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<blockquote data-quote="jmucchiello" data-source="post: 7877144" data-attributes="member: 813"><p>At the bend of a river, on the inner curve of the banks, stood a three story tower maybe twenty feet wide. Attached to the tower was a large paddle wheel. Within the tower were two great big polished stones. One turned atop the other, grinding anything between them. The flour dust in the air was a big clue to their primary product. Wheat flour. For four generations, the Oldmill family provided the valley and a few places beyond with the finest grain of wheat flour.</p><p></p><p>A two room homestead stood not far from the mill. The residence of the mill's current owner Errol Oldmill, currently last of his line. He wasn't always last of his line. His son turned eighteen a few months ago. And on that date, his son was revealed to be not his son. Error knew Turvin was not his natural born son. But Turvin was no longer human. No longer a man either. Turvin was now Eovin, a faery, a pixie he's been told. She stands just under a foot tall.</p><p></p><p>This is her story.</p><p></p><p>While people of various ancestry live in the valley, no one would want to buy flour from fae folk. And while Eovin has rejected her fae nature, for the most part, she is still a fae when you see her. The two room homestead has recently become a two and a quarter room homestead. Among the rafters, between the two rooms, in a space that use to be home to a pair of squirrels, Eovin spent a lot of time brooding.</p><p></p><p>She was raised to learn the family mill business and now she had to find something else to do. Lately, seamstress seems possible. As she spent the first couple months sewing herself a wardrobe, building a bed and dresser, learning how to fashion tools from discarded objects that were too small for human hands to work with. Seamstress was no really her thing though. She could make clothing but human clothing shrunk down to her size was never meant to fly. She needs clothes that fit close to the body. So she learned how to work leather. She learned how to make leather a supple as baby skin. And how to sew it to fit her body. She even made herself a couple pairs of boots because even a small puddle felt like a lake to her sometimes.</p><p></p><p>She was finishing up the lacings on a bodice when there was knock at her tiny door. "Eve?" her mother called.</p><p></p><p>Her mother never tried to say her name right. Eovin is not Eve. If you were shortening it, you might say Eov. That would sound like <em>ee of</em>. Not <em>eve</em>. She lay the bodice down on the bed and opened the door to her loft. <strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Yes, Mom."</span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"We need to talk. Could you come to the kitchen?"</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Okay."</span></strong> She flew over her mother's head and flew to the dining area. Her father is sitting at the table as she arrives. He indicates her high stool and she flutters to a landing on it. The stool is maybe an inch or so shorter than the table so she can sit at the table.</p><p></p><p><strong>"I don't know if you seen the storms in the sky. That red color ain't natural,"</strong> Errol said. <strong>"But people are looking for ways to blame it on something."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Or someone. And I'm the scapegoat, I suppose."</span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"Not directly, dear,"</strong> Silma said.</p><p></p><p><strong>"No,"</strong> Errol said. <strong>"But they are blame the faeries. While no one says you are causing the storm itself, they believe the is centered here because you are here and the faeries want you. It's crazy. You remember Old Roark from Billiamstown? He was here the other day and he says the storm is centered over Billiamstown. Someone from Hartwood said the same thing."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"The problem, Eve,"</strong> Silma said, <strong>"is people aren't rational. They still think if you went away the skies would clear."</strong></p><p></p><p>The pronunciation of 'Eve' got Eovin's ire up and her words were more shrill than usual.<strong> <span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"So you want me to leave?"</span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"Never,"</strong> Silma said with horror in her eyes.</p><p></p><p><strong>"No, no,"</strong> Errol said at the same time.<strong> "But maybe for a few days, when they see the storm is still here and you aren't maybe they'll understand it has nothing to do with you."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Where would I go?"</span></strong></p><p></p><p>After a pause, Error said, <strong>"A caravan to Wallace is leaving later this afternoon. You could hitch a ride with them. They could not complain you take up too much space or would slow them down. Laynard is in charge of the caravan and I know he thinks the idea you're some kind of focal point for the red skies is bunk. So he shouldn't mind if you tag along."