Something Grows Amongst the Trees (Closed for Mr_Positive)

Poprockz

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Name: Illuvian (Illy for short)
Age: 312
Appearance: She is young for a forest nymph, most of whom live thousands of years. She stands at five foot four inches, and has some curves on her pale frame. Her chestnut brown hair is wild and she has thoughtful, dark green eyes. There are little freckles under her eyes and in various spots like her arms and forehead she has markings that look like raised tattoos of leaves and vines. A crown of leaves adorns her head and she is typically seen in a green and brown dress with bare feet.

Personality: Shy and curious with a mischievous side. She generally makes it a point to stay hidden when she comes across humans, but occasionally a child will tell stories about how they were lost in the woods and a pretty lady helped them back onto the path. She fears them, having seen numerous traumatic things that humans have done over the years. Thunderstorms scare her, as with storms come lightning, which cause forest fires at times. Fire also scares her, of course. Illy enjoys walking amongst the trees and playing with animals, as well as dancing when the fae come together for the full moon.

Backstory: she has lived in her own forest for her entire life, never having ventured into a human settlement. One would think she lives a solitary life without other forest nymphs, but she doesn’t feel lonely as all the creatures and plants keep her company and speak to her.

Quirks and Hobbies:
- Is drawn to shiny things like a bird might be.
- Hums to herself when she thinks she’s alone.
- Her favorite food is honey which she asks the bees to spare for her on occasion.

Goal: Be caretaker of the forest


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There were very few times that the forest was ever silent. At any given point, one could hear the sounds of insects, animals, water, even the wind. Even when it was quiet, there were those who heard so much more. Illuvian (or Illy as some called her) was one of those beings. She was a forest nymph, one who wandered through the trees as though she had no destination. In actuality, her destination was any tree or animal that needed assistance.

She didn’t interfere in the life and death struggle between animals, as that was not her place. However, if a tree was sick or there was trash left behind by ignorant humans, she would make sure to address it. Many hunters had given up laying traps for animals in that forest, as they would find them mysteriously disappeared by the time they returned. Even if they staked out the place, their eyes would inevitably droop and when they opened their traps would be gone. Killing and hunting was natural, but the needless suffering was not.

It was easy to get lost if one wandered from the winding paths, but there had been many a tale of a child becoming lost and finding their way back. They would always mention a beautiful lady taking them by the hand and leading them back to the path. This happened to adults too, but in a slightly different way. Some men and women would claim that they got lost and heard a mysterious humming and they would follow the noise until they would end up on the trail again, bewildered and spooked. Some described it as an unsettling song, while others said that it was soothing or lonely. That was why there were rumors of the first being haunted by the ghost of a woman who had thrown herself down a waterfall.

Regardless of this, many praised the forest for how healthy its ecosystem was and claimed that it was one of the most peaceful places they had ever visited. The air was fresh and crisp, and the aura of the place was welcoming.

Illy hummed to herself as she studied a clump of mushrooms at the base of a tree, finding that they looked very healthy. This brought a smile to her lips and she stood up from her crouched position. A breeze ruffled her wild hair and she turned her head toward the hiking trail while ceasing her soft tune. It seemed that down the way a bit, that man was approaching. She had been seeing him a lot lately, though she had never revealed herself to him. Sometimes he would sit down and draw in his book, looking around before making more pencil strokes. Her curiosity had been piqued by this, but unfortunately she could never get close enough to see the drawings. It would have been ideal if he had left his notebook and pack to do something like relieve himself, but he always kept his belongings with him. He had a shiny gold compass that she would have liked to get a closer look at as well, but that too was beyond her grasp.

She adopted her usual mirage, blending into the forest so as not to be seen. It wasn’t like being invisible- he would definitely see her if she allowed him to get too close to her; however, as long as she stood still or was at a distance, she would be nothing but a breeze in the branches, glimmer of light, or the fluttering of a butterfly. Forest nymphs were part of the fae, and thus she had her own magic to assist her in remaining hidden and such. Among her many talents were animal shifting, mirages, healing, and tree-walking. Tree-walking allowed her to pass through one tree and walk out of another, even if they were on opposite sides of the forest. They were all connected by roots, so it allowed her to be anywhere she needed to be, quickly if necessary.

One might wonder why she didn’t just shift into an animal to approach him and see his drawings, but she had no idea how the man would react to such a thing. In truth, she feared humans. There were many instances in which she had witnessed unspeakable things in the remote reaches of the woods. Humans hunting didn’t necessarily bother her, as in a way it was a more natural interaction between human and forest despite the use of the thunder sticks they called “rifles.” Predators would always seek to hunt for food. That being said… they committed violence amongst themselves and others, violence that went beyond the normal bounds of nature. She had once seen a man throw a sack of kittens into the river, and it was only by the grace of her being present that the little things survived. Even though she had rescued them, they didn’t belong in the forest, these domesticated creatures. Illian had taken them to a mother bobcat and begged for her to take them in. While she had, the kittens still ended up being eaten by other predators regardless of the bobcat’s efforts.

It hurt her heart to think of. It was one thing to watch nature take its course, and another to see such helpless beings being abandoned to a harsh world. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been kinder to let them drown, but she comforted herself by the fact that though the time had been brief, those kittens had felt the warmth and love of a mother


Back to the present, she stood still against a tree as she watched for him to come down the path. It seemed as though he was heading in the direction of the river today. Perhaps he would try to swim and she could finally look at his drawings-book.
 
Name: Ethan Rivers
Age: 34
Appearance: Ethan is 6'1" with a lean, athletic build. His sun-kissed skin and slightly weathered face hint at years spent outdoors. He has dark brown hair that's perpetually messy, piercing green eyes, and a scruffy beard that he trims occasionally. He dresses practically, favouring hiking boots, breathable shirts, and cargo pants.

Personality: Ethan is introspective and thoughtful, often choosing solitude over social gatherings. He's resourceful, observant, and deeply connected to nature. While reserved, he has a warm side that surfaces when he meets someone who shares his passions.

Backstory: Ethan grew up in a small town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, where he developed an early love for the outdoors. His parents ran a local diner, and while they encouraged Ethan to take over the family business, he always felt more at home in the forests and trails around his hometown. After graduating college with a degree in environmental science, Ethan moved to the Pacific Northwest to work for a conservation nonprofit. For several years, he thrived in his role, conducting field studies and promoting sustainability. However, during this time, Ethan's life took an unexpected turn. Ethan's long-term partner, Mia, shared his passion for hiking. They planned countless adventures together, dreaming of traversing the Appalachian Trail. Tragically, during a weekend hike, Mia slipped and fell, sustaining injuries that eventually claimed her life. Overcome with grief and guilt, Ethan withdrew from friends and family, feeling responsible for her loss. Struggling to move forward, Ethan left his job and returned to the East Coast. He bought a small cabin near a remote mountain range, seeking solace in the solitude of the wilderness. Over time, hiking became both his escape and his therapy. Alone on the trails, Ethan finds clarity and a sense of connection to something larger than himself. He spends weeks at a time hiking, camping, and documenting his journeys through photographs and journal entries. Though Ethan prefers solitude, he occasionally crosses paths with fellow hikers, offering them advice or even guiding them on tough trails. These rare encounters remind him of the importance of human connection. While he still wrestles with his grief, Ethan is slowly learning to let go of the past and rediscover his purpose. Recently, he's considered sharing his experiences through writing or photography, hoping to inspire others to find healing in nature.

