Tiatha had been given a list of Fey who might be interested, or who ought to be interested, in this year's Thanksgiving Dinner.

The list had been sorted... in reverse alphabetical order, because Edna had accidentally double clicked the name column.  It was one of those very, very minor things that set the wheels of fate turning in one direction instead of others.  Most Humans never noticed, thinking that fate, if there was such a thing, rested on very big things.  A few scientists had concluded otherwise, and described how a butterfly in Brazil could cause a tornado in Texas, but such things didn't matter to most Humans.

Butterflies mattered to nature Fey, especially Zoonabelle, who had been placed on top of the list by that little extra tap on a key, so she understood instinctively the importance of this event.  She couldn't just be a passive participant now; the universe wanted her involved.  Again.  So soon after that Troll affair.

(This would make two.  Zoonabelle shuddered.  It meant there would be three.  If there were two, there was always a three.)

 Zoonabelle lives in the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, the coastal marsh near John F Kennedy Airport, alone in an old boat stuck in the sand and abandoned.  Very much a loner, by Fey standards, but most Nature Fairies are.

But she's decided there is a meaning in the fact that she was first.  She knows the city is home to a handful of other Nature Fairies.  Most of them she's never met.  Everyone has their own "turf" as it were and hers is fairly well removed.  It's on the far side of Brooklyn, and it takes a lot to get a Nature Fairy to fly over Brooklyn.  (Though Zoonabelle recently did it, and therefore knows exactly what it takes.)  But she knows the names, and a few she's actually met.  She knows all the names, though, and where to find them.  The birds tell her.  Birds trust Zoonabelle instinctively.

She decides, therefore, to do the logical thing.  Start with the closest.  That would be... Flea.

Zoonabelle has recently learned that she has more courage than she thought she ever had.  That will be necessary, because Flea, unfortunately, lives somewhere Zoonabelle never thought a Nature Fairy... one of her own kind!... would call home.  Lower Manhattan.  Canyons of stone and glass.  Was there any nature there at all?  It seemed an impossible task, to find anyone in that.

But being a Nature Fairy changes the basic premise of impossible, when you can speak to birds, and ask about others like yourself, who are small and magical and have a mystical affinity for animals.  That narrows down the search range considerably.

At this time of year, it was a very busy period fo Flea. All the little babies from earlier in the year were fairly close to being grown up, some animals were talking of where they might go for the winter, or good spots to hibernate. The animals that braved the icy New York winter were all in full speed preparation, shovelling as much food as they could in larders, or themselves. There was not one moment where she wasn't hauling nuts around, digging out a hole under a tree root in a park, or giving moral support to the panicing squirrels. (Squirrels panic a lot. About anything. The default state of the squirrel brain is "Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god..." and when food store time is on them, they can quite literally run around in circles getting absolutely nothing done, because they are panicing about running around in circles getting absolutely nothing done. Squirrels are a major pain at times.)

At this moment, she was perched in a gutter on the top of a six storey brownstone. Around her were the local juvenile pigeon population, a couple of dozen who had got used to their wings, had the whole 'grabbing any food in sight' pretty much down, and were now going through the pigeon version of adolesence. That meant a lot of sex-crazed birds strutting about and utterly failing to impress other sex-crazed pigeons. It was an awful lot of fuss over not a lot.

Flea had found a half-eaten corn on the cob near some trashcans in an alley, and had hauled it up to the roof. She was sharing it, of course, but also crunching away at the corn, which was smeared with old congealed butter, and dirt. Each kernel was about the size of a melon, relative to her own tiny size, so this was a pretty good find. She'd save a couple of kernels and eat well for a couple of days.

As she was eating, she was listening to an old raven who had perched nearby. She'd known him since he was an egg, and often heeded his news. And his jokes. He knew more filthy jokes than anyone she had ever known, and this particular loft of squabs were getting an education in totally unrepeatable stories. However, pigeons and corvids were of different families, and their languages were not really that compatible beyond the basics. Flea was translating the stories.

The raven cawed and then cackled, flapping his wings in amusement. Flea thought about what he had said, and then made a bunch of suggestive cooing noises, putting the last part of the tale into pigeon. "And that's when the heron said, 'That ain't my beak, lady!'..."

