Blue tried to keep a straight-not-disgusted-by-muscles-knitting-together face as the lord or Duke or whatever he was healed her storyteller. She winced at the imagined chip on her shoulder that went with the shame of not being able to disguise herself properly. The crimson haired Elias was useful, at least, without much physical effort on his behalf. Fae magic was for mischief and hiding, it hurt that her abilities were all at the mischief end instead of balanced like the rest of her clan. She watched as her storyteller got himself comfortable after the majority of his healing, growing in anticipation. Story time perhaps?
"As for you, Miss fai- Blue, I suppose I do owe you a tale, then. My name, is Razzalorn Timmindale. At your service, so to speak. As for my story, well, it's quite a tale. It all began in my hometown, a small little place from close by..." Yes! It was story time at last, though his vocal slip made her slightly anxious, she saw no human in Razzalorn Timmindale so perhaps it was no harm done. He in no way looked human and was prepared to sit in her company. She couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he fed her with anecdotes and tales of his adventures. It was lovely to listen to him tell this grand story, despite the fact she couldn’t feel or feed off him in any other way. Blue relaxed as more wine kept coming and let herself enjoy this brief encounter. The universe had not given her what she ordered, but this was just as good, if not better.
She was aware of the horned girl and Elias still and Blue found herself reluctant to return to the forest. The Pilgrim had provided her with such interesting fare and plenty of laughter, it seemed a shame to let it all go. There was an itching in her feet that made her feel restless, she wanted to see where these people got to experience these things. Blue hadn’t had an adventure of her own in 70 years, and never had one that didn’t end in heartbreak. Was it time again to break free of her clan? Her face took on a thoughtful expression as she considered this, with a cheeky grin now and then to spare for her story teller, “I am sorry you were hurt, Mr Timmindale, but I am glad it was here you stumbled into. Thank you for sharing your tales with me.”