Quirks & Hobbies: Carries a small sketchbook where he draws plants, animals, and landscapes. Has an old compass passed down from his grandfather that he refuses to hike without. Talks to himself while hiking, often working through his thoughts aloud. Current Goal: Ethan is training for a solo trek of the Pacific Crest Trail, a journey he once dreamed of completing with Mia. For him, it’s both a tribute to her memory and a step toward fully embracing life again.
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Ethan moved steadily down the forest trail, the rhythmic crunch of his boots against the packed dirt grounding him in the moment. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, a scent he had come to associate with clarity and comfort. His compass dangled from a cord around his neck, swinging slightly with each step. Though he had memorized the area’s trails, the compass was a ritualistic necessity—like carrying a piece of his past into every new journey.

He adjusted the straps of his pack, glancing at the trees around him. Their canopies stretched high above, filtering sunlight into golden streaks that danced across the ground. "Looks like a good day for the river," he muttered to himself. Talking aloud was an old habit, one that had developed after years of solitude in the wilderness. The sound of his voice in the silence reassured him, reminded him he wasn’t entirely lost to his own thoughts.

Ethan’s steps slowed as he approached a familiar bend in the trail. This was one of his favourite spots, where the path curved near a grove of towering oaks that seemed older than time itself. Something about this section of the forest always felt... alive. Not in the ordinary way all forests thrived, but as though the woods themselves were watching. He paused to take it in, scanning the landscape. The sunlight seemed to linger here, dappling the mossy ground in intricate patterns.

He knelt, setting his pack down. Pulling out his sketchbook, Ethan flipped to a blank page and began to draw the grove. His pencil moved quickly, rough outlines forming before he refined them into twisting branches and textured bark. The act of drawing helped quiet his mind, channelling his restless thoughts into something tangible. “Not bad,” he murmured, tilting the sketchbook to examine his work. His gaze flicked upward again, studying the way the light caught the edges of the leaves. He glanced to his right, where a clump of mushrooms caught his eye—perfectly shaped, nestled against the base of a tree. Ethan couldn’t resist adding them to the scene, his pencil flying across the page once more.

As he sketched, a faint breeze rustled through the forest, brushing against his skin. It carried a scent he couldn’t quite place, something sweet and earthy. He froze for a moment, the hair on his arms standing on end. It wasn’t uncommon for the forest to feel uncanny, but this sensation was different—like the air itself held its breath. “Probably just me,” Ethan said, shaking his head. He often felt this way out here, especially in this forest. It wasn’t unsettling, exactly—more like being in the presence of something just out of reach, something he couldn’t see but knew was there.

He finished his drawing with a final stroke, then leaned back on his heels. Placing the sketchbook back into his pack, Ethan stood, slinging the straps over his shoulders. He hesitated a moment longer, glancing around the grove. "Thanks for the inspiration," he added softly, almost as if speaking to the trees themselves, before continuing down the path.
The river came into view as Ethan emerged from the dense line of trees, its surface shimmering under the midday sun. The water flowed lazily at this point, its wide expanse broken only by the occasional rock or submerged log. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh water and wildflowers, and the sound of the current blended harmoniously with birdsong.

Ethan stepped closer to the edge, setting his pack down on a flat rock. The river had always drawn him—its ceaseless movement, its depth and mystery. It reminded him of life itself: relentless, sometimes calm, sometimes raging, but always flowing forward. He crouched to test the water with his hand. It was cold, but not unwelcoming. Perfect for cooling off after the hike.

Stripping off his boots, socks, and shirt, he left them in a neat pile near his pack. He waded in slowly, the chilly water sending a shiver up his spine. Once he was waist-deep, Ethan dove forward, slicing cleanly into the deeper part of the river. The water embraced him, cold and invigorating. He swam with steady, practiced strokes, cutting through the current with ease. This was one of the few places he felt truly free, where the weight of his grief seemed to dissolve, at least temporarily. As he surfaced, the sun warmed his face, and he floated on his back, letting the river carry him a short distance downstream.

Ethan wasn’t sure how long he drifted before he decided to push himself further. Rolling onto his stomach, he swam toward a deeper section where the current was stronger. The challenge excited him, the way nature demanded respect yet offered rewards to those willing to meet its terms. But as he reached the middle of the river, a sharp pull caught his leg. Startled, Ethan kicked harder, but the current had changed. The water was faster here than it appeared from the shore, its force tugging him downstream toward a cluster of rocks. He adjusted his strokes, aiming to swim at an angle to escape the pull, but the current seemed to anticipate his movements, pulling him harder. A low panic began to creep in as his breathing quickened.

“Stay calm,” he muttered, spitting water as a wave splashed over his face. His arms and legs burned with effort as he fought against the pull, his earlier confidence waning. He tried to steer himself toward a calmer patch of water near the riverbank, but each stroke felt like swimming against a wall. His chest tightened as exhaustion crept in, the river’s cold sapping his strength. A sharp, submerged rock grazed his thigh, tearing at his skin and sending a jolt of pain through his body. Ethan grimaced, trying to focus, but his movements grew sluggish. The river's roar filled his ears, drowning out his thoughts. His hand stretched toward the shore, fingers grasping at empty air as the current dragged him further away. He was in trouble now, and he knew it.

“Damn it!” he gasped, the words swallowed by the rushing water as he struggled to stay afloat. For the first time in a long while, a cold fear gripped Ethan’s chest.
 
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Sometimes it almost seemed like he could sense her presence, and she had indeed held her breath when he looked up searchingly. Perhaps he had good instincts or was sensitive to magic. It was rare, but there were times where she would come across humans who suspected something more than what they could see with their eyes. Her heart beat quickly as he moved on, thanking the forest. He always seemed to speak to himself, and she liked to pretend that he was speaking to her at times.

"You're welcome." she mouthed silently, watching him fondly as he continued.

Illy proceeded to follow him, keeping a good distance so as not to spook him or give herself away. As she suspected, he was coming for a dip in the water. She eagerly watched as he stripped and then entered the river, knowing that this might be her chance to see the sketch-book. The mushrooms had surely caught his eyes, which might mean they were included in his drawings. He lingered nearby though, so she waited for a time before creeping toward his pack. She was just about to reach inside it when she heard a rough splash.

Her head lifted sharply and her eyes scanned the water. He seemed to be struggling against the current, having challenged it a bit recklessly in her opinion. The river was a bit agitated today, so she couldn't help but feel a bit concerned for his well-being. He looked to be strong though from what she had seen when he had removed some of his clothes. He could handle it, couldn't he?

