Gonna be there in an hour...

[crimson_fade]

 

The rough tendrils of bark snaked around the cocoons of the Fey as they slept in their downy seeds. The sprouts usually ignored them, until the sunshine began dribbling inside their earthen shells, calling out to their powers.

 

At the Vernal Equinox, the Fey began stirring restlessly, vibrating with impatience and hunger. In the field, the sprouts murmured, their anxiety uncoiling from their roots and shaking their glossy leaves.

 

There came an ethereal song; first one voice, then two, then many more. Their delicate choir made the air quiver, and the hatchlings broke out of their cocoons, giggling and laughing. The melody faded as their broken shells crumbled into the ground. The Fey shook the glitter from their silvery skins, and spread their silky wings, all with large, sharp smiles.

 

One newborn maiden was plucking feathers from her feet, and the second was combing her long fingers through her shining hair. The third was fluttering her wings, laughing as they sparkled and glittered in the sun.

 

The sprouts had fallen silent, watching and waiting for the Fey to notice them. One lone sprout, who stood closest to the Fey, trembled as their energies swam in the air around him. He shivered as their laughter echoed in his ears, and twitched as he felt delicate hands caress his leaves.

 

The other sprouts watched him as pale blue lips touched his limbs, drawing chlorophyll from his veins. He withered, and the Fey held him close, stroking his crumbling skin as he died.

 

The sprouts began to hum a soft, mournful tune of sighs and sobs, until the three Fey turned upon them.

 

When the field was littered with glittering brown dust, the Fey rose and fluttered into sky. Below them, dark green seedlings burst from the ashes of the Sprouts, mewling as the sunlight struck their raw faces.