelve. Hastily grabbing jar after jar and popping the lids to smell or in some way try and identify them. At first it was in hope of finding some voodoo hoodoo stuff that could get him back to where he was supposed to be but after a handful of jars he started getting a jittery feeling in his body. A need. A need for something to relief that jittering feeling before it’d become even more uncomfortable. There had to be something. His movement became more and more desperate and less careful and while he didn’t knock anything over, he did mess up whatever system there was on the shelves and he was no longer quiet about it. Or attentive about his surroundings.

She had rushed out just before sunset to fetch a few leeks from the intricate allotment behind the house. The little witch had ran on her bare feet; the rusty red cotton skirt fluttering around her legs, with a woven basket tugged on her arm and a little brown tawny owl following suit a few seconds later. She was so used to her tranquil solitude in her little corner of the world, and leaving her front door open had never been an issue. She hadn't even started cooking yet and had just gotten out of a long bath. It had been a long day in the gardens; spring was always busy. Nature was slowly awakening from the wintery slumber, fresh shoots and bulbs popping up around the forest, creating a sweet, somewhat nostalgic scent of hope and new life. The vegetable garden was still a little barren, with soft soil and much neater barriers than the rest of the wilderness surrounding the cozy stone house where the nature-with resided.

A harsh gush of cold northern wind reached her crouched over body, making her head perk up. The dark waves bounced with her sudden movement, and she had to tug it behind her ear to keep it under control, in turn leaving a light trace of the soil on the side of her face. Her usually mild features turned into a slight frown. She wasn't alone in having picked up the peculiar howl from the wind; the brown tawny owl near her had opened its eyes and peeped its head out of the tree-trunk he had resided in for no longer than 6 and a half minute. The curly haired witch regarded her familiar with a somewhat theatrically pained expression, pushing er bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. "Someone stepped on the verbena," she whispered fearfully. "But I just planted them, Horace!" And as if the wind had listened to her, it whooshed another howl at her, mourning the loss of the newly planted weed. She knew she most possibly wouldn't be able to save the poor plant; it was too close to the new moon and her magical powers were already weakened drastically. The new moon was a time she used to cleanse her body and mind, taking long baths in salts and herbs, letting her body purify before a new moon-cycle would start. It was for cooking good food, write long journal notes and read good books. This was an annoying bump in the middle of her self-care and mindfull moments. Who dared step on her newly planted verbena!?
Horace shook his feathers, huffing in annoyance. The witch narrowed her eyes at the scruffy owl. "Go on then, Asthore," she yapped, sounding a tad too sarcastic with the Gaelic term of affection. Horace narrowed his eyes right back at her, clearly not accepting such flattery, and spread his wings as he lazily pushed himself out of the warm nest, muttering another huff. Fern rolled her eyes at him, letting him take off before finally pushing herself up from the soft soily ground she was sat on.
The large vegetable garden was speckled with the loveliest hues, mixing the colourful winter kales with commencing flowers. She clapped her hands a few times and brushed the dirt off her knees. In a swift movement she grabbed hold of the beautiful woven basket she had carefully put on the ground next to her; now filled with a few leeks and a nest of rainbow chard. Her dark eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance, as her keen, green eyes scanned the well known area around her hut.

It was a short walk, even for Fern's short legs, to the kitchen entrance, where she was met by Horace, regarding her with a near-disgusted scowl. He yapped.
"You don't know that," she whispered sharply, shaking her head at the pessimistic owl. "Maybe he just needs help." The owl didn't seem convinced at all. Horace huffed and shook his feathers, flicking his wings backwards, looking rather offended that she could even think he'd be overreacting. She snorted; loudly enough for anyone in the near vicinity to hear. "He what?!" She exclaimed, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth to lower her voice. She slowly pushed her two middle fingers out to create a little gap over her mouth and giggled a little more discretely. "You smell too sometimes," she reminded him in a whisper, indicating that that would be the last of the nonsensical yapping about the guest. That was before she entered the kitchen of course.

