The Wandering Whale

A low-pitched whine could be heard outside as a D77 troop carrier touched down on the grass beside the tavern.

The noise grew quiet as the craft powered down, and shortly thereafter a bright yellow pegasus with a shiny crimson mane pushed through the door. Her white jumpsuit and cheerful expression--on that note, every ounce of her being--seemed to sharply contrast the appearance of the establishment.

The cheerful Pegasus mare known as Yellow Light approached the bar and took a seat. After looking around at the options for a few seconds, she was about to make an order when she noticed that the barkeep was otherwise preoccupied. Not being in the slightest bit rushed, Yellow Light elected to keep quiet and wait for a more opportune moment while she looked around and admired the architecture of the tavern.

The cloaked figure seemed to shimmer slightly, as the Magus turned and smiled at the newcomer.

"Merry meet, fellow traveler," she greeted Yellow Light, her face that of an androgynous pony young and beautiful, but with eyes older than the stars.

The wanderer smiled kindly, and bowed as well. "An honor to meet you, Ms. Light. I am called the Wandering Magus, but you may call me Magus, if you wish. May I call you Yellow?"

-----

Outside, what seemed like a young human lad, perhaps of 18 years or so, but with pointed ears and leaf-green and green-brown thumbs and eyes, came skipping up to the tavern. Barefoot and wearing only clothing made of cotton, linen and other plant-based materials, the strange boy was seemingly surrounded by all manner of animals that followed him wherever he went, and grass and flowers sprang up in his footsteps.

Alfonso of the Green Thumb he was, half-Fay and grandson of the Wise-Woman of the Woods, Baba Yaga. His father was the Alchemist Cagliostro, and his mother a half-Fay of the Enchanted Woods. Though mortal children teased him and taunted him and called him Fay, the Faeries accepted him as one of their own, and oft did he go into those lands, where time is strange and a single day may bring a thousand years.

Now came he here, to the tavern where many worlds intersect. Little did he carry of worth to mortal kind, for even the golden coins of Faerie turned to yellow flowers in the realms of mortals, and the cold metal that Men traded was of naught to the Fae.

Yet he cared not, and it seemed to many that this lad, springing as from a tale, was more than what he seemed.

Thus did he enter the door of the inn, striding to the bar with a merry grin on his face.

"Merry meet, an' a jolly good day ta th' both o'ye, miladies," said he, a-hopping onto a stool with the grace of a gazelle.

"Merry meet indeed!" chuckled the Wanderer, turning to him. "Long has it been since we last met, is that not so, Alfonso Green-Thumb?"

The lad beamed at the mention of his name. "So ye remembers me name, fair Wandering Magus, Eldest of Strangers Kind. Glad am I to hear of it! And who be this merry young lass by thine side, milady? She seemeth a character from out of those tales of metal ships that sail the stars; ach, but who am I to say?"

He hopped down and bowed deeply to Yellow Light. "Merry meet, milady! Alfonso Cagliostro of the Green Thumb am I called, son of the alchemist Lord Cagliostro, and grandson of the Wise-Woman, Baba Yaga of the Woods. Might ye be so kind as to grace this poor lad with thine good name?"

Alfonso grinned and bowed once more, before flipping back onto his stool with catlike tread. "A pleasure it be ta make thine acquaintance, fair lady Light! A pilot ye be? A sailor of no little skill, I deem! A sailor of stars, as the tales tell of it, perhaps? What sort o' lads an' lasses be th' gentry o' thine world? Believe them still in faeries olde, or boggarts an' brownies an' banshees?"

Wanderer sighed and shook her head. "Alfonso, you know the many worlds have legends of their own, and the faith of mortals in that which has not been seen for many a year dwindles and wanes to naught in time, short though that time may seem to you or I."

The Barista quickly provide the requested pint of ale "Here you go, the food will be ready momentarily. Would the two of you like anything?" looking at the two that had joined.

Alfonso grinned, bowing deeply to the barista. "A pint of mead, if you will! Ah, what tales indeed have we to tell, be it not so, milady Magus?"

The Wanderer chuckled, shaking her head. "Tales to dazzle the mortal mind indeed, Alfonso, but as for myself, verily 'tis naught which she would understand. Perchance you might grace us with a tale? And thank you," she nodded to the barista, taking the mug and sipping politely.

The lad tapped his chin with a green thumb in thought, then smiled mischievously. "Aye, I might, and as all tales, 'tis true indeed. For a fae speaketh not falsehoods, and neither does he tell tall tales. 'Tis the curse and blessing of our kind, it is. Now gather round me, lasses, an' I'll tell a tale to rouse thine hearts!"

He giggled as he flipped off the stool and did a handstand on the floor before spinning about and sitting comfortably poised on a flower that seemed to have sprung from nowhere, and it seemed he was made of air, for though he must have weighed near as much as any strong lad, the flower was not bent, nor indeed was it even affected as he sat upon it.

"Where shall I begin? Once upon a time it was, in that which mortals call the Enchanted Woods. A place of wild magic, fae and strange, a place that lived and breathed and thought! By no hand of man was it tamed, for the Woods would have no master, but permitted the Forest Gentry which dwelt there to call it home. A fair lass there was, fae as fae can be, fair as the moonlight on midsummer's eve, fair as the harvest in the falling of the leaves, fair as the ocean and the snow and the spring! None know her name now, not even I, for cunning she was, and knew she that Names have Power. Yea, very cunning! She knew what path a man would take to die afore his grandfather was born! And she knew which bear would eat the fruits of the tree which springs from a single seed. Aye, as cunning as cunning can be, wise as a wolf, witty as a fox, and strong-willed as a lioness in the summer of her might. Yet one weakness had she, which set her apart from many another- she longed for love, to love and be loved."