Nova: [tense, but continues chewing the taffy-like ambrosia as she watches Spéir and Scamall through her aura]

Siblings: [looking at each other, faces twisted and fae-ears lowered stressfully—]

Scamall: [guilty, but…]

Spéir: [furious]

Spéir: (hisses under his breath) "Scamall! This is exactly why I—"

Scamall: [letting out a slow breath, shakes her head and gently pushes him to the side with just a wave of her essence and air. Moves to stop beside Nova and try to meet their eyes]

Nova: [hesitantly obliges her, chomping off a piece of their third ambrosia square]

Scamall: (voice gentle, but serious) "you have a plan? Do you need more ambrosia?"

Nova:

Spéir:

Nova: [shocked she'd offer to help when doing so got her into this mess to begin with, but…]

Nova: [ears low, forces themself to just look away, nod curtly, and swallow their bite. Then, with their face turned away, rips off another chunk of ambrosia to chew]

Scamall: [smoothly sits down next to Nova and reaches with her essence to copy their earlier theft—]

Spéir: [grabs her shoulder, hissing) "Scamall, what are you doing!? You're going to—"

Scamall: [turning a sharp glare onto him in return, evenly) "they escaped from another archfaerie. They know what they're doing, too. We should help them."

Spéir: [stunned silent—]

Nova: 'too'...

Nova: [also stunned, but struggling not to be hopeful. Instead, forces herself to focus on her still-formulating escape plan. At the same time, starts on her fourth and last piece of ambrosia]

[Ambrosia, as a treat made of pure magic, contained immense amounts of energy for needy fae. It was most often made by archfaeries, who learned to break apart the raw magic permeating Talamhdé. By stabilizing it—and taking all that matched their domain—they could then shove it at their thralls for easy-to-serve rations.]

[Without ambrosia, it would be much harder for archfae to feed their thralls. Typical food did little to nothing for faeries, and was more often than not just consumed for taste. Instead, they needed to consume things that matched their 'domains'.]

[Each faerie had a certain 'domain' that depended on what they emerged from.]

[For example: Scamall. She'd been clearly air-aligned, but she did little to nothing to hide the fact that her full domain was 'clouds'. Beyond it literally being her name, her stormy hair, softer personality, and semi-translucent, spotted-like-clouds-in-the-sky skin made it far too obvious she was a gentler storm faerie.]

[On the other hand, Spéir's was much harder to distinguish. Aligning with his name—as most younger faeries did—his speckled-with-stars, night-sky skin matched the night sky outside. But, whereas that was true, his essence itself felt very different from 'the sky'. Nova would need more time to figure out what exactly his domain was.]

[Then, most relevantly, there was Byrne. His appearance—between the crumbling earthen skin, burning hair, and roots keeping his body together—made it clear he had something between an earth, nature, and fire alignment, but his exact domain was harder to distinguish.]

[Still, Nova had always been especially skilled at figuring out faeries' domains just by the feeling of their aura—their concentration of essence, or magic energy—alone. On top of that, Nova's arcane eye was sharp enough that she was able to track precise locations even with massive auras.]

[And that's why she knew Byrne, the faerie of burnt-down forests, had finally reached Kilrey.]

Nova: [taking a near-gasping breath, quickly hops out of her chair. Wipes the back of her hand—and her essence—against her mouth to absorb any last bits of ambrosia as she looks toward the siblings]

Spéir: [has his jaw clenched and arms crossed tight as he's turned away from them, glaring at the other inhabitants of the tavern… to help discourage them from staring, or catching Scamall's theft]

Scamall: [of course, still stealing ambrosia squares. Shifting her airy clothes—made of her magic—to form pockets hidden beneath their ruffles and then stuff the ambrosia inside]

Both: [as Nova hopped out of the chair, stop what they're doing to look at Nova with tense expressions]

Nova: [meets Spéir's eyes, then Scamall's, and quickly turns to march toward the door]

Nova: (voice commanding, sounding far more confident than she felt) "if you want to 'help' me, we head out now. I can collect more essence on the way. Hurry!"

Air Siblings: [meet eyes once again behind her back]

Scamall: [immediately follows close behind Nova!]

Spéir: [half-groans, half-growls, but quickly trails after]

Spéir: [… though his eyes dart from faerie to faerie as he wonders why nobody's reacting to their departure]

Nova: [almost as though she's reading his mind but more reading between the lines, and figuring it's better to say anyway) "I blocked them from seeing us. Come on!"