It was a mess.
Nothing was broken; at least that was something, but nothing was in order. Also, Horace had for once not been overreacting. Whoever this was, the person really did smell. He seemed to pick up speed rapidly, feverishly grabbing any jar he could get his hands on, sniffing her herbs or holding them out to inspect colours or names. Her cursive handwriting was on every jar, naming every herb. Fern felt her eye twitch. Why was he messing up her order? It would take at least a couple of hours to undo the mess he was creating.
The scruffy bundle of black hair and milion-layers-of-black clothing, grabbed onto yet another jar, and Fern took the opportunity to clear her throat loudly.
"Mh, yes! This is perfect for you," she said loudly to catch the boys attention. "Dried eucalyptus. Simple but effective against unpleasant - uh - odours." Even though her voice had tried to project hospitable warmth and softness, it bore an edge of panic and stress over the mess this guy was causing. Actually it was rather rude; he could have after all just asked for her help and she would have most probably given it to him. Although her voice had a bit of an edge, her face was soft and only radiated curiosity. Usually people would find their way to her home with wounds, yet this guy seemed unwounded and rather determined. The polar opposite of her gentle featured face came in form of a brown owl, that gracefully landed on her shoulder. The owl looked grumpy. There was no other word to describe him. Grumpy and perhaps plain annoyed.

Funny thing was; Malachai didn’t even realize that he wasn’t actually checking the different jars. Not properly. He looked and he smelled, but after the first five or so after the desperation had kicked in, he barely took note of anything. To his defense, he was anything but educated in herbs or natural mixtures. Whatever he usually could get his hands on to inject himself with couldn’t be any further from that. Natural. At that point his scrambling might just have been a triggered tic of sorts.
He had just about pulled the cork out of the freshest jar in his dirty hands, when she spoke and like an awfully sharp needled popped the bubble he somehow had built up around himself without knowing - or wanted, for that matter. He immediately jumped, clearly taken completely off guard as he instantly dropped the jar. However, his other hand still held around the big piece of cork like his life depended on it. For a millisecond he had been about to turn his head to look at her when he noticed, not only the falling jar but also so possible chaos it would cause if it hit the ground and shattered, so before getting a chance to take in the details of the female figure he suddenly bent down and reached for the jar. “Ouph! La vache..!” Successfully getting a cupped hand in under the bottom of it in mid-air and with some unintended force slammed the cork into it to close it up in the same process. Only then did he remember to breath and let out an audible sound of relief. The sound being more like a huff than a sigh.

He had victoriously avoided breaking her precious possession but the content of it was all over the place. All over his hands and all over the floor surrounding him. And from the amount scattered, one could easily guess that the jar now only held around half of what it did before. On the bright side; now the strong minty scent of the dried eucalyptus leaves stood out in the hut, slightly overpowering all the other herbs as well as his smoky notes.

He finally looked up from his hands, which were still holding the jar tightly between them as if he was trapping a little frog or a bug from escaping, and turned his head so his eyes instead could fall upon the woman, finally confirming that she was in fact a woman. A young one at that. With a meek button nose that had her remind him of a mouse at his first glance. A big smile, the kind where one of the corners pulled higher without completely turning into a smirk, then broke through on his face in an attempt to distract and hide that he probably shouldn’t be there. Or that he nearly had made a bigger mess than he already had. “Coucou, petite fille,” he greeted her, really putting the charms on thick for her. “What? This?” He quickly looked to the jar in his hand, shaking of the dried herb off, and then back at her. Still with the smile front and center. “Perfect for me, you say? Perfect. I was looking for this.. eucaly..“
His attention slowly glided away from the mousy female to her shoulder instead. He hadn’t noticed the owl until then and he visible jolted, taken back by the intense glare the little creature was giving him. Mon Dieu! Quickly he tried recovering from his embarrassing reaction by fully pretending that he hadn’t happen or that the damn owl wasn’t there and his eyes were right back at the girl, holding up the jar in a gesture. “Eucalyptus, oui. Say…” Although he had just played upon - however badly - on having been looking for just that, he still ended up placing the jar back on the shelve where he was positive he had taken it - not even placing it on the correct level. “Do you, by any chance, know where we are?” Pff. He wasn’t lost. He just wanted to know if she knew.