She then cackled in merriment at the response, as the pigeons warbled their own amusement. She tossed a few more kernels to them. The raven preened his feathers, and spoke, his Brooklyn accent surprisingly thick. "Dats da way it is, whatcha gonna do? Dem wadin' boids, dey got just one thing on the brain. An' it ain't seashells. Hey, do ya know the one about the guy who goes on a date wid a goose in his pants?"

Flea blinked. "A goose? Was he insane? Geese... look, even I tread carefully about geese. They're totally nuts! Real psycho!"

"It's a joke, doofus!" The raven cawed, in exasperation. "They ain't meant ta be true!"

Zoonabelle found her target, eventually, conveniently up on a building, talking to a raven.
She rarely saw ravens.  Sea birds were Zoonabelle's thing.  But a bird was a bird, and someone talking to a bird was a Nature Fairy.

Zoonabelle was the far side of the Nature Fairy spectrum from Flea in some ways, and most obvious on first glance was the difference in fashion choice.  Zoonabelle supplied herself with "borrowed" doll clothing. Not "baby" dolls, that would be ridiculous, Zoonabelle knew. She adapted the clothing from fashion dolls.  She had a large collection, even so, of the millions of dollars worth of fashion doll clothing lost by little girls every year, a surprisingly small amount ended up with fairies.  More than enough to provide those that scrounged with substantial and quite colorful wardrobes.

Circling on the breeze, the cheery looking nature fairy settled down near Flea.

Her Seagulls and Egrets were much cleaner birds.   Settling down took a little work.

"Hello!" she said cheerily.

The arrival of a stranger into their midst got the birds into a fluster. Skittish things, pigeons. But since there was food and no sign of this person being a predator, they eventually calmed the chorus of cooing, and watched, as pigeons are also very nosey.

Flea lowered the chunk of corn from her face, and beamed. Her visage was grimy and smeared with some old butter, and worse. But it was also friendly, as was her nature. Another fairy was always welcome at her table, even if they did smell of some very odd things - was that... marshland? In the city? It made no sense!

"Hello! Sit down and have some corn. It's really good, very slippery! Have we met? I don't think we've met. I'd remember. I'm damn good at remembering things. Ask me anything I know, I'll prove it!"

She waved a hand at the raven, who hopped further along the gutter. And said "Kark!" in a rather annoyed way at being shooed.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:23, Tue 23 Aug 2016.

"You're one of us!" Zoonabelle says with guarded optimism.  Her slightly shaky voice carries a subtext- I really, really hope you are, because you are a little strange.  "And I am on an Important Mission!  They chose me first, above all others, which is very Meaningful because no one ever thinks of me.  Not at all.  Mostly they all forget I am out there but that's fine, you know how it is with us."

Again, her voice seems to indicate that she worries that things are utterly contrary to what she is saying.

"As far as I know, we haven't met.  I have met only two others of our kind, Jackanna who looks after the zoo and park animals, and Wezzle, who is in the north part of the city."

Flea has heard of him.  Sort of a "beach bum" of a Nature Fairy, though he counts a large part of the Long Island Sound as his domain and has done well with the endangered Ridley Sea Turtles that, surprisingly, show up on a couple of secluded islands close to the city.

"What nice pigeons!  There certainly are... a lot of them."

"There are..." Flea closed her eyes and concentrated hard, "Six hundred and seventy three thousand, four hundred and nine pigeons in my territory at this time." She opened her eyes and beamed widely. "That's a lot of pigeons, but don't even ask me to count the rats, because I might take all day! Did you know that this whole human big-village has about one pigeon for every human in it? That's a lot of pigeons. Sometimes I even forget their names."

She tore off a chunk of corn and held it out to her visitor, happily. She always shared! "I never met either of them. I don't go out of this place much. Too much to do! Not so bad once everyone goes away for winter, but right now, I can't really find much time to sleep. What made you come here? Do you want to help? Oh, that would be so nice! Do you have any experience with sewers?"

Zoonabelle wrinkles her nose at the very thought of a sewer.

"Sewers smell bad," she says.