Despite trying to reassure herself of this, she couldn't stop watching him. He seemed to be getting weaker and she thought she heard a slight noise of pain over the rumble of the river, followed by something that was spoken more harshly.

With wide-eyes, she realized that he was heading straight for a vortex, and he likely wouldn't have the strength at this point to avoid getting sucked under. She only hesitated for a moment before diving into the water after him. It wasn’t in her nature to ignore someone who desperately needed help. As she quickly swam through the water, she saw him get pulled under. A jolt of fear went through her which only motivated her to move faster.

The nymph plunged under the water and grabbed him under the arms, kicking off from the bottom of the river towards the shore. It was enough to propel them further enough to avoid being pulled in again, but she could feel that his body was limp in her arms. This wasn't a good sign.

The two of them surfaced, and she backstroked with him against her chest until she reached the edge of the river.
After several labored tugs, she dragged him onto the riverbank. While she had many talents, she wasn’t particularly strong. It was a struggle to pull a fully grown man’s body with her meager strength and it left her panting for breath.

Illy’s concerned green looked him over for signs of injury, seeing that while he had some gashes in different places on his body from the sharp river rocks, and a twisted ankle, he hadn’t sustained any life-threatening injuries. However, he had inhaled quite a bit of water. If she didn’t do something… he would surely die.

Water was not her domain so she couldn’t command it as a water nymph could. That being said, she had authority over the forest and all who dwelled within it, including the water. So while she wasn’t able to force it to do anything, she hoped that her authority would allow her to persuade it to leave him. At the very least she had to try - that was all she could do.

A delicate hand was laid upon his chest and her fingers started to glow a soft green, as did her eyes. “You do not belong in this man’s lungs. Please… leave this man and slake my thirst.” The nymph gently pulled his jaw downwards and pressed her lips against his in an open-mouthed kiss. To her relief, the water was heeding her call and draining from his lungs. Water was wild and unpredictable, but more often than not she found that it preferred being a source of nourishment rather than a vehicle for the forest’s resentment. Water and sunlight were the two bringers of life, after all.

She swallowed each mouthful of water that came to her, and soon his lungs were back to the state they had been before his unfortunate accident. A breath of relief was let out once she pulled back from him; she could see that he was breathing softly once more. He seemed to be unconscious at the moment, so she thought to herself that she might as well heal his ankle at the very least to enable him to return to his home.

Her glowing hand moved to his ankle and she started to heal him. She would leave his cuts as they were- after all, she didn’t want him questioning why he had no injuries when he came to. This way, perhaps he would believe that he had simply been lucky, the river depositing him on the bank in a fateful instance of mercy. While she mended him, Illuvian studied his face with interest. He was… rather handsome. Never had she had the opportunity to see his face so closely before, so she had never been able to fully appreciate it.
 
The world returned to Ethan in fragments: the sound of water rushing nearby, the warmth of sunlight on his skin, and the ache in his chest as his lungs strained to take in air. A sharp cough wracked his body, and water spewed from his mouth as his senses slowly sharpened. He rolled onto his side, gasping, his hands clutching at the damp ground beneath him.

“What… the hell,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. He blinked against the brightness, trying to piece together what had happened. He remembered the river, the overpowering current, and then… nothing. His last memory was of being dragged under, a cold and weightless spiral into darkness.

He pushed himself upright with trembling arms, his body protesting every movement. His ankle throbbed, though not as severely as it should have, given the sharp twist he remembered before being swallowed by the water. He reached down, his fingers brushing against the swollen joint. It hurt, but not as much as he expected. A faint, tingling warmth lingered there, almost as though the pain had been dulled by unseen hands.

Ethan looked around, his gaze darting to the river. The current was deceptively calm near the shore, belying the chaotic strength he'd encountered farther out. His clothes and pack lay undisturbed a short distance away, exactly as he’d left them.

“How… did I get here?” he muttered. His hand pressed against his chest as he drew in another shaky breath. “I should’ve drowned.” The weight of that realization hit him hard, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He ran a hand through his damp hair, searching his surroundings as if the answer to his survival might be carved into the trees or written in the river’s flow.

The forest was still, almost unnaturally so. He couldn’t even hear the usual chatter of birds or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was as though the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to move or speak. Ethan's green eyes narrowed as they scanned the woods. For a moment, he swore he felt something - someone - watching him. It was faint, like a whisper of intuition brushing the edge of his thoughts.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice stronger this time, though it still carried an edge of uncertainty. The stillness answered him with silence.

Ethan’s gaze lingered on the trees. There was something about the air here, something he couldn’t explain. He’d always been sensitive to his surroundings—he prided himself on his ability to read the land, to sense changes in the environment. This, however, was different. It wasn’t the natural tension of an animal nearby or the looming threat of a storm. It was… something else. Something he couldn’t define but felt deeply.

“Okay, Ethan,” he muttered, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You’re alive. Somehow. Focus on that.” His fingers brushed the faint scratches on his arms and legs. These were real, tangible reminders of the river’s force, though they were nothing compared to the fate he’d narrowly avoided.

He looked toward the water again, as if it might offer an answer. “Thanks, I guess,” he said, half-laughing and half-scoffing at the absurdity of it. Whether he was addressing the river, the forest, or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he shouldn’t be breathing right now.

Carefully, he stood, testing his weight on his ankle. It held, surprisingly steady for what should have been a serious injury. Ethan frowned, his mind running in circles. Maybe he had been lucky. Maybe the current had spat him out at the right time. Or maybe… something, or someone, had intervened.

As he gathered his belongings, he glanced back toward the forest one last time. The feeling of being watched had faded, but a lingering sense of mystery remained. Ethan didn’t know what had happened here today, but one thing was certain: the forest wasn’t just a place. It was alive in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now.
 
He had come to so suddenly that it spooked her, the nymph springing to her feet and swiftly fleeing into the trees where she could hide. Once she was safely in the tree-line, she peeked at him from behind the trunk of an oak tree. The man was speaking now- that was a very good sign. Without the water in his lungs and with his ankle largely healed, he would be able to get back to his cabin without trouble.

He was soaked to the bone from the cold water of the river, but it was a warm day. One didn’t need to worry about getting hypothermia unless it was nighttime with the recent temperatures.

Once again, he seemed to sense more than what his eyes told him, and she practically jumped out of her skin when he looked at her and called out a greeting. She soon realized that he hadn’t actually seen her, but had made a very good guess about where she might be. She had to take a few quiet breaths to still her quickened heart. It was alright… there was no way he could know that she was there even if he sensed something more.

Of course she wasn’t going to answer him, merely continuing her silent watch over the man she had just rescued. Though when he turned to thank the river, he was given a silently mouthed, “you’re welcome, traveler.”

She smiled and turned away, satisfied with his status now that he was on his own two feet. The nymph then disappeared into a tree so she could walk the paths in a different part of the forest. While she hadn’t gotten to see his drawings, she was content with having given him a second chance.