Spéir: [bites his tongue, unsure of a lot of things… but certain it was a bad time to ask questions]

Nova: [pushes the door open and speedwalks outside, ignoring the frostbite-cold of the now-winter that hits her]

[The seasons, time of day, and weather in general could change constantly within Talamhdé—what humans called 'the Faewildes'. It was all but nonsensical, but often followed themes, the mood of whomever controlled the area they were in, or the strength of raw, unclaimed magic permeating the plane]

[Talamhdé's raw magic was incredibly dangerous even to faeries, its native residents. It was able to take over their minds, make them lose their sense of selves, and turn them into abominations the humans called 'demons'. Creatures with seemingly no consciousness, hellbent on committing atrocious acts of violence.]

[Nova couldn't blame them.]

[She had an anger deep within. A rage she fought down almost every day, that made her cry in the dead of night. A rage that dared to consume her entire being. It wanted to rain retribution upon the heads of all the unworthy—upon those who purposely harmed others, those who used and abused those weaker than themselves, and who ate and ate and consumed until there was nothing remaining.]

[Archfaeries. Who laughed and jeered at others' so-called 'inferiority'. Who flexed their power like gods, then claimed to be superior to God, the namesake of Talamhdé.]

[The god of Magic Itself.]

[They took and took and took, then declared themselves above all else. Claimed they earned their power, that they'd been granted it by God, or that they'd deserved it. That all those beneath them belonged there.]

[More than anything else, Nova wished she could make them suffer.]

[Instead, she was a coward who ran away from her problems.]

[Pathetic.]

Nova: [fae-ears low and eyes scanning the streets around them, paces forward to lead the group through the quickest way out of town]

Spéir: [from behind, voice tense) "what's your plan, fae. Who are you?"

Nova: [tenses, but… keeps pacing, keeping an eye on the area]

[The buildings kept fluctuating, both in shape and material. First they were of wood, then stone, then ice—and it didn't stop there. The same applied to their architecture: they started as traditionally-built houses, but quickly distorted into irregular shapes that should've collapsed in on themselves.]

[… and sometimes did, with massive crashes and panicked faeries stumbling out of their wrecked homes. Still, there was little to worry about.]

[Kilrey would be able to repair it all in no time.]

[Well, he would when the magic storm passed, at least. Until then, there'd be no point in even trying—the storm would continue to ravage the town, erasing his efforts, until it was gone.]

Nova: (voice starts anxious and uneven, but quickly levels to tense and hard as they switch topics) "I'm—... we leave Kil—the Archfae's dominion, so he's weaker. From there, he either gives up, or—"

Spéir: [didn't miss their avoiding answering who they were, but—]

Spéir: (sharply interrupts) "he'll catch up before we can!"

Nova: [twists her form, turning her torso so—while her legs continue forward on her decided path—she's able to face Spéir while walking]

Siblings: [faces visibly twist in disgust at her grotesque display]

Nova: (harshly) "we have a head start and this—" [points up, then twists his finger in a circular gesture, alluding to the magic storm] "—is going to keep him from teleporting to us."

Spéir:

Spéir: [visibly stunned… though also looks paler]

Spéir: [actually, has changed a lot in appearance. His night-sky skin has quickly turned pale white, matching his hair and the snow around them]

Spéir: [now, almost completely blends with the environment as he scans the area, the tips of his fae-ears dropping lower and lower]

Nova: (to himself) ah… that's why he feels a bit different from 'sky'.

Spéir: [returning his eyes to Nova, hesitantly) "is… that you?"

Nova: [breath catches, heart skipping a beat—]

Nova: [barks out a laugh and turns his torso back into place to increase his pace as he tries to hide his panic. Still, he's betrayed by his angled ears, poorly-faked laugh, and the breathlessness of his otherwise-incredulous voice) "no??? You think I'd be like this if I had that kinda power? I just sensed it coming, and we're taking advantage of it. Now hurry up, Kil—he, the Archfae, just left!"

Scamall: [from behind her; voice gentle, but subtly tense) "so… what happens when he catches up to us?"

Nova: [drops his eyes to the ground, falling silent as a cold hand of dread wraps itself tight around his heart]

Nova: (voice thick) "as long as we're outside of his dominion, I can take care of him by myself."