Exton

He must have slept. Opening his eyes, Twillon smiles. Weebit's hair is tousled, her blanket wrapped around her body, enhancing every curve. The dragon still curls close by, tailtip flicking in its sleep. A knock startles her awake and Twill lays a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. Weebit closes her eyes and lies still. He watches her ears flick, moving to better catch the noises.

The dragon's eyes drift open, tailtip twitching slowly. It watches Twillon rise and answer the door. A servant hands him a small package. "From the demifae."

Twillon lays it on the dresser and opens the package slowly. A small brush and comb lie on top of slacks and a split back tunic in deep green and gold. Leaving the package open, Twill offers her his hand and she drops the blanket to step on his palm. He carries her to the clothing, setting her down carefully. The dragon lands on the table, sniffing at the bundle. It sneezes delicately and settles down to watch. Weebit smiles, showing Twill another outfit below the first.

She holds up the dress and frowns. The fabric was so sheer, you could see through it. A pair of tights goes with it.. She lays that aside, shaking her head. Going back to the green slacks, Weebit pulls them on, then tugs the tunic carefully over her head. She carefully fans her damaged wings, making sure they weren't caught.

When she looks up, there are tears in her big dark eyes.

"Twill? I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go..." her hand flutters and the dragon inches close, nudging her. She buries her face in its soft mane.

He strokes her hair gently with a fingertip. "Talk to me, Honey Girl."

"I don't belong here."

"You belong anywhere you want to belong."

She shakes her head, rubbing at her face.

"They are all too perfect. They are all too nice. I don't deserve these things."

Twill rests his chin on his hands, watching her. When she finally looks at him again, Twill smiles. "You have never had the things other demifae take for granted. This is not charity, sweet one. This is generosity. Your kind are what is called Trooping Faeries. They share what they have with each other. Much as the demifae that are stationed at the Tavern have done, these fae have given what they could." he grins at her. "Besides, I think the one who helped you with Tork thought you were pretty... I bet he is the one that gave you the sexy dress."

Weebit's mouth dropped open and she whirled away, hands covering her face.

"Why don't we go see the Healers? We can go after that if you want. I will have someone see if Inari is returning or staying."

Weebit nods and Twill dresses, then summons a servant. The fae bows deeply running off to find the ambassador. Weebit talks softly to the dragon and it curls up on Twill's pack. Weebit taps her foot, waiting.

When he helps her settle in her customary place, they head out. Tork watches until they leave, then closes his eyes. Nyr is just finishing up some letters and offers to lead them to the Healers.

They spend several hours with the Healers. The beautiful panes of her wings are long gone, melted by the acidlike poison. The smaller veins of her wings are twisted, making her wings look more like twisted branches then graceful archs, The outcome of the visit is an offer of grafts. A long painful process with no guarantee of helping. She tells them she will think about it, even though they stress over and over that the grafts need to be started immediately. They get her to at least accept a packet of pain medicine.

As they leave Weebit confides to Twill that she has lived with the pain for many years. It only burns when she tries to change size. At Twill's raised eyebrow, she blushes. Nyr stifles a laugh and turns to talk to the servant who approaches.

"The Ambassador is also returning to the Human Realm. She is arranging some things and can meet you in the stables."

Nyr accompanies Twillon and Weebit in collecting their things. Tork waits patiently as Weebit saddles him. When she buckles in, Tork looks back, making sure she is secure. He looks at Twillon and the Dark Lord looks over the straps. Tork bobs his head when Twill says all is well. The dragon jumps off the table, lifting into the air and soars to the stables, Twill and Nyr in their wake.

Inari is going over her tack when the trio enter. She is talking to a tall redhead. It takes a moment for Twillon to place the race. Wyldfae. He bows to the women and begins to saddle his own mounts, refusing a stable boy's offer. His mount sniffs at the dragon. The dragon returns the favor, Both snort. Twillon smiles as he tosses his cloak over his shoulders.

Nyr clasps Twillon's hand. "Ride safe Rah'. May the Dark Goddess keep you safe." he bows to Inari and her friend. "Maestras, Easy roads beneath your feet and pleasant companions by your side."

He grins at Weebit. "Come back to see me again. And bring that big lug with you."

Weebit nods. "I will keep him safe for you, Lord Nyr."

The Sidhe Lord laughs and leaves the stable.