Several days went by, and she walked different parts of the vast forest as she usually did, humming all the while. There a natural hot springs in the forest, though it wasn’t near his cabin. As such, she assumed he wouldn’t know of it or think to go there in the night and didn’t think to put a mirage upon herself. It was a clear night with a bright moon that was almost full, and she decided to indulge herself in the hot waters.

Humming softly to herself, she pulled her dress up and over her head to be dropped onto the ground in a heap. She had no need for underwear, and did not wear bras as humans did- her dress was adequate enough to keep her breasts from bouncing too much if she deigned to run. Her crown of leaves was also removed, the nymph brushing her hair behind her shoulder to reveal her pointed ears.

The pale moonlight shown upon her creamy skin, her chestnut hair coming all the way down to the plump curves of her ass. All she was adorned with now were the raised tattoos of leaves and vines. They were enchanted to change with the seasons, reflecting the current state of the forest.

Her foot was dipped into the water to test the temperature before she walked herself into the pool. Oh, it was glorious! The steaming water soothed her tired muscles and allowed her to relax, still humming but now doing so with a very pleased smile on her face.
 
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Ethan navigated the well-worn path toward the spring, the moonlight casting the forest in soft, silvery hues. The night was quiet, save for the gentle rustle of leaves in the warm breeze and the occasional chirp of crickets. He carried a small towel slung over his shoulder, his steps deliberate as he approached the clearing. The spring wasn’t far from his cabin, and he’d often come here to soak and ease the tension from his body after a long day. Tonight was no different - at least, that’s what he thought.

As the spring came into view, Ethan’s footsteps faltered. The unmistakable sound of humming drifted through the air, soft and melodic. His brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. Someone else was here? That was rare. Most avoided these woods at night, wary of stories about its strange energy.

His movements were instinctively quieter now, his curiosity outweighing any inclination to announce himself. As he stepped closer, he caught a glimpse of a figure in the water—a woman. Her back was to him, the moonlight highlighting her pale, flawless skin and long chestnut hair that cascaded down her back. His eyes widened at the sight, though he quickly averted his gaze when he realized she was unclothed.

“Uh… hello?” he called hesitantly, his voice breaking the stillness.

The woman’s head snapped around toward the sound of his voice, her movements fluid and swift. Before he could catch more than a glimpse of her features—a flash of green eyes, the curve of her cheek—she darted out of the water, her form disappearing into the trees in an instant. Ethan blinked, stunned by the speed at which she moved. She was gone almost as quickly as he had noticed her.

“Wait!” he called after her, though his voice was more reflexive than expectant. There was no sign of her in the dense forest beyond the spring’s edge.

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. His gaze fell to the ground where a dress lay in a heap. It was simple yet unusual, woven with intricate patterns of leaves and vines. He crouched down, running his fingers over the fabric. It felt unlike anything he’d ever touched—soft yet imbued with a subtle energy, like it was alive in some way.

“Guess this is yours,” he muttered, picking it up. He stood and glanced toward the forest again, scanning the trees for any sign of the mysterious woman. Nothing.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ethan folded the dress carefully and set it on a nearby rock, close enough to the spring for her to retrieve if she returned. He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the water, which now seemed unnaturally still.

“Well, that was… strange,” he said, exhaling sharply. Shaking his head, he stepped toward the spring and began to undress, setting his clothes in a neat pile beside the rock. Sliding into the hot water, he let out a groan of relief as the warmth enveloped him, soothing his muscles.

As he leaned back against a smooth rock at the water’s edge, Ethan’s mind wandered back to the woman. She hadn’t seemed like someone who had wandered here by accident. Her movements were too graceful, her appearance too otherworldly. Who was she? What was she doing here?

He glanced over at the folded dress, now illuminated by the moonlight. “You’ve got some explaining to do if I ever see you again,” he murmured to himself with a faint smile, though his tone was more curious than critical.

For now, the questions would have to wait. He leaned back, allowing himself to relax, even as his thoughts churned with possibilities.
 
Indeed, she had exited the pool and disappeared into the night as quickly as her fae legs would carry her. Normally, the trees might have warned her of his approach, but she had been too distracted by the pleasant warmth of the water and her own thoughts.

It wasn't unnatural to be naked- humanoid creatures were the only ones who wore clothes while the rest of the animal kingdom made due with what they were given. But while that may have been true, she couldn't help but feel a burning in her cheeks at the thought of him having seen her lithe form without any sort of covering. Granted he hadn't seen her for very long, probably only a glance even, but it was enough for her to feel embarrassed.

Now he knew of her presence, though hopefully he would assume she was just a wild woman having come to the forest briefly for the hot springs. On second thought... that sounded rather unlikely, didn't it? Not more unlikely than her being a nymph, she supposed. Of the two lines of deduction, humans tended to rationalize things in a way that made them feel safe, not call into question mysterious forces that they didn't understand.

After soaking for a while, if he glanced back to the rock again, he would find that the clothes were gone, including the leaf crown. She had morphed into a mouse, scurrying up to the stone before changing back into a woman and once again stealing away into the night on silent, padded footsteps. However, what she hadn’t noticed in her haste was that a small pouch she kept on her belt had been loosened by her time in the river, and had now fallen to the ground near the side of the rock he had placed her things on.

If one looked in the bag, they would find an ornate, golden locket with an opal in the middle of it. It was impossible and very subtle, but if one looked long enough, they would see the different colors in the stone changing regardless of whether one tilted the jewel in and out of the light. The thing wasn’t a piece of costume jewelry either: it was pure gold. Tiny rubies had been in-laid into the metal, and the thing itself was likely worth a pretty penny. She kept it in that little bag to keep it safe when she wasn’t dancing with the fae on the solstices. While the nymph had always been drawn to shiny things, that particular piece was precious to her and had been in her possession for over two hundred years. It had been gifted to her from the nymph who had been the previous caretaker of this forest.

When she realized the next day that it was no longer with her, she immediately asked the trees where she might find it again. The answer she got made her eyes well up. How was she supposed to get it back from the man now? Even if he didn’t leave the forest after almost having drowned here, humans were dangerous. She knew he resided in a cabin that had been built about fifteen years ago, but she was unable to sneak inside it. Like some other mythical creatures, the fae had to be invited into the home before they could enter, as was custom.

She ended up simply staking out the place, watching to see if she could perhaps find an opportunity to search his pack. Illy was desperate to have her necklace back, so she even considered leaving him a message. The woman was going back and forth on whether to do this as the hours went by.
 
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Ethan stretched as he stepped out of the spring, the cool night air wrapping around his skin in sharp contrast to the heat of the water. His body felt lighter, his muscles relaxed after the soak. He reached for his towel and dried off, glancing toward the rock where the strange dress had been.

It was gone.

He froze, his brow furrowing. “Huh,” he muttered to himself, scanning the clearing. No sign of the woman. She must have come back for it while he was soaking, though he hadn’t heard a thing. Quick and quiet, he thought, shaking his head. “Guess you really didn’t want to talk, huh?”

