An origin story for Ava au Nieva - an Aasimar Warlock of the Archfey patron.
When her celestial-blessing is mistaken for a curse, Ava is exiled to the Northwoods, where she is found and raised by an eccentric weaver. As she grows and discovers late...
On her way home, Ava feels a little colder, a little lighter. A little brighter. Paco is still waiting for her at the edge of the ravine and becomes ferocious upon seeing her reappear. Ava, much more easily now, summons her celestial wings and flies back across the rift. She nimbly dodges Paco's angry nips at her ankles as she makes her way through the familiar forest. She is energized by her new purpose, her new mission. Guardian.
She arrives back to Mama Raz's hut well after dark, but Mama is still up clattering away at her loom while cookware magically clangs around the kitchen.
"Ah, Mara Dearie, there you are! You gave Paco such a fright! But not to worry, I'm nearly done with your new pockets."
"Oh, hi, Mama! Yes, it's me, Ava. What's this about pockets?"
"Yes yes, Ava Dearie, of course it's you. Pockets for your upcoming travels!" Razalina peers excitedly over her thick spectacles, but then scrunches her brows. "You have some dirt on your face," Mama says, ducking back to her loom. "Clean up so I can sew these on."
Ava turns to an old mirror on the wall and upon seeing her own reflection, her breath catches. While her right eye remains the same inky black as always, the iris in her left eye has drained, leaving behind a striking ring of glacial blue. An oily smudge darkens her left cheek. Slowly, she raises her fingers to her face and some sort of instinctual energy springs from her fingertips to clean the smudge away. It's almost as if something - someone? - else peers back at her through her blue-eyed reflection. Her heart tingles with the sensation of a knowing smile before the energy inside her calms, collecting into a still pool. Patient. Ready.
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"Alright, now come over here," Mama says across the room. Ava turns from the mirror to catch Mama peeling a piece of fabric off her loom and nabbing a few others from a pile of clutter.
"What's this for?" Ava asks, as Mama begins brushing the snow off her blue travel cloak. When she finds a smattering of brambles also caught in the cloak, Mama tsks and instead summons a whoosh of air that instantly cleans them all away in a vigorous flap.
"Oh, just a little something to keep you going while carrying out your duties, Dearie." Satisfied the cloak is clean, Mama Raz begins holding up the fabrics to the cloak's inside lining. She motions for Ava to hold out her arms while she rummages through the folds. "It's nothing much. Really." Mama Raz finally finds a spot she likes and with a quick zip of arcane energy, a royal purple pocket is seamlessly mended into the fabric of the cloak. "This one is a Pie Pocket!"
Mama's bespectacled gaze finally meets Ava's mismatched eyes up close, flitting between the black saucer and the blue ring. She reaches up to touch Ava's cheek. "Oh, how I will miss your pretty eyes, Dearie," she says warmly. Mama seems to peer into her newly blue eye a moment longer, squinting slightly, as if in silent warning. "But as I was saying," she continues, holding up another piece of fabric to the inner cloak. "The Pie Pocket is enchanted so that you can always dip in a spoon and scoop out a bite of pie!"
"It's a pocket... for pie?" Ava asks as Mama continues to bumble about the folds.
"Why yes, Dearie. And each spoonful will always be fresh and warm, just like when we make them together."
"Endless pie... " Ava ponders, tracing her fingers over the purple fabric. From a certain angle of light Ava can see it has a bit of texture, like many small overlapping circles.
"Ah, and this one," Mama says, once again weaving her mending magic, "is a pocket of Moon Spoons." A satiny silver pouch intertwines with Ava's cloak. "Whenever the spoon tide is in, up to seven spoons will appear - right here in this pocket!" Mama slips her fingers past the edge of the shimmering fabric and pulls out a silver spoon. "I wove in some special threads so every spoon you put in there will come out clean!" She pushes the spoon towards Ava's face, showing her her own distorted reflection in its polished surface.
"What would I do with seven spoons?" Ava chuckles, also reaching into the silver pocket and pulling out another piece of silverware.
"Share pie with new friends, of course!" Mama eagerly dips her spoon into the purple pocket and carefully draws forth a steaming crumble of berries speckled with flaky crust. "Mmm, mistberry," she croons as she sniffs the spoonful. "Your favorite." Mama gives her a crinkled wink as Ava dips her spoon into the purple pocket as well. Another mouthful of pie emerges. "But be careful with your spoons, Dearie," and Mama Raz looks up at Ava, a touch serious. "The spoon tide only comes on the New Moon, so they won't regenerate until then."
Ava laughs softly, looking down at Mama's hunched frame, draped in her usual colorfully patched cloak. Mama smiles then, wrinkled and toothy and bright. But her smile wavers a bit, beginning to tremble at the corners. As if Mama was holding back tears.
"The winds have arrived, Dearie." Mama tries to smile wider but only succeeds in squinting more. As her cheeks squeeze her eyes, the tears finally fall. "It's time for you to ride them."
"You know?" Ava whispers.
"Of course, Dearie. Those pesky Fey never give me enough time with you," Mama sighs, "and trying to keep Mara away only makes everything worse." Her voice softens to a breath. "I know you can only stay so long, but Stars, you are worth the wait every time."
Razalina's throat bobs, but before Ava can reply, Mama's voice jumps back to normal volume, announcing "and so is this pie!" She shoves the spoon into her mouth, eye glistening slightly as she motions for Ava to do the same. The mistberry mouthful is indeed still fresh, filling her with a comforting warmth.
Mama reaches up to return the spoon to the silver pocket where it softly clinks among the other five spoons. Ava returns her spoon as well, and sure enough, as it crosses the pocket threshold, it appears to have been cleaned.
After a moment, Ava returns her gaze to Mama Raz. "Will you be alright, Mama?" she asks, remembering Storm Days and worrying about who will be there to light Mama's oven when she forgets.
"I always am, Dearie." Mama smiles with a touch of sadness and reaches to clasp Ava's hand. "I always am."
"I'll miss you, Mama," Ava says at last, wrapping her in a hug.
