MQ March 1 - Forest Totems

Rarely did Marie venture out of the deep, dense forest she called home. However, news of the Aether holiday was enough to pull the witch from the comfortable darkness of rich earth and bubbling streams. The thought of seeing others was the only fear she still held as she carefully picked her way through the large, arcing tree roots. The anxiety of facing crowds gathered together to honor her favorite lord made her heart hammer in her chest, and the fine hairs on her back stood at attention like a dog would raise its hackles. Still she pressed on because there was no challenge unsurmountable, even in her own mind.

Rather strangely, she didn’t even have to leave her forest to run straight into the oddest sight. Marie thought she knew every corner of this place, but apparently not. A cart was sitting in the middle of her woods with all sorts of things hanging off of it like a weird buffet. Pelts of all sorts of shapes and color - certainly not of this world - were draped over railings. Totems, icons and other knick knacks were on shelves in the most disorganized way and she wanted nothing more than to get in there and all of the things in disarray. There was even a sign touting that it was Troubador’s Trinkets - that if the stall wasn’t there, then it wasn’t a holiday. It was rather cute. Did that mean it was here every holiday?

Just as she was about to move her whiskered muzzle to push a few items into more reasonable places, she caught sight of a forest-covered ballator. She was envious of his obvious connection with nature and cleared her throat to get his attention. The stallion rolled over like a canine and she lifted a single brow - that was conveniently accented by her calva markings. Puck introduced himself and told her that it was up to the highlords to give her a prize. She knew better than to expect that they’d actually show up. Perhaps their magic would give her an item - or maybe it was just a peddler’s trick. Marie hummed curiously and looked down at him, smiling kindly. “Okay, Puck,” she said in her matter-of-fact but sing-song voice. “Let’s hope that the highlords favor me today, hm?”

He seemed bored and far more interested in the comfortable piles of furs on which he was lounging around. She approached him, tilting her head to the side as she studied the rich brown of his fur and the golden freckles like sunlight kisses. “Surely manning this stall is not so boring?” Marie was a stranger to Puck, his mania, and the battle of the highlords. She was too young to remember such things even though the soul she possessed was old.

“You try pandering to the masses for the Highlords,” he replied, rolling back onto his side and giving her a curious look. “I want this. I want that. I demand this. Blah. Blah. Blah. It gets old.” As if he knew she was younger, he patiently looked her way and awaited her answer. He was reserving judgment until she proved to be more than just another face in a nameless crowd.

Marie nodded in understanding. “That must be difficult,” she said. The steppe lady looked over all the items on the cart. “But, I do not know what any of these things are, and I do not know the Highlords - just rumors of their teachings. So…” she trailed. “I would appreciate your knowledge, advice and your gift - no matter what it is.” Pretty, purple eyes looked his way with open gentleness, a rare gift in such a warring species.

Puck, if he was surprised, didn’t show it, but at least he stood from where he was resting to come to her side and look over all the shiny trinkets. “Keep your eyes and ears open,” he offered some obscure advice. “Things are never, ever what they seem, so keep your wits about you. A blind devotee is just a fanatic. And fanatics are lunatics.” The green haired ballator then grinned and plucked an item off the shelf with magic, giving her a small, Aether-shaped trinket.

He hung the item off of one of her curved, lavender horns. She saw it out of her periphery as it swung around her ear. Marie smiled. It was simple, unnecessary and without purpose. Normally such items would be recycled, but the oddity of this whole situation was summed up in it hanging on her horn. Perhaps this would be one thing she would allow to exist in her space without reasoning. Purposeless things lead to clutter and disorganization, but some disorder could also be useful. The stars themselves were nothing but randomness and energy, and this totem seemed comparable in a small and much more benign way.

Puck seemed satisfied with the exchange and nodded to himself before wandering back to his furs. He threw himself down upon them with all the drama and grandiose behavior of a travelling bard. She chuckled and he merely cracked an eye open at her, sighing heavily. “Begone! You got your item,” he said and then stretched out. Marie continued to chuckle and nodded. She swished her lion’s tail around her legs as she turned. The steppe lady was not offended by his behavior. He was funny and different, and she couldn’t hold that against him even if it came off as rude.

“I’ll leave you to your rest then,” she said. “Good day, Puck. And thank you for your assistance with the Highlords.” Marie knew better already than to wait for a response. He was done, and she was awash with excitement over all she learned today. Her world had expanded from her witch’s home by the river to a vast universe of strange ballators and palpable Highlords. The journey home somehow seemed longer now that she knew more, and Puck was still on her mind. What even was he? There was none like him, of that she was sure. Perhaps he was also a highlord? Or maybe he was just uniquely blessed...or cursed? To run a cart on holidays?

So many questions… Only the future could give her answers.