As he bent down to gather his belongings, his gaze caught a glint on the ground near the rock. Something small and shining. Curious, he crouched and picked it up, turning it over in his hand. It was a pouch, its material soft and worn, as though it had been carried for years. He loosened the drawstring and tilted it, letting its contents slide into his palm.

“Whoa…” he breathed.

A locket. Golden and intricate, with an opal at its center that shimmered with an unnatural vibrancy. The colors in the stone shifted subtly, like sunlight playing on a rippling stream. Tiny rubies lined the edges, catching the moonlight. The craftsmanship was unlike anything Ethan had ever seen.

“This isn’t just some trinket,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the locket. He turned it over, half-expecting an inscription, but there was nothing—only the smooth, polished surface of gold.

He stared at it for a moment longer, captivated by the way the opal seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive. Finally, he shook himself out of his reverie. “Probably hers,” he said, glancing toward the woods. The woman from the spring. If she’d left it behind, it must be valuable—or important.

Ethan slipped the locket back into the pouch and tied it securely. “Guess I’ll hold onto it until she shows up again,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure how or when that might happen. He had no idea who she was or where she came from, only that she moved through the forest like a shadow, leaving barely a trace.

The night air was getting cooler, and Ethan decided it was time to head back. He gathered his things and started toward his cabin, the pouch tucked safely into his pack. As he walked, his mind kept drifting back to the strange woman. Her graceful movements, the ethereal quality of her presence, the dress that seemed woven from the forest itself—all of it felt like something out of a dream.

And now this locket. He couldn’t help but feel it held more secrets than its appearance suggested.



Back at his cabin, Ethan lit a small lantern and set the pouch on the table. He hesitated for a moment before taking the locket out again, the opal catching the flickering light. Something about it drew him in. Tentatively, he rubbed his thumb over the surface of the opal, curious to see if it did anything.

The air around him shifted. Ethan blinked and looked down at his hands—only, they were gone.

“What the—?!” he exclaimed, stumbling back. His voice echoed in the small cabin, but his body was completely invisible. Panicked, he reached for the locket again, rubbing the opal furiously. The sensation faded, and his form reappeared, his hands shaking slightly.

He stared at the locket, his mind racing. “This isn’t just jewelry,” he muttered. “This… this is magic.”

Ethan sat down heavily, the locket still in his hand. Who was that woman? And what kind of world had he just stumbled into?
 
So she couldn't enter his home, nor could she knock and introduce herself as though this was a casual encounter. The less he knew about her the better, so she wanted to keep their interaction to a minimum. The woman pondered on this until she decided that a message would be warranted in this situation.

She tree-walked to the cave in which she kept her things, one that was hidden behind a waterfall. Where was it... Her hands rummaged through a few things on a little stone shelf until she found it. It was a roll of paper, a small one. It was about three inches long, curled into a spool. The woman ripped off a strip of it and took out a quill, dipping it into some ink before scrawling a message upon it.


Please give back my necklace, traveler. Leave it upon the roots of the nearest tree, and I shall reclaim it. Clear your mind of our meeting and be well.

Satisfied with the written request, she tucked it into her belt and grabbed a few gold coins as well. If he didn't feel like letting the amulet go due to its value, then she would have to try to buy it back. Humans were often concerned about value and money, after all.

Illy crept up to the picnic table outside his cabin, leaving the note under a stone to hold it down. She also left some bright-red berries to catch his attention, though these were not the poisonous kind. That would probably send the wrong sort of message, she figured. Once that was done, she retreated into the tree-line to watch and wait, hoping he did as he was asked.
 
Ethan stepped outside his cabin the next morning, a steaming mug of coffee in hand. The crisp morning air filled his lungs, and he took a moment to admire the peaceful forest around him. He was about to settle onto the porch when something unusual on the picnic table caught his eye.

Curious, he approached, setting his mug down as he examined the arrangement. A note, weighed down by a small stone, and a cluster of vibrant red berries beside it. The simplicity of it intrigued him. Definitely not something left by a squirrel, he thought wryly.

He unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the elegant, flowing script:

Please give back my necklace, traveler.
Leave it upon the roots of the nearest tree, and I shall reclaim it.
Clear your mind of our meeting and be well.


Ethan reread the note twice, his thumb absently brushing the edge of the paper. Whoever wrote it was polite—and cryptic. But there was no mistaking the intent: the necklace wasn’t his to keep.

“Alright,” he said aloud, turning the note over to see if there was more. Nothing. “Guess that answers where it came from.”

He glanced toward the forest, half-expecting to see someone watching him, but the trees stood silent and still. The woman from the spring was behind this, no doubt. Who else could it be? But why the secrecy? Why the insistence he forget their encounter?

Ethan set the note down and rubbed his jaw, considering his options. He could simply return the necklace as instructed—drop it at the base of a tree and be done with it. But something gnawed at him. Whoever she was, she clearly wasn’t an ordinary person. The locket’s magic had made that abundantly clear.

He sat at the table, pulled out a notebook from his pocket, and tore a blank page from it. If she wanted to communicate this way, he could play along.

Taking a pencil, he wrote:

I’ll return your necklace, but I’d like to understand who you are and why you can’t just ask in person. You seem to know this forest well—too well for someone just passing through. Are you from here? Or something else? I’m not looking for trouble, but I don’t think you are, either.

He paused, tapping the pencil against the table. After a moment’s thought, he added:

If you’re worried I’ll be scared or angry, don’t be. You saved me. That’s all I need to know about your intentions. Show yourself, and I’ll give you the necklace myself. I promise I won’t hurt you.

Satisfied, Ethan folded the note and set it beneath the same stone. He placed the locket pouch beside it and then stepped back, crossing his arms as he looked toward the woods.

“Your move,” he murmured, before retreating to the porch with his coffee. He’d wait as long as it took. Something told him she wasn’t far.
 
About an hour passed before there was the fluttering of feathers. A bird had lighted upon the picnic table, eating one of the berries before hopping toward the note he had written and regarding it with what seemed like curiosity. It took the paper in its beak and took off, flapping away into the tree-line.

Though he couldn't see it, the bird found Illy and deposited the note into her hands before flying away. She thanked the bird and looked over the note.

She had watched him read her own note and write something down, and she had waited for him to leave. When he did not, she had frowned and realized that he was waiting for her to retrieve the note herself. That was not something she was going to risk at the moment, so she had asked a bird if they would obtain his letter for her.

The nymph read his reply and pursed her lips into a thin line. So he had connected the dots regarding the river rescue... She supposed it wasn't that much of a leap to assume that the mysterious woman might have saved him previously. He was asking a lot of questions though, questions that she didn't want to answer. The fae did not lie- or rather, they could not. They could speak in half-truths, be vague, or refuse to answer, but an outright lie was impossible. Humans on the other hand had no such limitations.