The hospitable smile stiffened on her plumb lips. The jar seemed to fall in slowmotion. The little wild-haired witch parted her lips in surprise and hastily took a step forwards even though she knew very well, that the jar would reach the old stone-floor before she would ever be able to reach it herself. Instead the stiffened in anticipation of the explosion of glass. An explosion that never happened. Somehow the scruffy, young guy managed to get his hand under the falling jar, making her open her mouth in surprise, starring at him as the herbs fell around him like confetti. The beautifully woven basket was still firmly placed on her hip, hanging onto her right arm.
La vache.
Fern adapted a skeptic, narrow-eyed expression, regarding her guest a little less enthusiastically. Admittedly, her French wasn't the best, and she had only ever really cared to learn the names of plants and animals; which was exactly how she knew what that word meant. Had he just called her a cow?  
She didn't move, simply starring at the scene in front of her in mild disbelief. Even Horace didn't move a muscle, still sitting on her shoulder, probably every bit in shock as she was. All the enthusiasm she had felt of having guests had vanished in thin air. This was absolutely not how it usually was, when people appeared at her house. Maybe he was here to steal her magic plants? The thought had absolute horror surging through her body. She straightened her back as he finally looked up. His entire face lit up in a suspiciously large smile; a smile she didn't return this time around. She pushed her hip out to the side, taking a little of the weight off her arm and the woven basket with her vegetables, making her look a little like a disappointed mother. Horace narrowed his eyes once again, peeking his head out a little to look at Fern with a knowledgable little yap, clearly telling her 'what did I tell you?'.
With every stumble for words that came out of the guys mouth, Fern felt more and more itchy. Even the eucalyptus couldn't hide the fact that he smelled like smoke. She hated smoke. It made her nauseous. So did his muttering non-sensical sentences. Her hands felt clammy. Was he really there to steal from her?

Do you, by any chance, know where we are?
Fern smiled ever so innocently. "Funny that," she replied, her voice gaining more edge, the innocent smile stiffening up a little as she spoke. "I should have thought you'd know exactly where we are considering how comfortably you're roaming around in here."
She flashed another very clearly sarcastic smile at the now most-unwanted guest. "I don't like liers," she stated bluntly. "Neither does Horace. So you better stop that right now or leave my house."

Her initial smile had the fairy think that he had swiftly avoided any kind of trouble he’d be in, having been caught to clearly red-handed as he had been. But sadly, that sense of relief didn’t really get a chance to probably settle in him as her voice carried some obvious spikes with it. And her face changes too. All Malachai could do in that moment was witness it unfold while his own pride and comfortable feeling simultaneously faded away. In the end he might as well have been a little boy again, knowing full-well that he had done something that he shouldn’t have. Even though he was a good head taller than the witch in front of her, she managed to make him feel small. Gears were grinding in his head to find a way out of the pediment as fast and as smoothly as possible.
Immediately as she mentioned a name - Horace - his eyes shot to the miniature owl on her shoulder, assuming that must be who she was referring too and he attempted to smile at it before very quickly looking back on the young woman where the smile became much, much easier to muster op. “Whaaaat? Me, a liar? I’m no liar, petite fille, that I can assure you. I should know!” he straight up lied to her face, overdramatizing his already energetic behavior and even pulled a face to really drive in the preposterous prejudice she had just revealed to have about him. A prejudice that was very much true. Maybe it was exactly because he could point out other people lying that he had become to accustomed to do it himself with such ease. He only really felt remorse for his lies when he got caught in them. Telling them never seemed difficult for him. And like she had guessed, he had just been lying to her. But only about the minty, licorice-esque herb; he most certainly hadn’t been looking for that. Unless, of course, he turned out to have some kind of pain-relieving properties.
“You see, the thing is,” he started, automatically ending up holding his hands up in front of him as a way to show himself surrendering to her, that he wasn’t there for trouble and that he’d very much like to not be a target for her growing wrath. Or - he glances shortly to the bird - her owl-friend. “I’m not from around here, I literally just stumbled upon your little cottage house here - which, I’ll have to add, is a very cozy place you’ve got you. Very…” He hadn’t actually taken a proper look around and was to a certain degree just shitting things out of his ass, so in that moment he dared take his dark eyes away from her to look first to one side and then the other to see if he could get a believable impression of the place before he returned to her with the same old charming smile. “…rustic.” That was the first word that came to mind. Yea. Rustic.

