When one thinks of the fat, they generally think of sweet tiny women that are beautiful and filled with light and laughter. They do not, however, think of Caitriona. Dark hair and fair skin with vibrant green eyes that seemed to bore through the souls of men that had the misfortune of stumbling into the forest she kept. Why, just the week prior an unfortunate soul had poached one of the wild unicorns of the area, a sacred beast that wandered too close to the mortals had taken an arrow to the left flank; injuring the poor beast. Humans, they did not understand the ramifications of their actions, the impacts they had on the nature of the world. Or the dangers that lurked therein. 

The moon was high, full, and shining on the forest- the canopy casting intricate shadows that played like lace with the light. This was the chosen hour, between midnight and dawn where the veil thinned and magic reigned and mortals intuitively shied away to hide in their hovels and under thatched roofs. 
Caitriona loved the snow, blowing on the wind as it swirled around her bare feet. Each step light as air as she surveyed the forests of the night, drinking in the magic on the air and the peace that came with it. If only all the mortal realm could be such as it was now, in the twilight and time between. With a raise of her hands, fingers stroking the leaves of the low growing plants, she whispered “In i glad -o i dú, dilthen naur burning bright, tul- i sídh a might roeg foeir. Tul- i sídh a cleans i nifred ech- ha so baw adan plural edain tul- nev.”

A pulse of power went through the forest, warding against further poachers who dared to enter the land of the fae with ill intent and hate for their majestic animals. Any that made it through would surely be prey ripe for the picking, and the hunters would become the hunted. 

Sometimes, not very often these days; Killian found himself standing at the open door of his impossible airship as it bobbed through the night sky. Tonight, was one of those nights of just being still, staring at the stars. The ship moved slowly, almost imperceptibly. His sapphire eyes mirrored the sky as he took it all in. Once upon a time his kind had been known through out all those worlds, now he was the last of his kind. (Give or take a few missing children.)

Sundria and Costeni Still would not let themselves be found. Harmony His eldest had turned up, but their relationship had been destroyed with Killian’s last act as a god – an act that had cost him everything – and had nearly ended all worlds. His mood was dropping the more he thought about them, he could not go to that place again. It had taken him along time to relearn that love was more than pain.

The Novella turned back to face the inside of his ship; he took a few steps over to the controls in the centre column as the airship’s doors closed behind him. Idlily he adjusted runes, pulled levers and interacted with the wayfinder. It did not seem to be helping - he considered briefly traveling to a tavern.

Never again.

He walked away from the controls, into a corridor and down into his bedroom. Luna, his wife had gone to visit their mutual friend, so the room was empty. Killian dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping – and he was too miserable to meditate, but still his mind drifted off.

In i glad -o i dú, dilthen naur burning bright, tul- i sídh a might roeg foeir. Tul- i sídh a cleans i nifred ech- ha so baw adan plural edain tul- nev.

He heard the words as if they had been whispered in his ear, he felt then in his heart and his mind. If he had been paying attention, he would have remembered the feeling, it was a prayer. A blessing, a plea for protection.

His starry sapphire eyes sparkled as he suddenly felt purpose. In mere seconds he had skidded back into the control room, his fingers deftly plucked at levers and set co-ordinates. The Novella had no idea where he should be going – but something told him where he needed to go. Excitement leapt around the control room like lightning as he danced around his controls. Then he stopped, his hands clasped over the largest lever of them all, topped with a beautiful purple crystal.

Killian took a deep breath, pushed everything else away that had been on his mind. Then he threw himself backwards, using his weight to pull against the resistance of the lever. The ships engines roared and the ship disappeared.

A moment later it materialised with its mechanical wheeze in the forest where the plea had come from. A few seconds past and the doors flew open – Killian stepped out flamboyantly, his overcoat was enchanted to look like the night sky, he wore riding boots (Never ridden a horse in his life.) A simple tunic and a blue waist coat the exact colour of his eyes. He locked the door behind himself and set off towards the prayer.

“Hello there! Nice place you got here.” He said as soon as he saw the Fae. He knew what she was – he was married to one of her kind. “I am Killian, and I’m here to help.” He explained as he looked around the immediate area. “Nah eww no, that sounds rubbish, I sound like an over eager shop assistant. Ignore that last bit.” He spoke quickly, and mostly to himself – it was immediately clear he was no ordinary bloke. “Although I am actually here, because I want to help.”

Caitriona said the same blessing each night, each time pushing arcane power through the area to keep poachers at bay. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, and the fauna paid the price. Then, as the silence had sunk into her bones, it was gone with the scream of a metal on metal that grated on her last nerve. The quiet guardian was gone, replaced with bright eyes that flared to life and sharp teeth bared in a feral snarl. Who, in all of creation, would dare to violate the sanctity of the forest. The metal, the metal that brought with it an absurd man in absurd clothes with the eyes that caught the stars. 

What the seven hells. 
“You dare to bring metal to the land of the sidh,” the words were a harsh and accented English that rode heavily through her words. “We do not need metal, we need the mortals to stop leave, fo man to leave the beasts of the fae alone.” The words were quiet rage, subdued by the desire to preserve the peace of the sacred home of the fae. Ignoring the fact that there were human bones poised around the forest, placed to look like what it was- there was danger in these woods. A danger that fed on the flesh of mortal men.Men like this annoying shop keeper. 
“You are no mortal,” she said with a deep inhale, “What are you.” The words were spat as an accusation, one that boiled from her core and out through clenched teeth. 

Killian responded to the aggression in his usual way. Completely ignoring it. So, what if he had slightly mis-read the situation here – there was still something afoot! “Don’t you worry about my ship.” He tone was flat. Whilst it was made from metal, the Hullabaloo moved with no obvious means of combustion – and didn’t even sit on the floor, it hovered roughly six inches above it. It did not actually touch anything, a small field around it seemed to just lean gently on the area around it pushing it away.

As her anger built, he found his curiosity piked by the appearance of a relatively fresh-looking bone on the floor to her right. Now that is curious. He thought to himself. The moon light reflected against the white of the bone – it was clean. Now he really couldn’t leave it be. “I’m Killian.” He repeated in answer to her questions. (It wasn’t a very good answer, but people that could tell he wasn’t ordinary put him on edge.)

Without another word he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the bone. After plucking it up and regarding it a second in its entirety he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. The Novella slipped them on and moved the bone so close to his face he could have reached out with his tongue and touched it.

It had been stripped clean – in minutes. There wasn’t a scrap of meat left, but no bite marks on the surface. He put it back where he’d found it and picked up another – this time one of the long leg bones. It was exactly the same – freshly dead, stripped without a single blemish to the bone.

In one fluid moment he pulled off his glasses and moved to put his face in front of the Fae. “You did not do this. No, no, no.” As he spoke, he was gesturing towards her with the long bone. “Nor did any man.” Every word he said was quieter than the last – his sapphire eyes sparkled as they locked with her. She needed to decide if she was going to trust him. “I think it is time for you to fill me in on what’s been going on.” His voice was now a whisper; he had dropped the bone – and his nose nearly touched hers.

A moment later, he was leaning against his ship. In his hand a wooden pipe, roughly a foot in length, intricate patterns all across its surface. A click of his fingers lit the herbs in the cup, and a thin purple smoke snaked out.

“Have you lost Fae in this way?”