This could be a trap… She hadn’t seen any other humans nearby, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be waiting for her himself with some insidious plan. Perhaps he would force her to show him where she kept the rest of her jewels and jewelry, intending to steal it from her. Or maybe he would use the necklace to lure her close enough to grab, at which point he would cage her for his own pleasure or gain. A cage of cold, unfeeling iron was something that filled her with dread. The iron caused pain of a spiritual nature, so it would be a torturous existence.

Still...

Illuvian sighed and looked back up to the cabin where he remained in wait. It seemed she would have little choice but to humor him a little until she could get close enough to grab the pouch. One might assume that she should have had an animal fetch it for her, but the locket was something from the fae realm and thus should not be handled by anyone other than herself if she could help it.

With a deep breath, the nymph started forward with measured steps, quietly approaching the cabin from the side out of his sight. She was prepared to flee at any moment, her eyes scanning the ground and area to make sure there weren't any traps he had lain. It wasn't long before she turned the corner, her dark green eyes regarding him warily as she drifted toward the picnic table. The forest seemed to hush as though the very trees were trying to be witness to their exchange.

"I intend to take my locket and go, traveler," she said in a soft voice, "I thank you for your willingness to return it to me."

It was obvious by her statement that regardless of what he had written, she didn't want to have a conversation with him but still wanted to remain polite.
 
Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on the edge of the forest, waiting, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen. The quiet of the morning had started to feel oppressive, and even the birds seemed to have stopped their usual chatter. His fingers absentmindedly tapped the mug on the railing of the porch as he tried to remain patient.

He had almost convinced himself to go back inside when he caught a glimpse of movement near the picnic table. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light or just another animal, but as he focused, he saw a bird—no, the bird—dart down, hop toward the note, and nudge it with its beak before lifting it into the air. The bird flew off into the trees, carrying the paper that he had written.

Ethan stood, his heart quickening. He could feel his pulse thrumming in his chest as he took a tentative step toward the table, waiting for something to happen. He could sense the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. For a long minute, nothing changed.

Then, a shadow flickered in his peripheral vision, moving with the grace of someone who didn’t want to be seen. His eyes narrowed, and he instinctively stilled. The figure that materialized from the treeline was nothing short of mesmerizing—dressed in forest greens and browns that seemed to blend with the surroundings. She moved with the fluidity of the wind, her presence almost ethereal.

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. She was here.

His gaze flickered to her face, but before he could say anything, she spoke first, her voice a soft whisper carried by the breeze.

“I intend to take my locket and go, traveler,” she said, her words clipped but polite. “I thank you for your willingness to return it to me.”

Her tone wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t warm either. Ethan’s fingers twitched as he looked at the small pouch on the table, the golden locket inside it glinting in the sunlight. It had been a quiet exchange so far, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Part of him wanted to reach out, to ask more questions, but another part of him understood her reluctance.

There was a lot he didn’t know about her, and she had been clear in her note about wanting to keep things minimal. Still, he had expected her to reveal herself sooner or later, and he was far from disappointed by the moment.

“You’re welcome,” Ethan said, keeping his tone gentle. He let his gaze linger on the locket but made no move toward it. “I wasn’t going to keep it, I promise. It was never mine to take.”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to push his luck. But curiosity got the better of him. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why leave a note? Why not just—come to me directly?”

Ethan took a step back, his eyes meeting hers, trying to gauge her reaction. Her presence was almost magnetic, like the very air hummed with her energy. It made him wonder just what she was—and what she feared.

“I don’t mean to intrude on you,” he added quickly, “But I’d like to understand more. If you’re willing.”

His words were slow and deliberate, careful not to sound demanding. He wasn’t trying to push her, but he couldn’t help himself. Something about this moment felt significant—like a thread between them that had only just begun to unravel. He stayed still, his eyes on her, waiting for a response. He wasn’t sure what she’d do, but a part of him hoped she’d stay. The other part, though, feared he might have already said too much.
 
Her head cocked slightly to the side for a moment as she pondered his question. So far, he didn't see to be the deceiving type, but she was still going to treat him with caution. She didn't have to answer him, but she recognized that he didn't have to give her locket back. The exchange should be an equal one, she thought to herself. Then his curiosity would be sated and they would go their separate ways.

"As a woman, would you approach a man alone in the woods, by yourself, to retrieve something that looks and is extremely valuable?" She had countered his question with one of her own, hoping to indicate that it was merely an instance where he assumed she was just a cautious human. None of his current assumptions about her had been confirmed, after all.

She reluctantly held up three fingers starting with her thumb. “Three questions and three answers. Ask me three questions and I will answer truthfully, but be careful of what you ask. There will be no recourse for you if you don’t like the answer I provide, and there may be information you may wish you hadn’t asked for. After that, the ledger will be balanced between us."

The fae were often masters of wordplay, and she was also skilled at this. Should he ask inane questions, he would be disappointed in her vague answers.
 
Ethan’s brows furrowed as he considered her response, her words both disarming and challenging. The question she posed wasn’t just rhetorical—it forced him to look at the situation from her perspective. Alone, in the woods, with something valuable to recover? He would’ve been cautious too, human or not.

He offered a small nod, the edges of his lips curling into an understanding smile. "Fair enough," he said, the words quiet but sincere. “I can’t say I’d be any braver in your position.”

Her next offer, though, surprised him. Three questions, three answers, with an ominous warning attached. There was weight in her tone, a deliberate finality that made him hesitate. Ethan wasn’t naïve; he could sense the careful phrasing and the potential for pitfalls in whatever truth she might reveal. Yet, curiosity gnawed at him like a persistent itch. He’d been given a rare opportunity, and it wasn’t in his nature to let it slip away.

He stepped back a little farther, resting a hand on the edge of the picnic table. The morning sunlight danced on the trees behind her, but the air between them felt heavy, expectant.

“Alright,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest. “Three questions. But I’ll try to make them count.”

Ethan drew in a slow breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. There were so many things he wanted to ask—who she was, what she was, why she’d saved him that day by the river. But he knew he’d have to tread carefully. She’d made it clear that the answers might not bring the comfort or clarity he was hoping for.

He finally met her eyes, a faint glint of determination in his gaze. “First question,” he began. “Why did you save me from the river?”

It was the question that had haunted him the most since that day, the one that had kept him awake some nights. If she truly was something beyond human, then her actions didn’t seem random or meaningless. There had to be a reason—didn’t there?

Ethan kept his stance relaxed, but his mind raced, bracing for an answer that might change everything.
 
It was an understandable question, and she chose to answer with something other than, 'because I could." He seemed to be taking this seriously, so she figured she would at least put some of his curiosity to rest.

"I saved you because I wanted to save you- I thought that it would be a shame if you perished. From what I've observed, you seem fairly respectful of your surroundings, and I find you... interesting." Her eyes averted from his for moment despite her efforts to retain a neutral expression.

Not a word of untruth was spoken, yet she felt just a sliver of embarrassment for admitting having watched him. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed watching him though; when she saw him scribbling in his drawings-book or muttering to himself, she always found herself drawn to watch him.

