apricate; enhypen imagines

kim sunoo - fascinate me

tw: none???

2834 words

- linden

For as long as you can remember, the back wall of your closet has been a secret doorway to a place of magic. As a little kid, your visits there were often at night when you should have been sleeping. Your regular memories are interspersed by playing with unicorns in the stables and watching Forest Elves grow pink and purple blossoms in a few seconds. Since you were tall enough to reach the countertop with a stool, you've been helping around in the Common Elf-owned bakery that your closet wall opens up into. Sometimes elves would come just to observe you. A plain human person, fascinating to them. Shorter than the average elf, rounded ears, less acute hearing and sense of smell, not an ounce of magic emanating from you. Even a Common Elf can find a way to manipulate the world around them, move a chair across the room with a flick of their fingers.

To enter the magic world, a kingdom known as Penina, you place both hands on the back wall of your closet. The wall slowly melts away, you step in, and then out through a small door about the height of your legs when you're fully standing. The door opens into a back room of the bakery where the elves store rising dough. You grab an apron from the hook on the wall beside the door and tie it around your waist. "Baylea I'm here!" You call. A small elf, around 5'6 or 5'7 peeks around a corner and grins at you. Her hair is pitch black and her skin flaxen brown, her nose upturned like a bat's. The smooth skin of her hands warps into small black claws that she files down from time to time for safety.

She squeals, a high pitched echoey sound, and runs to hug you. The tiny dud wings sprouting from her shoulders flap with excitement. Baylea's not a Common Elf, but a Night Elf, born with the impaired characteristics of a bat. You've known other Night Elves, born with the characteristics of a cat or raven who can employ those characteristics to jump unimaginable heights, land always on their feet, and even fly. Baylea would have been a magnificent flier if not for her wings, but you both know she's more content with you and the Common Elves in the bakery.

Next to greet you is the Common Elf Reya, owner of the bakery and a second father to you of sorts. His greeting is more of an acknowledgement that you're there. He waves in passing and calls as he moves down the hall, "Take orders for me at the front, okay? Baylea, check the pastries in the oven."

"Okay!" You both chime. You release your friend and scurry off to uptake your tasks. Waiting already at the counter when you arrive is a green toned Nature Elf. She must be the oldest elf in this town, her eyes circled by spools of wrinkles and her mouth creased by smile lines. Elves don't usually show age past their prime until around three or four hundred years, the average elven lifespan being around eight to nine hundred. She exclaims your name the moment she sees you and clasps her hands around yours. "I assume you haven't heard!" She gasps. "The prince has come to visit! I recommended your bakery when I dropped my bread and he helped me up!" She titters like a school girl.

You raise your eyebrows. "You've dropped your bread!?"

"Oh but it's all worth it!" She grins. "He's around your age."

You stare at her for a moment. Your age could imply quite literally your age- or one hundred years old.

"Well, Fauna Sage-"

"No, no, dear. No worries. He is your age, not thirty, not fifty. I promise."

"And this is significant, why?"

"Well, even Baylea's got a girlfriend and you don't seem to have any promising prospects as far as I know!"

You bark out a laugh. "Fauna Sage, he is a prince, I am human. You know what the nobles think of humans." You sigh slightly, "Would you like new bread?"