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Laynard is like a week away. Maybe longer by donkey."</span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"You wouldn't to go all the way to Laynard, You could stop in Meier's Grove and come right back," </strong>Errol said.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>Eovin looked around the room she had a feeling for the last time. Before the change, she had a room above the tool shack. She had moved into this literal hole in the wall a few months ago. It was small like she was, not a cavernous space like every other place she had been in ever since the change. </p><p></p><p>She had just finished making a hip bag -- her mother called it a purse -- and she was trying to stuff twelve gold pieces and five silver pieces into it. They barely fit. She could not wear a backpack so she had her extra clothes in a bandoleer of pouches. At the moment only the stuff she could not carry was left in the room. She turned away and flew out.</p><p></p><p>Mom and Dad were standing on the porch as she flew out the faery door Errol had made in the top of the door. She landed on Mom's shoulder and hugged the side of her face, kissing her cheek.</p><p></p><p><strong>"You be good,"</strong> Silma said gently patting Eovin on the arm.</p><p></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"I will."</span></strong> She flitted over to Dad and, after he nodded, repeated the face-hugging maneuver.</p><p></p><p><strong>"You come back, my dear."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"Of course."</span></strong></p><p></p><p>They waved to her as she flew to caravansary. Laynard was sitting on the lead wagon giving some last minute orders. When he spotted her approaching, he said, <strong>"Hello, little lady, I left a spot for you in the cart. I figured you'd like a high place."</strong> He pointed to the top of a stack of boxes. <strong>"That last box is empty. Should be quite cozy for ye."</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">"I hope I won't get in the way."</span></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>"I can't imagine you could. I just hope that sky doesn't open up while we're out. Who know what falls from red clouds."</strong></p><p></p><p>She landed near the box and it was bigger than her hole in the wall room. She dropped her bandoleer inside. When the cart first lerched forward it felt like an earthquake. But once the horses figured out their stride, the ride smoothed a bit. She sat on the top of the cart and watched the mill fade into the distance before turning around and watching where she was going.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jmucchiello, post: 7877144, member: 813"] At the bend of a river, on the inner curve of the banks, stood a three story tower maybe twenty feet wide. Attached to the tower was a large paddle wheel. Within the tower were two great big polished stones. One turned atop the other, grinding anything between them. The flour dust in the air was a big clue to their primary product. Wheat flour. For four generations, the Oldmill family provided the valley and a few places beyond with the finest grain of wheat flour. A two room homestead stood not far from the mill. The residence of the mill's current owner Errol Oldmill, currently last of his line. He wasn't always last of his line. His son turned eighteen a few months ago. And on that date, his son was revealed to be not his son. Error knew Turvin was not his natural born son. But Turvin was no longer human. No longer a man either. Turvin was now Eovin, a faery, a pixie he's been told. She stands just under a foot tall. This is her story. While people of various ancestry live in the valley, no one would want to buy flour from fae folk. And while Eovin has rejected her fae nature, for the most part, she is still a fae when you see her. The two room homestead has recently become a two and a quarter room homestead. Among the rafters, between the two rooms, in a space that use to be home to a pair of squirrels, Eovin spent a lot of time brooding. She was raised to learn the family mill business and now she had to find something else to do. Lately, seamstress seems possible. As she spent the first couple months sewing herself a wardrobe, building a bed and dresser, learning how to fashion tools from discarded objects that were too small for human hands to work with. Seamstress was no really her thing though. She could make clothing but human clothing shrunk down to her size was never meant to fly. She needs clothes that fit close to the body. So she learned how to work leather. She learned how to make leather a supple as baby skin. And how to sew it to fit her body. She even made herself a couple pairs of boots because even a small puddle felt like a lake to her sometimes. She was finishing up the lacings on a bodice when there was knock at her tiny door. "Eve?" her mother called. Her mother never tried to say her name right. Eovin is not Eve. If you were shortening it, you might say Eov. That would sound like [I]ee of[/I]. Not [I]eve[/I]. She lay the bodice down on the bed and opened the door to her loft. [B][COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Yes, Mom."