A tidal marsh at low tide is no picnic for the nose either, but Zoonabelle is used to that smell.

"I am here because of the library," Zoonabelle says.  "There is a Human custom, and they wish us to participate.  Every year at this time, Humans gather at this time with their families, and they eat a big dinner.  They call it Thanksgiving.  I suppose they Thank somebody, or each other, something like that.  But, they chose me first, to contact me, and I think it means something.  Of course it does!  I think it means... well, you know... we Nature Fairies rarely see each other.  We have no families.  Not like Humans do.  This is a chance.  We could bring the others together, for this one day.  Be family.  Eat Human food.  Like... this thing you have."

Zoonabelle grabs the chunk of corn.  "Humans have extraordinary food.  The seagulls love it.  They will even seek out what the Humans throw away.  If the trash is that good, the part the Humans don't throw away, that must be magic."

Flea waved a buttery hand enthusiastically. "Oh, I know aaaaallllllll about it! That time of year is just the best garbage ever! I mean, even the bits that are a bit fusty are still pretty damn nummy! You really should hang around a few days after, there's always plenty to go around." She gulped down another few mouthfulls of corn, with all the table manners of a deranged hog.

However, the significance of the event is not lost on her. Sure, she looks and acts like no Nature Fairy worthy of the name - at least, so far as a lot of the other Nature Fairies might judge. But she is still one of them, and can see the opportunities this affords them all.

"It'd be good to have a get together. I mean, I know names and stuff. But we never meet. So this could be a lot of fun. And the Library, that's mine!" Well, in her turf, so as far as she is concerned, it belongs to her. Even those other fae and humans in the Library were there because she let them stay. That's how her brain works. Her turf - her Library. "So I'll make extra special double dog down swear on star sure that everyone has a good time!"

She turned and cooed at the pigeons, who strudded about, making an awful racket for a few moments. The thought of their first Thanksgiving leftovers was obviously one that got them stirred up. They heard tell of this magical thing called pie, and wanted to try it so very much.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Fri 26 Aug 2016.

"The Library is Yours?" Zoonabelle asks, sounding puzzled and awed.  "I just have a boat.  It's a nice boat.  I decorated it."

She goes on to explain what she knows so far:  the Library is making a list of Fey who would attend, and also, those who should attend, and also, those who should really be on the list but aren't on the list yet because no one knows about them.  Zoonabelle ended up top of the list.  Clearly it was because this was Meant To Be.  She is Important.

"And I thought about it, and I understand it," she says.  "It is because no one else is as good at Finding as a Nature Fairy.  We know the animals.  My seagulls, your... goodness, that one is friendly... pigeons.  Do you know all their names?  With the Nature Fairies searching, very soon we will know all the Fey in the city, and invite all who need to be invited.  Although that is the part I am not sure about.  I don't know what they really meant about should be invited.  Are their some of us who would be more helped by this ritual?"

"Yes! I have the most important job in the Library, and everyone there knows it and says so! They often give me tribute in the form of things like cake and stuff!" Flea seemed very proud of this, and the concept of 'just humouring the silly fairy' never once entered her mind.

She munched on her corn as she listened. "Well, duh! Everyone knows that nature fairies know everything that is going on. Even the big people seem to know it, though humans are too dense to actually bother asking us anything. I wonder sometimes how they can get through the day without walking into stuff. Some of them can't even manage that!"

She lobbed several more kernels into the warbling mass of pigeons. "I know most of 'em. That is Coo, this is Coo, over there is Coo, and this one is called Coo..." The names sounded almost the same, but each had its own pitch, own variations. Not that most people would notice it, but nature fairies had far more experience at this sort of thing. "But who should be invited? I dunno. Prob'ly everyone, I guess. I dunno what the ritual is meant to do. I think it's all about eating too much, having big arguments, and falling asleep in the afternoon. Most human rituals are."

A rather broad, if slightly justified, view of human life.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Tue 30 Aug 2016.

"Arguments?  That means there will probably be Goblins on the list.  We'll have to track them down, to.  They're... well... I saw a couple of them.  Of course.... yes, of course we have to invite the Goblins.  Ettiquette.   Oh my.. I hadn't thought of the Ettiquette.  This is going to be scarier than I thought."

