I Like The Way It Hurts

"Well, do ye plan on sailing through the mangroves?" A crisp, Scottish accent sounded. The soot and snow fae had been drawn by the flickering light of a fire. Upon arriving at the clearing where the fire crackled merrily, Cirrus noted a big male, sprawled out on the ground, drinking. Beside him was a big raft and it struck the fae as being rather comical.

Not waiting for an invitation, the tiny fae padded out into the clearing and seated herself on the opposite side of the fire. The winter night was chilly, but not unbearably so. All the same, the warmth pouring off of the fire felt lovely. Hopefully the man wouldn't try to run her off or something like that. If he tried, perhaps she could give him a little compensation for utilizing his hard work.

As she sat there, dual-toned eyes looked the man over. He was young and fit. The golden markings on his dark coat were unique and complimented his shape nicely. All in all, he was a very good looking brute. She noticed that he was drinking quite heavily and decided to point it out. "Girl troubles?" The woman's head gave a little tilt, her brows raising. "Boy troubles?" She left it at that. An invitation to make him speak.

"Cirrus"