Talos and Cyrus

Chapter 22 - Wimbi and his Twigas

Almasi came and went, uttering not a single word as she set a pale white shirt and black trousers onto his bed. Cyrus thanked her, although he knew she couldn't hear him. She smiled at him, her cloudy eyes shimmering as she departed from his room, closing the door behind her gently. The musky smell had gone. Cyrus quickly changed into his new clothes, savoring the feeling of having fresh cotton against his skin. The shirt was so soft and was most definitely the most luxurious thing he had ever worn. It hung loosely from his body and the sleeves stopped short at his elbows. A black string was laced in the front and he tied it into a small bow. The last time Cyrus had gotten a new shirt was three years ago. Even then, it was worn and used; it had been his father's. He felt overwhelmed by the faerie's charitability, he just wished Talos would heal sooner to see their magnificence.

After taking a short and much needed nap on his bed, Cyrus stretched his sore muscles to the point where they protested in pain and he stood up. He had had enough of the small room, no matter how grateful he was for it, and wanted to explore more of Mahali Patakatifu.

As he pushed his door open, Cyrus was greeted with bright, boisterous afternoon light. He jerked his head back to avoid blinding himself, blinking against the unfamiliar brightness. When his eyes adjusted, he set out. Everything in this hidden city begged for his exploration, he was itching to see everything this civilization had to offer. As he journeyed further away from his small room, he realized just how large Mahali Patakatifu was. Cyrus wondered why such a vast civilization could be kept hidden from the world. Did they fear Men? What did we do to cause them to go into hiding? He journeyed on.

Everywhere he looked, faeries looked right back, their eyes wide and curious. Cyrus could hardly blame them. He looked vastly different from anyone else here, the least they could do was stare. So he walked on, feeling the weight of their gazes on his shoulders.

Finally, after feeling like he was wandering around in circles, Cyrus finally gained the courage to ask a faerie where exactly he was. He tapped on the shoulder of an older looking man wearing a ragged shirt. When he turned around, Cyrus nearly gasped, but thankfully caught himself. The faerie had one bright green eye and the other was cloudy and nearly translucent. It was terribly misshapen and was forever angled downwards, seeing nothing. It didn't even move when he looked to Cyrus. He merely chuckled at Cyrus' shocked expression.

"A twiga kicked me in the head when I was very young," he said, pointing to his sightless eye. Cyrus noticed the faint jagged scar running from the man's eyebrow down to his cheek. The faerie huffed.

"The damned thing knocked the vision from me."

Cyrus realized his mouth was open and he snapped it shut, feeling ashamed for staring. He cleared his throat.

"What's a twiga?" he asked, not quite looking into the man's good eye. The faerie smiled.

"Follow me, white hair. You're in for a treat. We have about twenty, with a few young ones on the way."

Without further explanation, the older faerie led him away from the center of the city and towards a series of thick bushes and low branches on the far outskirts where streams ran and ponds pooled.

"Actually I-" Cyrus began to say, but as the faerie drew farther from him, he simply shrugged his shoulders and followed. Before long, he was out of the hustle and bustle accompanying the thick of the faerie city. 

"What's your name?" Cyrus asked him, having to jog to keep up with the faerie. Although he considered himself tall, Cyrus had trouble keeping up with the faerie's long strides.

"Wimbi." he replied. "Of course, you don't have to introduce yourself. You're all everyone is whispering about, white hair."

Cyrus felt his cheeks redden.