One of her fingers lowered. "You have two more questions."
 
Ethan leaned back slightly, processing her words. The admission of being "watched" didn’t sit entirely comfortably, but her tone carried no malice. Instead, there was something oddly vulnerable about the way her gaze briefly broke away from his. He felt a strange mix of gratitude and unease. Whoever—or whatever—she was, she’d chosen to save him not out of obligation, but out of some personal connection, however faint or mysterious.

"Interesting," he repeated quietly, almost to himself, his voice tinged with both surprise and curiosity. He wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered or unsettled by her choice of words.

As her finger lowered, signaling the passing of the first question, he let out a slow breath. This was an unusual conversation, and the stakes felt higher than he could fully understand. He couldn’t afford to squander the opportunity. The next question needed to count.

Ethan crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. He was torn between practical inquiries and more profound, existential ones. After a moment, he decided on a question that might help him understand her—and their strange connection—better.

“Second question,” he began, his voice calm but deliberate. “What is it that draws you to this forest? Why here, of all places?”

It wasn’t the question he initially thought he’d ask, but something about her presence in these woods—the way she seemed to embody them—compelled him to understand more.
 
Technically that was two questions and if she really wanted to be difficult, she could have counted them as such. However, she reasoned that it was really more of a reiteration than a new question, an explanation of what he meant and what he wanted to know.

“I am not drawn here- the forest is mine and I am the forest’s.” It was a rather cryptic answer, to be sure, but she figured it was at least better than simply telling him he was incorrect.

It wasn’t as though she had been attracted to this place and decided to stay. She was born here, her sole purpose to nurture and care for this place that brimmed with life and potential.

Her second finger lowered, signaling that he only had one last question left. Soon his opportunity for answers would be over, and they would be back to their usual status quo. She had to admit that she found it a bit refreshing to be able to talk to him face to face, but it was still too dangerous to make into a habit.
 
Ethan nodded thoughtfully, her answer both revealing and enigmatic. The way she spoke, claiming a bond with the forest that felt more profound than mere familiarity, gave him pause. The forest is mine and I am the forest’s. The words echoed in his mind, sparking a flurry of questions he couldn’t ask. Was she a guardian? A spirit? Something else entirely? Her answer invited more mysteries than it solved, but he had to respect the rules she’d set.

As her second finger lowered, Ethan felt the weight of the moment. He had one final question, and he couldn’t squander it. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and fixed his gaze on her. He knew this wasn’t just an opportunity for answers—it was a fleeting chance to connect with someone, or something, wholly unlike anyone he’d met before.

“Alright,” he said slowly, his voice steady. “Last question.” He paused, considering his words carefully. Finally, he asked, “What is your name?”

It was simple, direct, and personal. Ethan didn’t know if she’d answer, but something about knowing her name felt important. It would ground this encounter, make it feel less like a strange dream and more like a meeting of two beings, however different they might be.
 
His question had her looking surprised. To him, a mortal who likely didn’t understand the rules and intricacies of the fae, it would be a useless question. Knowing her name would only give him the satisfaction of knowing what she was called. Was he so curious about her that he would waste his third question on such a thing?

However, he was likely unaware that names held power. To provide someone with your true name was tantamount to giving them permission to call on you. It was a risky business as true names could also be used to bind someone should that name fall into the wrong hands. It was an intimate affair, true names usually spoken into the ear of their lover after cementing their bond. While she felt apprehensive at the idea of him having her name, she had promised to answer his questions and so she was bound to that promise.

“My name is Illuvian.”

When she spoke it aloud, the name seemed to reverberate with energy. The forest became deathly quiet as though hoping she might speak it aloud again.
 
Ethan heard the name—Illuvian—and it struck him like the soft hum of a tuning fork, reverberating in the stillness. The moment the name left her lips, the forest seemed to hold its breath. No rustle of leaves, no chirping birds, no whisper of the wind. It was as if the entire forest hung on the syllables, acknowledging the significance of her revelation.

Illuvian,” he repeated, almost in a whisper. The name felt foreign yet familiar, rolling off his tongue like the melody of an ancient song he hadn’t realized he’d been humming all his life. His voice carried an awe he couldn’t hide, the weight of her name settling into the space between them.

The air around him seemed to shift, charged with a strange, almost electric energy. The trees, the ground, even the cabin at his back—everything felt alive in a way it hadn’t just moments before. It was subtle but undeniable, as though the forest itself responded to her name being spoken aloud.

“Your name,” he murmured again, looking at the ground briefly, then back up toward her. His gaze lingered on the spot where she had stood, though he now saw only shadows of movement in the trees. “It suits you.”

He rubbed his hands together absently, feeling the stillness of the world around him. His curiosity, which had burned so brightly before, dimmed for a moment as something else took its place—respect. Not just for her, but for whatever force bound her to this place. He realized, perhaps for the first time, that he might not ever fully understand what he’d just encountered. And maybe that was okay.

“Thank you, Illuvian,” he said softly, not expecting a response. He rose from the table and cast one last glance toward the forest before turning toward his cabin, the name still echoing in his mind.

Illuvian. It was a name he wouldn’t forget.
 
Of course her name suited her- it was always meant to be hers. That being said, for reasons unknown to her, she felt a bit shy from the compliment. How long had it been since someone had uttered her name aloud? The only being she could think of who had been granted the opportunity was the nymph who came before her, who had taught her the ways of the wood and guided her until it was her turn to stride through the forest paths alone. Of course there were various trees who remembered, but they didn't speak in the way animals did and thus were unable to carry the syllables on the wind in the same way.

After her name had been spoken, she had taken her locket and retreated into the treeline once more. Though she did linger for a few moments as he thanked her, the nymph's curious eyes watching him as he went back inside. She still didn't know him as anything other than the traveler, having not asked for his name. Now though, she wished she had. It would have been more fair in that way, but more than that... she wanted to know what he was called.

Why was he living in the forest these days? He had shown up suddenly, and didn't seem to be doing anything specific. He walked the trails, mumbled, and drew. Sometimes he would simply find a place to sit and take in the peace of the forest. As far as she knew, most of the humans had to do tasks in order to trade for food or other items, but it didn't seem as though he was doing so. Perhaps he had already met his required tasks or was taking a break, but it didn't seem to make sense to her. He was alone... he hadn't brought a companion or a family. He wasn't there to hunt or study, nor was he there to do some of the other illicit things she had seen from time to time.

Who was he, and why was he here?

Her curiosity was at a slow simmer as she turned away, disappearing into the trees and going to do her rounds.
 
The days following Ethan’s strange encounter passed with a quiet, unspoken tension. The forest felt different now—charged, alive in ways he couldn’t fully articulate. He couldn’t help but replay the exchange in his mind: her presence, the way she moved like a shadow among the trees, and, of course, the name she had given him.

Illuvian.

