Fie

It's all false love and affection

You don't like me you just want the attention

I'm not your toy

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Information

WARNING: This information should be considered OOC Knowledge unless one has the IC means to access it.

"Stolen away as a child, running on an errand for my mother." The girl's reply is quick and soft, her smile bittersweet as she adds, "Very fairytale, but I have no red cloak."

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Fae in need of a disposable messenger can steal one from the world, taking it back to the Lands. I ran a message for my mother, darting through the streets at eventime when the shadows lengthen and all know you should be home before dark. I tarried, distracted by an item in a window - it is so long ago I would barely recall the object were I not wearing it - and the shadows came, the darkness fell and he was there.

A promise, a careless promise to a stranger and I had the silver necklace, and to serve him until my mother's time past. I meant the time allowed for that errand but there, one should watch the words, for they are tricky. He took me off to his Lands, necklace and all. There I learnt swiftness, how a secret can be used without giving it up, how a story unwinds with a lash in its tail for someone, and how I preferred not to be the lashed one. And so his secrets were stored, and a girl makes a nice little place for a keepsake. I ran his messages and his errands for over sixty years now, gaining not a wrinkle nor a grey hair in all that time, remaining young.

Then he traded me, and there was another, and then there was freedom and the world once more…

Description

Red hair that brushes past her shoulders, pale skin and wide blue eyes are the primary features of this woman, her delicate bone structure matching her petite form. Her clothes, a peach sweater worn over jeans and a white t-shirt, seem new, her boots black and leather. The only ornament that brings a glitter of brightness to her is the silver necklace around her throat, a simple chain from which dangles a silver spiral, one end completing in a tiny triangle. Another necklace - wooden beads strung lightly on a thong of leather - lies beneath it.

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