Come to find out, this a new kind of fae. Magic, it seems, can sometimes spontaneously poof life into existence when there's a sudden buildup, like this youngster. Choosing a name was one thing, but learning how to care for them was another. There was going to be a learning curve for both. First, clothes, then, food, maybe? This very young one was going to be their foundling, but they were also going to be quite an education.
@internutter/challenge-04592-l208-theyre-brand-new -- Anon Guest
Magic never entirely wanes, only the belief in it does. When it builds up, that's when odd things can happen. Case in point, the butterfly-winged creature that manifested in Barthus' workshop. Fully-formed, curious, and able to ask complicated questions.
Questions like, "Why do I need clothes?"
Barthus, doing their best with spare cloth and thread, said, "Folks prefer it that way. Civilised, intelligent creatures wear clothes. It's how folks can tell. You're an intelligent creature, and I hope to help you become civilised... or more so. And if we're going to the library, we're headed deeper into civilisation, so you need clothing."
It was a sort of long shirt that reached the creature's knees. Open at the back for their wings, and tied up at the nape of their neck to stop it falling off. Barthus stretched their abilities to make a tiny pair of sandals for the creature's delicate, pale feet. No bigger than Barthus' thumbprint.
"That'll do for now. I know I ain't skilled with cloth. All those wanting me to have a housemate should be eager to help you get some proper gear. At least I can keep you in shoes. They're all eager to make clothes for the youngins. The new ones. And you're new as Autumn snows." He fixed them on. "They should be eager to help. I hope they are."
The winged stranger lit on Barthus' pack for the walk to town, and didn't weigh very much extra. Barthus explained pronouns, and how some folks were he or she, and others didn't care much to be either. Some preferred to go the Elven way and be ze, and others just left it at being 'they'.
"Until someone corrects you, it's good manners to call folk 'they'. Do you feel different about being 'they' for the while?" It was polite to ask, and this creature might be Fae. It paid to be polite with Fae.
"I don't think I care, yet," decided the creature.
Barthus nodded to some local gossips as if carrying a new Faekindred on their back was as normal as sunshine. They smirked as the ladies' chatter stopped cold so they could gawk.
May their tongues stay clotted the rest of the week.
Barthus found the town hall and went straight for the attached library, not giving much attention to who stared. A couple of kids followed to gawk, as kids would. They were allowed to stare at anything new, and ask questions that older folk would consider rude.
"Is that a baby?" the kids asked in a rush. "Is that a Faerie?" Another asked, "Why's their clothes all yuck?" as three said, "Did you make those shoes?" One said, "They're pretty."
"They're not a baby," said Barthus, "but they are new to the world and need to learn a few things. Including what their name is."
"I think I'd like you to pick my name," said the creature.
Barthus went alphabetical, testing the words for the way they sounded and what they meant. He found one he liked the best... "Makana. It's a name meaning 'gift' from the tropical islands in the wide ocean."
Makana grinned. "I like it. So. You named me. You fed me. You taught me. You clothed me. Does that make you my parent now?"
"I suppose you are. Ready to be my prentice?"
"I suppose I am," chirped Makana.
Unfortunately, the local busybodies still wouldn't leave Barthus alone despite the fact that they had a prentice. Mostly because they got it in the way they didn't like.
[Photo by David Clode on Unsplash]
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