It lingered in his thoughts like a melody stuck on repeat. He found himself scribbling it absentmindedly into the margins of his notebook alongside the sketches he’d made of the forest: trees bending in impossible shapes, the glimmer of light on the river, even a rough, incomplete attempt at capturing her silhouette. But no matter how much he sketched or wrote, it felt inadequate, as though her name and presence defied capture.

On the morning of the third day after their latest encounter, Ethan sat at the picnic table with a steaming mug of coffee. His sketchbook lay open before him, though his pencil hovered over the page without moving. The forest felt particularly alive that day—the birdsong sharper, the breeze warmer. Even the scent of the pines seemed richer. It was as though the air itself was waiting for something.

Illuvian,” he said softly, almost absentmindedly, his voice breaking the stillness.

The moment her name left his lips, the forest seemed to react. A shiver ran through the trees, their leaves trembling despite the stillness of the air. The birds abruptly fell silent, and for a breathless moment, the world seemed to narrow around him. He froze, gripping his mug tightly, his heart racing.

“What the hell...” he muttered, glancing around. The forest, so alive just moments ago, had turned eerily quiet. It wasn’t threatening, not exactly, but it felt as though something—or someone—was listening. He set the mug down carefully and stood, his gaze scanning the treeline.

Ethan stepped a few paces away from the table, unsure whether to feel foolish or afraid. “I didn’t mean...” he began, then stopped, realizing he wasn’t sure who or what he was speaking to. The stillness remained, pressing down on him like a held breath. He felt exposed, as though the forest itself were watching him.

“Okay, that’s... new,” he muttered, shaking his head. He forced himself to take a deep breath and return to his seat, trying to dismiss the sensation as his imagination running wild. Yet the weight of her name still lingered in the air, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d just crossed an invisible line.​
 
As soon as he looked up, he would see her sitting opposite him as though she had been invited to his table. In a manner of speaking, this wasn’t too far from the truth. To speak a name like hers aloud was akin to summoning her, and she was bound to answer to the best of her ability. This sort of thing had its limitations, and technically she could resist for a time, but it constantly pulled at her being until she complied with the summons. One might compare it to walking around with an alarm clock going off. It wasn’t physically painful, but it was extremely bothersome.

Something he might notice about her this time was that she was dripping wet and had mud all over her hands and arms as though she had been digging through it. Though her lovely face was still as mysterious as ever, there no mistaking the annoyance that graced her dainty features.

When he called for her, she had been at the river getting a bear cub unstuck from some mud. Normally she might have left this to the cub’s parent, but the bear had promised that if she did this that she would leave the nearby beehive alone for the season. This meant that Illuvian now had a justifiable reason to ask the bees to grant her a bit of their honey, having secured the bear’s portion of it which would have been much more. It wasn’t as though she needed honey, but she adored the sweet treat.

Thankfully she had still been able to complete her task, but his summons had been distracting and she had been made to finish up in a hurry so she could respond.

“I hope you have a good reason for summoning me, traveler,” she spoke in a tone that indicated that her patience was rather strained that day, her dark green eyes fixed on him expectantly.
 
Ethan nearly spilled his coffee as his eyes lifted from his sketchbook to find her sitting across from him. The sight of Illuvian, suddenly and inexplicably present, knocked the breath out of him. Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto his, her expression unreadable save for a glimmer of irritation.

His mouth opened, then closed, words failing him as he took in the unexpected sight. She looked different this time. Her skin glistened with water, droplets catching the light like tiny jewels. Mud streaked her arms and hands, and her hair, damp and wild, clung to her shoulders as though she'd just waded out of the river. For all her otherworldly beauty, her annoyance was unmistakable, and it unsettled him.

“Uh... I...” Ethan stumbled over his words, struggling to make sense of her sudden appearance. “I didn’t... summon you.”

He set his coffee mug down carefully, his hands raised slightly as though to ward off whatever frustration she might direct his way. “I mean, I don’t even know how I could summon you.”

His mind raced, trying to piece together what might have happened. He replayed the last few moments in his head—sitting at the table, saying her name, and then... this. His brow furrowed, confusion giving way to the faintest hint of guilt. Had that done it? Could saying her name have been the reason?

“I just said your name,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter, almost cautious now. “I didn’t know it would... make you show up. I swear.” He glanced at her mud-streaked arms, then back to her face, a flicker of concern crossing his features. “Were you... in the middle of something?”

The silence that followed felt weighted, like the forest itself was holding its breath again. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, acutely aware of how unprepared he was for this moment. She seemed so completely out of place against the rustic backdrop of his cabin and the picnic table. He felt like he’d interrupted something important—something bigger than himself.

“Well,” he started again, trying to fill the silence, “since you’re here... do you want a towel or something? You look like you’ve been wrestling the river.”

The faintest hint of a nervous laugh escaped him, though it quickly died when her expression didn’t soften. “Okay, bad joke. Seriously, though, if I’ve done something wrong, I didn’t mean to. I’m... sorry.” He leaned back slightly, hands spread in a gesture of surrender.

“I have no idea how any of this works,” he added, his voice taking on an earnest edge. “You’re just... here, and I have no clue why. So... yeah. Enlighten me?”

Ethan’s gaze met hers again, and though he couldn’t shake the nervous energy running through him, he found himself fascinated all over again by the mystery she carried. For all her annoyance, there was something about her presence that made the world feel sharper, brighter, and more alive than it had any right to be.​
 
Based on what she could make of him, it seemed that his only fault was ignorance. He didn't seem to have called her maliciously as she could tell that he was genuinely confused and uncomfortable by the situation. Most humans these days didn't understand the way of the fae nor of the forest, though more often than not this resulted in much more harsh consequences than having an annoyed nymph at their table. There were nymphs that boasted about drowning humans, cursing them in one horrible way or another, or simply tormenting them until they left. Illuvian thought that this was all rather cruel and unnecessary.

Still. None of that changed the fact that she didn't like that she had been made to rush what she was doing in order to attend to him. The nymph frowned and let out a tense sigh. “Since you claim not to know the ways, I will indeed enlighten you.”

"I will start by saying: please do not be so careless with my name. It is not a tasty morsel to be savored on your tongue for your own enjoyment- it is a summons whether you know it or not. Though you may not have consciously intended to call me to you, that is what you have done. I have things to do, I'll have you know, and I will not take kindly to being subject to your whims." She hoped that bluff was enough to influence him into not calling her, seeing as though she had no recourse if he chose not to comply. Well, technically she could do any number of things to him to get her point across, but she was against doing so. All she wanted to do was live peacefully and respectfully in the same forest for as long as the two of them resided there. Cruelty wasn't in her nature, nor did she take any pleasure from another's suffering.

"I told you my name because I promised you three answers to three questions, and I am neither a liar nor one who goes back on my promises. I did not expect for you to ask this of me, but what is done is done. Names carry weight... mine particularly so. I will accept your apology today, but I bid you think about what I have explained to you. Now... Do you need any further clarification?"

The nymph crossed her arms and waited to see if he needed her to explain anything.
 
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