A Series of Disorganized Events (Part 3)

Díograsach

squinted suspiciously at the old doll house that was big enough to take up the entirety of a single table. They’d had it for years, though Maeve had never sold it. Not because no one wanted it but because she always said it wasn’t for sale. She never gave a reason why and he never asked.

However, the voices coming from said doll house probably meant he should have asked why she never sold the ugly looking thing.

“I think there’s someone in the doll house,” he told her when she walked out from the storage cupboard. He was mildly worried when he saw her face light up, that was never good.

“There’s only a few people I know who like that thing,” she said as she walked over to the doll house and opened it up.

Inside, spread throughout the house much like dolls would’ve been had there been any there, were several 6 inch men. They all had ginger hair and beards, and were dressed in tartan kilts.

Upon looking up at the faerie, a gruff chorus of welcomes rang out.

“Bin a while, hasnae it, bonnie Maeve?” A man with several braids in his beard said, walking up to her.

“Indeed it has, Hamish,” the green haired girl agreed, smiling down at him.

A Series of Disorganized Events (Part 2)

The sun had barely begun to rise when Maeve got up. She aimed a kick at the back of

Díograsach as she walked past him, causing the demon to awake with a start and swear, though he didn’t complain seeing as it was a normal part of their morning.

By the time the short demon had stretched, stood up, changed his clothes and brushed his teeth, Maeve had finished making tea for the pair of them.

Díograsach walked into the kitchen, and promptly paused.

She was stirring the milk into his tea with a butter knife.

“What the hell?”

“I couldnt find a spoon,” Maeve explained, causing

Díograsach to groan and walk over to the cutlery draw. He didn’t even look down as he pulled out a teaspoon on his first try.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, you stupid fae,”

Díograsach said, smirking slightly at his roommate’s annoyed huff.

All in all, it was a perfectly normal morning.

Early Morning Shenanigans

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Put me down!”

Díograsach shouted as he squirmed and tried to get out of Maeve’s hold, something that probably wasn’t smart because if he did somehow manage to get free, he would fall 5 feet down. But hey, no one would ever accuse

Díograsach of being intelligent.

The faerie laughed lazily at the short demon, holding him up by his legs as she fluttered around the area outside her shop. “Stop messing with my organization and maybe I will.”

“What organization? You’re the single most disorganized person I’ve ever met!”

The tree was a tall one, though in a forest full of trees that usually grew to be about 80 feet tall, that wasn’t extraordinary. The fact the tree was wide enough to fit a shire horse inside was. Hanging from the branches were several wind chimes, some clumsily made from shells, some crafted from the most beautiful glass beads, others were made from strips of metal. Connecting the tree to the surrounding ones were garlands of purple and pink and yellow flowers woven by skilled hands.

A green door sat at the base of the tree, covering an opening carved into the wood. Inside was a single room. Pressed up against the wall, opposite the door and underneath a carved out window, was a simple platform bed, made of oak wood with a mattress stuffed with sheep wool and a quilt made out of colorful squares stitched together. Spread out across the center of the room was a mossy green rug. Positioned at an angle, there was a large chest of drawers tucked into the right side of the small home. Vases and other glass pieces were spread out over the top, along with a small collection of handmade bead necklaces. Plates and cups were stacked on a shelf that hung beside the door.

In the small clearing outside the tree house, there was a place where a fire was clearly meant to be lit. Lying on a small log was a pan flute, there was also a small satchel of herbs leaning against it. To the west of the clearing, there was a small garden filled with carrots and potatoes, along with an apple tree. The sound of a running stream not far away meant that there was both a source of water and a source of fish for the owner of the home.

At the end of the street, there was a shop. Small on the outside, bigger on the inside. A sign hung above the door and read “Junk and Disorderly.” The walls outside were a rustic brick covered in ivy. The path leading to the door was dotted with carpet moss growing between flagstones. Inside were walls painted a dark forest green, heavy dark mahogany shelves laden with curiosities like misshapen crystals, stuffed animals that seemed to blink or other wise move once in a while, and snow globes where the scenes inside played out in a seemingly endless loop. Stacks of old books lurked in the corners of the room and masquerade masks were spread out over 2 antique wooden side tables. The dull glass eyes of a nine point buck stared in judgement of all who lingered by both the antique cash register and the multiple end tables covered with various collections of jewelry. Behind the counter, there hung an old pendulum clock, the hands frozen at 3 o’clock.

“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.”