As the one of his hands sank, the other one moved up to instinctively rub his neck. It was pretty toasty in the cabin, didn’t it? “But you’re probably right; If I had known a pretty one as yourself lived here, I’d have ventured in anyway, but truth is, I really don’t know where I am. Other than, that I’m in a house. Cabin. Cottage?” He wasn’t sure and therefor give her a few options to choose from just so he had a higher chance of guessing correctly. “Now, if you can direct me in the direction of Bull Court Street I can be out of your hair.”
She was speaking English, but her accent was not quite like the inbreed Gaians, there was something distinctively different about it so a part of him was nervous that he wasn’t even in Gaia anymore and that she didn’t know where Bull Court Street was. Or that it was in Aston since it was mainly in that directly he needed to go, but at the same time, he would very well already be in Aston just a sort of nature park of it! He had no fucking idea!..

His high pitched, very theatrical voice pushed out the French accent even more than it had been in the beginning, which, although annoyingly adorable, did very little for his trustworthiness. She pursed her lips, not moving a muscle until he started talking about her house. A house she had spent a good hundred years making just how she liked it. Letting the elements do their job to feel at home in. As he hesitated to find a descriptive word, she raised her eyebrow at him. Rustic. She let the eyebrow fall down. "Thank you," she replied stiffly. She didn't really believe his flattery was sincere, but it did make her lower her shoulders a little. His quick and melodious way of talking was much unlike the people she usually conversed with, and she really had to focus to understand him. So flighty.

Now, if you can direct me in the direction of Bull Court Street I can be out of your hair.
Fern lowered her eyes, looking skeptically down at Horace, who in turn looked up locking his eyes with hers, every bit as dubious. She had not heard that expression before but was too proud to ask what he had meant. Instead she focused on the words she had understood.
"Do you know a Bull Court Street?" She whispered at the owl. Horace shook his feathers as a reply in a very believable 'no'. "No, I didn't think so." Fern turned around slightly, to gain a little privacy with her familiar, keeping her voice low as she did so. "He seems a little obsessed with cattle, don't you think?" At this notion Horace scoffed - he himself was very much not excited about any sort of cattle what-so-ever after an incident some fifty years ago with an angry bull. Fern could only hum in agreement.

She straightened her back and swiftly turned back around, making her rusty-red skirt flutter around her knees. It was in her very best interest for this rather unusual young man to leave her to her dinner, but she also knew she couldn't just let him waltz out the door. There were too many precious plants around, and he would be free to take them and run off - a scenario she much wanted to avoid. "We do not know any Bull Court Street, I'm afraid," she said calmly with a diplomatically gentle smile. "You've got at least a few hours to the nearest village," she added, as her smile faded by the thought. Surely she wouldn't have to follow this guy to the nearest village. Maybe just to the border of the shield that protected her property, and then he could find his way back.
Fern sucked her cheeks in, biting down lightly while she thought. With an exasperated sigh, she grabbed onto her woven basket to place it on the kitchen counter a few steps away from where she stood. Horace pushed himself off her shoulder and landed on the woven basket handle, not for a second taking his eyes of the guy. "Where did you say you came from?" She asked innocently, well aware that he hadn't told her. She gently pressed down on her skirt, pushing away any folds she had made with the basket, before turning back to face the ... sooted, scruffy young man.

With only very little shame left, Kai honestly couldn’t help but lean discreetly closer to the woman as she continued to mostly ignore him to favour a conversation with her shoulder pet instead of him. He wasn’t that bad to talk with, now was he? Her voice was very low, which had him also direct on ear better in her direction to capture what silent words she was exchanging with the owl, for of course, he was more than curious.
But as soon as he heard what she was mumbling about, the brows that had been pushed up towards his hair line instantly furrowed and his face retracted slightly in what one might descript as offence. Obsessed with cattle?! Wait what? What was she talking about? He could think of no reason why she would’ve gotten that impression of him and his first instinct was to fleetingly look down over himself and maybe take a secret whiff of himself. Smoke. He smelled of smoke. Not cow. And not one piece of his randomly selected clothing carried any obvious cow related stuff.