Any Fey would know exactly what Zoonabelle is talking about.  There are always Fey creatures who are not nice.  Fortunately for Mortals, and especially other Fey, they respect certain rules and generally do not cause much trouble.  But some things provoke them, and high on the list is being disrespected by not being invited to a party other Fey are invited to.  Even if they have no intention to actually attend, not being invited is an unforgivable slight.  Humans wrote a famous story the wrath of an evil fairy who wasn't invited when she should have been.

And then they turned that story into a well known ballet.  The last time it was staged in Manhattan, only a handful of mortals knew that the part of one of the fairies was being danced by an actual fairy.

"Etty-ketty? I know all about that, don't I? Don't we?!" Flea turned to the pigeons and there was a chorus of cooing and flapping that clearly showed that these were polite, well brought up young pigeons, who had learned the proper way to behave. "What is etty-ketty, then?" Flea awaited a pigeon response, but the croaking voice of the raven broke through, and spoke in a passable version of fairy... Ravens were intelligent birds, and full of all sorts of surprises.

"Ettiquette. Ettiquette is where you make sure that both the biggest bird an' the smallest bird both get fair shares of a dead cat wot you find roun' the back of a dumpster. That's wot it is!"

Flea pointed at the raven and said, in approval. "See! We all know proper manners 'round here! But... oh, wait!" Her look became very worried, and she lowered her voice to a whisper, so the pigeons could not hear her concern. "Will we have enough dead cats? I mean, goblins eat a lot, and I bet each human can eat one whole cat just to themselves! I don't think I have enough to go round, not at this time of year. Maybe after new year, when the snow is properly run in... but it's too early for dead cat season. Do you think they might be happy with... I don't know... something cat shaped? Made out of garbage? Humans are idiots, they won't know the difference."

Flea had a lot of experience, in her own field. But her view of life was quite limited beyond that. To her, etiquette was a rule about metaphorical dead cats. The idea of expanding that to encompass things outside her frame of reference was one that did not immediately occur to her

"I never thought birds had etiquette," Zoonabelle says. "Well... the egrets do.  They're very dignified, you know.  But seagulls... they see something and they're all Mine! Mine! Mine!... it's maybe a very different kind of etiquette."

The nature fairy turns pale when the conversation turned to dead cats.  Even to her nature-hardened senses, those smelled bad.  And she was the sort of nature fairy who tried very hard to pretend that actual ugliness and suffering didn't exist in her world.

Zoonabelle had watched television through a window once.  She saw fairies.  Not how fairies were, not like her and certainly not like Flea, but perhaps, how fairies should be.  It did not involve dead cats.

"I... don't know what they will have to eat.  I guess they will plan, once they know who is coming.  They didn't tell me that part.  Do you want to come with me to the Library?  It's not far, it's... your domain.  It probably has pigeons.  You can tell them you have joined up for this."

Flea wrinkled her nose. "Seagulls. They are a nuisance, they are so greedy and selfish. They often disturb the chicks of the other birds. I tolerate them, but they have to obey the rules or I get very cross!"

Which might sound less than threatening from someone a few inches tall, but fairy magic was not something to sneer at. As a lot of thoughtless humans had discovered, down the years.

She threw the remains of the corn to the pigeons, who flew at it as if they had never tasted food in their lives. The chorus of cooking and wing flaps was quite frantic. Flea wiped her greasy hands on her shirt, leaving nasty looking rancid butter stains. She then wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stepped off the side of the guttering, and dropped like a stone into oblivion.

After a moment, which might have seemed a lot longer given her sudden departure, there was a buzzing of wings and she rose up to hover over her visitor's head. "Well, come on then! Time's a-wastin'! I'll give you the proper tour later, this is just the best place to live, ever! But right now, we have work to do! Let's get you and your list of stuff and ... stuff ... to the Library!"

She zipped away a few feet quickly, and bobbed about. The raven sighed, which was an odd thing for a raven to do. "It'll all end in tears, you know. Give me a dead cat, any day!"

The two fairies take the sky, but it's a fairly short distance to the library.  Nothing, compared to the tiring flight in from Zoonabelle's wildlife sanctuary.