[/COLOR] "We need to talk. Could you come to the kitchen?" [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Okay."[/COLOR][/B] She flew over her mother's head and flew to the dining area. Her father is sitting at the table as she arrives. He indicates her high stool and she flutters to a landing on it. The stool is maybe an inch or so shorter than the table so she can sit at the table. [B]"I don't know if you seen the storms in the sky. That red color ain't natural,"[/B] Errol said. [B]"But people are looking for ways to blame it on something." [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Or someone. And I'm the scapegoat, I suppose."[/COLOR] "Not directly, dear,"[/B] Silma said. [B]"No,"[/B] Errol said. [B]"But they are blame the faeries. While no one says you are causing the storm itself, they believe the is centered here because you are here and the faeries want you. It's crazy. You remember Old Roark from Billiamstown? He was here the other day and he says the storm is centered over Billiamstown. Someone from Hartwood said the same thing." "The problem, Eve,"[/B] Silma said, [B]"is people aren't rational. They still think if you went away the skies would clear."[/B] The pronunciation of 'Eve' got Eovin's ire up and her words were more shrill than usual.[B] [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"So you want me to leave?"[/COLOR] "Never,"[/B] Silma said with horror in her eyes. [B]"No, no,"[/B] Errol said at the same time.[B] "But maybe for a few days, when they see the storm is still here and you aren't maybe they'll understand it has nothing to do with you." [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Where would I go?"[/COLOR][/B] After a pause, Error said, [B]"A caravan to Wallace is leaving later this afternoon. You could hitch a ride with them. They could not complain you take up too much space or would slow them down. Laynard is in charge of the caravan and I know he thinks the idea you're some kind of focal point for the red skies is bunk. So he shouldn't mind if you tag along." [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Laynard is like a week away. Maybe longer by donkey."[/COLOR] "You wouldn't to go all the way to Laynard, You could stop in Meier's Grove and come right back," [/B]Errol said. * * * Eovin looked around the room she had a feeling for the last time. Before the change, she had a room above the tool shack. She had moved into this literal hole in the wall a few months ago. It was small like she was, not a cavernous space like every other place she had been in ever since the change. She had just finished making a hip bag -- her mother called it a purse -- and she was trying to stuff twelve gold pieces and five silver pieces into it. They barely fit. She could not wear a backpack so she had her extra clothes in a bandoleer of pouches. At the moment only the stuff she could not carry was left in the room. She turned away and flew out. Mom and Dad were standing on the porch as she flew out the faery door Errol had made in the top of the door. She landed on Mom's shoulder and hugged the side of her face, kissing her cheek. [B]"You be good,"[/B] Silma said gently patting Eovin on the arm. [B][COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"I will."[/COLOR][/B] She flitted over to Dad and, after he nodded, repeated the face-hugging maneuver. [B]"You come back, my dear." [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"Of course."[/COLOR][/B] They waved to her as she flew to caravansary. Laynard was sitting on the lead wagon giving some last minute orders. When he spotted her approaching, he said, [B]"Hello, little lady, I left a spot for you in the cart. I figured you'd like a high place."[/B] He pointed to the top of a stack of boxes. [B]"That last box is empty. Should be quite cozy for ye." [COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]"I hope I won't get in the way."[/COLOR] "I can't imagine you could. I just hope that sky doesn't open up while we're out. Who know what falls from red clouds."[/B] She landed near the box and it was bigger than her hole in the wall room. She dropped her bandoleer inside. When the cart first lerched forward it felt like an earthquake. But once the horses figured out their stride, the ride smoothed a bit. She sat on the top of the cart and watched the mill fade into the distance before turning around and watching where she was going. [/QUOTE]
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