He had been just about to open his big mouth to defend his case against her allegations when she suddenly - suddenly for him at least since he hadn’t paid much attention - turned back around and he quickly did as she and straightened up and pulled away, as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping. And the frown was gone like dew from the morning sun as well, replaced with the same old theoretical expression of ‘huh, I didn’t do anything’. “Ah, just my luck, it seem,” he commented, really trying to press some false disappointment into the words but it deemed difficult. It wasn’t that he absolutely had to get back right away, it was probably fine. He turned his eyes back to the door as if expecting to get a view of the village while contemplating pressing his lips together and gently rocking his chin up and down. “Only a few hours you say?” He probably didn’t hide it well, how he wasn’t looking forward to such a hike but at least he wasn’t a defeated man. Albeit he tucked at it as If hoping for, he didn’t really know, pity perhaps?
And like a wishing fairy granting him that wish. She moved away from him, and his eyes followed her movements - both calm and stiff, her skirt being the only actual soft flutter and he barely noticed how his eyes automatically had fall down to it as it shuffled around her behind. Only when she spoke, did his eyes spring back to her face and the pitiful sense to him disappeared in another one of his big smiles. “I didn’t,” he brashly pointed out as he dared take the first step towards her, already making him more or less at home as he was convinced she wasn’t just going to kick him out and onto an adventure to the nearest civilization. “But I came from just up the hill behind those bushes of sort in the garden outside.” He didn’t mention his little accidental trample of her precious plant. No need to bring that up. He ran a hand through the unruly - and most definitely dirty hair of his, throwing the long curly locks to the other side of his head and forcing a new side-part. “Before that I was on Bull Court Street - in Aston - running after some salaud. Turns out he can teleport not just himself but others as well. Unless, of course, I just don’t remember being dragged somewhere else.” As he spoke more and more gears in his head started to turn. Because there was indeed the possibility that he hadn’t been teleported but drugged somehow. He had known jack shit about this bastard before getting ordered to hunt him down. For all he knew, they could’ve been a walking toxic spore machine.

While Kai was scared of walking closer to her, he did still stop up only after a couple of steps since he so easily could feel the owls glaring stare and he almost didn’t dare cross the bird. Especially not if he was to be on good foot with the witch. Witch. Energy suddenly sprung forward in his face, more than there already was. And attention fell right back at her. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? You could maybe work your magic and get me back to Aston in l’ instant!” It was a perfect idea! - he thought. Just a bit of magic dust and some magical words and whoopty he’d be where he needed to be. No sore feet necessary.

The boy looked somewhere behind her, making Fern turn her head to follow his gaze at the door that was still open, showing the fading sun behind them. Her eyebrows furrowed lightly and she had to remind herself to soften them up before turning back to face him; undoubtedly still a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows as she regarded him. She didn't want to pity him, but truthfully a two hour walk through the rocky mountain-forest in darkness did not sound like anything he would particularly enjoy. He didn't know the forest after all and if it took her two hours to reach the village it would take him even longer. And then from there to where-ever he needed to be.
Fern looked up at him, by the sound of his voice, with an innocent little hum as she tried to register what he had said to her. A little surprised at his step towards her, she slid a step backwards, grabbing back to steady herself on the kitchen counter on her side, so that she wouldn't stumble. Horace hopped down from the handle of the basket and shuffled sideways to keep himself somewhere between them.
His whole story sounded frantic and very unbelievable, but there wasn't really anything to suggest that he was joking. She couldn't help but lock onto his hair as he ran a hand through it.
"Aston is - uh - very far away from here," she announced hesitantly. Even though the lights in her little cottage were dim and cozy, they caught onto the grease he carried in his dark locks. She felt like whimpering at the sight of all of the dirt he had carried with him; before anything, what he most definitely and desperately needed was a bath. And a good kilo of soap. "It might take you a few days to get back there," she added. Her voice had softened up a little and lowered in volume, well aware that that might not be the kind of news he had been hoping f-