The Veil has a hard time with flying fairies.  It can't disguise them as Humans, because the sight of Humans flying through the air, unaided, is at least as disturbing as Fairies.  Typically, they are disguised as birds, though the Sylphs are usually seen as passing wisps of cloud.  Of course, there are always those who see through the Veil; these being the very young, the very drunk, and those with a very tenuous grasp on reality.

There are plenty of them in the city, but not so many on Madison Avenue.  Still, the flight of the two fairies does cause a taxi driver to ram his cab into a United Parcel Service truck making a turn onto East 24th Street.

But the driver knows:  some things you do not say, not now, not if you want to keep your license.

They land on the library's cornice, with a small group of pigeons gathering.  The pigeons strongly suspect that the presence of two nature fairies together must mean something of importance.  Like someone dropping a sandwich.  They gather.

Flea ducked and dived, flying through her territory with confidence, taking odd short cuts down alleys, up and over buildings, and along guttering. A lot of these places were dirty, and did not smell especially pleasant. But they did cut down transit time significantly.

Eventually she landed on the roof. She eyed the gathering pigeons and sighed. "Always the same. There's no creature quite so nosey as a pigeon." She turned to them and spoke, in pigeon. "There's nothing to see here, you know. We're going inside, and you know you can't come in with us! When there's anything to eat, I'll let you know. This is fairy business! Go on, there's a new hot dog seller in the Village, on Bleeker Street. I am sure he'll drop all sorts of nice things."

Pigeons, at least, understood directions. If this was a sparrow, she'd practically have to carry the bird there herself. Sparrows had no concept of mapreading.

She then wandered to a grating over a ventilation shaft. The grate was rusted through, and there was room to squeeze inside. "We go down here, it'll take us to one of the rooms they use for machinery and things. No idea what they are for. Machines always seem so big and slow. Why don't humans learn to use magic, like normal people?"

"We can't just knock?" Zoonabelle asks.  "Last time I knocked on the roof window where they were having a meeting."

She'd been here only once before, and it hadn't seemed so complicated.  But then, she lived a sheltered and remote life in Jamaica Bay, while the Library was part right there in Flea's territory.  Obviously Flea knew what she was doing.

But just to make sure, Zoonabelle checked the window.  The room inside was almost empty, but not entirely.

There is the ventilation shaft, though...

Zoonabelle peaks in past the screen.

"It is terribly dusty in there."

Then she looks over Flea, and adds:  "I suppose dust doesn't bother you.  But... it's not healthy for me.  And it's very dark and scary.  Must we?"

Flea sighed. It did not feel right. Why should she have to knock on the window to be let into her own Library? It was demeaning! They would be installing a cat flap for her next! Well... actually, she found them really incredibly useful. Popping into someone's home to swipe the freshly laid out meal while their back was momentarily turned was a regular trick of hers. Admittedly, not a lot of places in her territory had cat flaps, but she did find them handy. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone. She had her pride!

She buzzed her wings and slowly floated to the window, and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I don't see what is remotely scary about a pitch black dust and goo filled narrow tunnel plunging directly downwards with no hand holds, filled with spiders and roaches and rats! What's scary about that? They're fun! If you stop flapping and just drop straight down, it's a huge rush! And anyway, cobwebs are very attractive on the right person. I wear them a lot!"

She peered through the window, and then kicked it several times. It was a surprisingly loud kick, but Flea probably cheated. A little amplification spell, or illusion, or something. She did not want to be outside the window all night, and sometimes tall people could be incredibly dense. She wanted to get their attention properly!

Neither of the two fairies has much experience with building ventilation, which might be a good thing or a bad thing, depending.

If they had, they might know of the differences between the several kinds of vents that may be found on a roof.

There are the exhaust vents, and these generally lead to a sharp metal spinny thing that was designed with the safety of fairies in mind.  Birds, yes, so exhaust vents will often have a wire mesh over the opening, however, Flea has already gotten past that.

There are the plumbing vents, which are there to vent off noxious gasses that can build up in the sewage lines.  Even a street hardened fairy like Flea might think twice about entering such a vent.  These never have bird screens.  Birds are not that stupid.

