“I am Díograsach! ” A deep rasping voice echoed out from the small storage cupboard. “Born in a lightning storm! Master of the dark arts! King of-!”

“Yeah, yeah. Thats nice, Colin,” Maeve interupted him as she walked straight into the cupboard to search for what she wanted.

“Foolish mortal! You dare insult the great Díograsach with banal names?!” The voice revealed himself to be a 4 foot tall thing, appearing to be human but not at the same time. He had bluish grey skin, half of it covered in grey sheep like wool save for his upper body and arms. Where his eyes and nose should’ve been were just large cavities of nothingness. His skin was half falling off and he had swollen lips with a lower jaw that hung slightly open all the time.

“Faerie,” Maeve corrected him absently. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my journals from circa 1246 to 1256 are, would you?”

“Third shelf down, under a stuffed bullfrog. Careful, he bites,” Díograsach finally said, voice exasperated, tired and matter of fact at the same time.

“Thanks.”