- You could maybe work your magic and get me back to Aston in l’ instant!
Horace let out an angry hoot at the insulting thought. Fern shuffled uncomfortably by the idea. It was the last night before the new-moon and she needed to savour the little magic she had left to strengthen her defences before retracting to a whole 24 hours without any magic at all. Teleporting someone to a city hours away was no easy task at all and frankly she wasn't well versed in teleportation spells at all. Such a spell could take hours! She felt slightly offended that he would even ask her to use any of her precious powers on him, as if it would be as easy as snapping her fingers; had this guy no idea about magic at all?!
She pushed out her bottom lip, showing the obvious offence on her face. She genuinely had no idea what he was. He didn't feel like any other species she had met before.
She huffed; something between an offended snicker and a exhausted groan. "Not how it works," she stated dryly. Was she going to point out that it neared the new moon? Or would that simply be shouting to the sky that she would be absolutely hopelessly vulnerable the next while? Best not, no. "I don't do teleportation spells," she explained; and although that wasn't entirely true - she had done such spells in the past - she couldn't do one now.
"Might be safer to stay the night and then start your walk tom-"
As soon as the beginning suggestion had left her mouth, her lips parted in a surprised 'o' and she stopped herself from talking. "Tomorrow," she added, quickly finishing the sentence to not seem utterly rude. Horace hooted again, raising his wings and flapping them angrily at her. "Don't be rude, Horace," she yapped back at the stubborn owl. "If you want to cross the mountains in the middle of the night be my guest. We can't all have perfect night-vision, mh?" 

It was probably anything but nice of him to think it, but the way she got startled by him being only slightly closer to her was pretty cute. But cute in the way where it also kind of offended him. She clearly didn’t like having him anywhere near her but he had been somewhat polite to not stand all up in her face. He’d be an even bigger liar than he already was, if he stated that he wasn’t a little scared of having her smack him if he did something like that. Again, his eyes were on the owl instantly and whatever playful smile that might have been creeping in the corners of his mouth got swallowed just as fast. That was an even bigger reason not to get too close to the witch. He quite liked his eyes, at least he liked to see - he hadn’t been impressed with his own eyes ever since they had dulled. But he liked to see, yes! And that bird, however small it was, had some dangerous looking talons and beak. “A few.. what? Days? Yuck!..” It was a disgustingly long way. It could be worse, though. He could’ve ended in a country on the other side of the world. Or worst; back in France.
But if she knew that is was ‘uh- very far away from there’ then surely she’d understand  - and be kind enough to accept - his request.. Right? Obviously not. The bird, which he had been constantly on guard with, suddenly hooted at him and he nearly jumped a whole step back, shoulders tensed up and there was no way for him to actually hide just how startled he was. It was written with big letters in colourful crayons in his dirty face, which was as expressive as ever. “Merde! Maudit oiseau..” he silently exhaled. Alright. So the owl wasn’t too happy about what he had asked of its beloved witch. That would’ve been enough for Kai to back off, honestly. Not wanting to mess with a bird. But just as he finally dared taking his eyes off the bird to look at the young woman instead, he was met with yet another rather offended reaction. Had it really been that bad for him to ask?

At least she wasn’t kicking him on his way, it then got revealed. He barely let her finish her sentence or the one-sided argument she had with her familiar - well, he only caught on to one side of the conversation - before he broke through. “Much safer, yes! I’ll probably stumble and fall and hit my head on a stone and you’ll find me dead in the stream. And I doubt you’d want me rotting up the soil here in your area.” To him this was all simple fun and giggles. Dark humour, indeed, but surely she wasn’t as sensitive to not also see the comedy in it. Especially not when he was smiling again. Behind the words, though, there was a convinced man that he wouldn’t even do much good even if he died. His body would probably pollute the earth like any Faded earth or nature fairy. The odds were actually pretty low, since there was nothing pointing to that. He was a fire fairy! All he was now was smoke. Useless and choking smoke. “Then you can tell by how magic works, eh? I’ll be all ears,” he added as well as playfully bouncing his brows a singular time. It didn’t hurt to give her some more good reasons to let him stay. Just in case she started to regret the first ones. Always good with some backups, as he was sure his father would say.

“However -..” He cleared his throat and decided to bury his hands in the deep pockets of his dark jacket before lightly tilting his head towards the owl on the table. “Are you sure your bird friend won’t peck me in my sleep?” he asked while desperately hiding his actual concern behind some more humour. “Also, speaking of! I know its name but I didn’t catch yours.”
He did something along the same lines as she had done before, asking him to repeat something he hadn’t said before. In this case, her name, knowing full well she hadn’t even been close to introducing herself to him. Although, he did it much more plainly than she. Undoubtedly copying her for the fun of it.