And there are the roof/attic vents, there to help cool the building by venting off the hot air that accumulates under the roof of a building.  There are several kinds of these, but fortunately they do not lead to spinny things, using natural convection to remove the hot air.

Given the unforgiving nature of the spinny things, it is perhaps best they knocked on windows.

They tried a few before they discovered the "private" library conference room.  Zoonabelle remembered that one.

Sure enough,  Edna Birnbaum was there... with the computer, with The List- the one that had Zoonabelle On Top and therefore was Very Important.

A few window raps brought her over.  Edna had been "managing" the city's Fey population for a while now, she knew about things like this.  "Walk in through the front door" was not a tactic that came naturally to many Fey.

Especially the small ones.

"Zoonabelle!  What brings you back?  Not another Troll in the marsh?"

And then the old woman, who is one with the Gift of seeing what is really there and not what the Veil wants her to see, sets her bespectacled eyes on Flea.

"Goodness!  What happened to your friend?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:49, Fri 16 Sept 2016.

Flea folded her arms and gave the large woman what was best known as "the hairy eyeball." She barged her way inside - as much as a six inch high fairy can barge anywhere, which is not much. "Nothing happened to me! I might ask the same about you, thank you very much!"

Flea knew a lot of the fae who attended the Library, but this was someone new to her. Which explained why she didn't know how very important Flea was. She puffed herself up grandly. "I am Flea, and you are in my territory! All around here is mine! I make sure it all works properly. I keep the birds flapping and the wasps buzzing and all those wriggly things...er... wriggling!"

She lost her thread slightly, but regained her point. "And, and ... and that means that the Library is mine as well. So there!"

She zipped across to the computer on blurring wings, and landed on the table. She peered at the screen and frowned. "Helllllooooo?" She shouted it at. "Anyone in there?" Flea was familiar with these odd boxes. She had seen a lot of them, with the amount of humans and businesses in her region. She knew all about them, or so she reckoned. Inside the boxes were tiny slaves, who had a tendency to take their clothes off and do things to one another for the amusement of humans. Flea felt this was most unfair, and had been very worried about the slaves, as they were not much bigger than fairy-kind, and they probably needed some help to escape.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Sat 17 Sept 2016.

Edna Birnbaum had worked the Library's Special Research Section for many years, being one of those rare Humans able to see Fae naturally.  She learned early on that it was best not to mention it to other Humans.  They had a habit of questioning the sanity of people who did that.  Even in the hip, groovy 60's and 70's, though back then, Edna learned that if she talked about the Pixies with her friends, they wouldn't think she was insane.  They would just ignore it.

"No really, there's one in the flowers, behind you."

"Righteous. Far out. Hey, you wanna get sumthin ta eat?"

One can fail to appreciate the amazing from both ends of the spectrum, she learned.

But Edna never failed.  And she developed a deep love for the Fey folk, one that extended even to ones like... well like Flea.

She looked back and forth between the two fairies.  It was amazing how two Nature Fairies, beings one would assume were similar, could be so different.  Zoonabelle's fine blue and pink dress, worn over purple leggings and fastened around her back with little velcro tabs, and on the other hand... Flea.

"Well different strokes for different folks, I guess, even small folks," the woman said.  "I suppose you two simply never agree when foraging for clothes.  And yes, the Library is for you as well... what brings you here today?"

"Clothes? My clothes are perfectly adequate for the job of making me not cold. What else matters?" Flea knocked on the side of the monitor again, trying to find a way inside. She could list from memory every good nesting site in her patch, but she had never actually had computers explained to her. She was sure that someone was trapped inside.

"I don't really come to this part of the library. But I know all the drains!" She turned and peered at Edna. "We're here because of turkeys. And family arguments. And lots and lots of garbage!"

Well, from the perspective of Flea and her charges, that was probably fairly true. But as explanations go, it was less than edifying.

The Fey do not lie, Edna recalled.  At least, not nearly as much as Humans.  And they usually made as much sense or more, if you listened carefully, parsed the words...

"The Computer List!" Zoonabelle said excitedly.

Unless of course you were dealing with a Fey like Zoonabelle, who was completely without guile or slyness, an innocent.

But to Edna, it was just a list.  No magic about it.  Just the names the file held.

"And what about the list... oh, you wish to be on it?"

"I AM on it, I am first, I am the top of the list!"  Zoonabelle said, surprised that Edna did not know that, nor understand the obvious importance.

Edna nodded.  Sometimes, with the Fey, this was the best thing to do.  Simply nod.  And see where things go from there.

"First on the list," Zoonabelle said, emphasizing.  "And so I am spreading the word to the other Nature Fairies, because why else would a Nature Fairy be first?  We are chosen.  And it makes all the sense in the world.  We can find everyone better and faster."

Edna nodded again.  "Hm.  There's a new one, you know."

"No,I don't" Zoonabelle said.

"No you don't what?"  Edna asked.

"No I don't know a new one."

"Figure of speech.  As it is, there is a new Fey.  I think, at least, he is a Fey.  And, of a type I do not believe has been in this city before.  I have a description, from a few reliable witnesses, I think he might be a Satyr.  But he should be brought in, before trouble is caused.  Satyrs, as you know, enjoy a little trouble."

"No, I did not know that," Zoonabelle says.

"Well, it's often said about them.  And that's why... if you are here about the Thanksgiving List, and finding Fey... there is one who should be on it, just to get him to meet us, and learn how things work in this city.  We don't want things to go badly."

Flea turned from the computer and frowned at the news they received. "Satyrs don't go to cities," she stated, with an air of that being an irrefutable fact. "They're supposed to be rural fae! They frolic, and rutt, and play music, and make shepherdesseses...esess... fall in love, and things. That's what satyrs are for! Why would one come to this city? It must be something very important!"

Flea was not the most knowledgable fairy. She was small, and a small brain cannot hold a lot of ideas all at the same time. But the nature fairys had something akin to race memory when it came to their own kind. A satyr was always supposed to be a rural creature. However, since the spread of cities, it was no surprise that many rural fae had given up that lifestyle entirely, and embraced the urban world. After all, that is precisely what Flea had done herself, and although she was very dirty, she had thrived in that environment. However, she did not see how that should apply to anyone else. It was not hypocrisy. It was not meant as a criticism. She simply did not entirely understand how the world worked for anyone but herself.

"I expect a satyr will be easy to find. Just look for the place where humans are naked, drunk, doing that weird thing with their genitals, and punching each other. Satyrs are good at that. Whenever they have a little party, it all comes down to groins and regurgitation, at the end. It's always been a bit pointless if you ask me!"

"But nowadays arent humans eeeeeeeeverywhere getting naked drunk and doing gross things with their genitals?" came a voice from behind. The one to speak was tall, about 6'2" and easily could have passed for human, until you saw his eyes. The eyes never seemed to stay one colour. He strode forward, long and elegant strides.

"Evening, I have many names but call me Pan. I'm your Fae that has to be brought in. So..." he held out his hands and winked at the Fae. "Cuff me ladies." As he winked he spread Panic through the Fae, attempting to have them fight over who could 'Bring him in.'

(Sorry I have been a little behind here)

Edna is surprised.  She had thought Pan would have to be located, found, and invited.  This seemed to greatly simplify things, and avoided all sorts of irrelevant complications.

But one question loomed.

"Just how did you get here?" the woman asks.

Zoonabelle looks up.   The two little nature fairies don't even reach to Pan's knees.

"Well, I think if we have to bring him in it is best if it is voluntary.  I could never carry him.  Can we take him off the list?"

But something else distracts Zoonabelle and her eyes shift to the window.

"Why is it snowing outside?"

Snow, in this time of year (very late autumn) is not impossible, or even that unusual, but today, specifically, it was very much not anticipated.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:36, Wed 12 Oct 2016.

Flea almost jumped out of her skin - people should not be allowed to sneak up like that. They need bells, or something, so cats can always know where they are, and stuff.

She regained her composure after buzzing around in circles for a moment. She landed and glared at the satyr. "Don't DO that!" She frowned and floated upwards on little buzzy wings. "I want to bring him in, but we can't, can we? On account of, he isn't outside. You can't bring someone in if they are already in, can you? No, you can't!" She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Pan. "You need to go away! If you go outside, then we can bring you in, and we're supposed to do that. So you need to go! Otherwise we can't do what we're supposed to do!" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, the bigger they are, the harder it is to make them understand!"

And then she turned, very slowly, and stared at the window. "Ooohh... that's bad! Early snow is not at all good. The squirrels are going to be going mental!"

Mental squirrels, it seems, is not something to be taken lightly.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Fri 14 Oct 2016.

"I know a squirrel!" Zoonabelle says excitedly.  They are not exactly common in marshes and tidal zones, but they do inhabit the drier areas of her domain.

"As we seem to have brought our Satyr to our presence... we have to go further down our list, I'm afraid," Edna says.  "There are some Fey in the city who are not going to pleasant to deal with, or to have as guests.  Boorish, crude, and wicked..."

"So let's not invite them at all!" Zoonabelle chirps.

The senior Librarian shakes her head.  "Dear little nature fairy, if only it was that simple.  I am not talking about Goblins, or even Red Caps."

"There's a Red Cap here?"  Zoonabelle asks.  In Fey Lore, they are among the nastiest of them all.  Malevolent and murderous, and altogether vile and unpleasant even when they are not being murderous.  Red Caps are absurdly strong and don't seem to have the same issues with iron as many Fey, or maybe they do, and just like to feel the discomfort, because they have a strange habit of wearing iron shoes.

"Just one that I know of," Edna says, "an enforcer and a petty thug for a gang.  But I am not talking about him.  There are more powerful beings, and among them, a few who would take it as a personal insult to not be invited.  We don't want to insult anyone."

Grabble enters the room rubbing one of his ears vigorously. He hears the trail end of the conversation and gives a loud harumph to announce his presence. "People like that could use a good personal insult. Would you like me to deliver it in person?" Whether the goblin is being facetious or not is not entirely clear, but he seems serious enough about volunteering to deliver the invitation. "And don't worry too much about the snow. Christmas seems to come earlier every year." The goblin gives the occupant the room a thorough once over.

Pan smiles before taking a few steps. "You really want me to leave? I may not come back....." It would be evident he enjoyed talking in riddles. "Christmas coming early sounds good to me. I used to spread all kinds of rumours in Scandinavia at Christmas time. Scared the kids senseless.....They called me something when I did it but for the life of me I cant remember it." He seemed lost in a nostalgic faraway memory before snapping back to reality.
"Oh yeah, going outside. Well...if youre sure..."

Flea gave Pan a long, serious look, then sighed. "No, you're here now. We'd best make do. But I want you to know, you have upset the entire system! If it all goes wrong now, don't hold me responsible! I'm supposed to look after birds and rats and cats and things. Not other fae. Might as well stay now."

Like a lot of the small True Faeries, Flea had a very strong sense of duty and order, and when things went out of her comfort zone, she was not always able to handle things. However, she was determined to soldier on.

Right until she registered the arrival of... *gulp* a goblin!

Now, as a rule, Flea was not prejudiced against anyone until they gave her reason to do so - which in fairness, most human beings did, fairly quickly. Her world was one of dirt and poverty, and humans did not treat her animal friends very kindly. Hardly a day went by when she hadn't something or someone to bury or comfort for bereavement. And, while they had fey blood, Goblins were a little too like humans in some ways. In behaviour, at times. Flea did not get on well with goblins. They were too big and unruly and she was, for all her strong personality, very squishy indeed.

So she did what any sane little fairy would do at such times, and looked for something to hide behind. This took a long time, relatively speaking, so when she did finally dart behind the computer monitor, half the city probably had time to notice.

She peered around the monitor and hissed at it, still sure someone was inside. "Stay there! We've got goblins! Hush!"

Zoonabelle looked back and forth.  Flea was a Nature Fairy, like her, only with.. well, a lack of appreciation for fashion.  At least, Zoonabelle's kind of fashion.  A Goblin, on the other hand...

She thought.  It didn't seem like Flea would be uncomfortable with Goblins. They were certain unmistakable overlaps in their style.  Hairstyle, for example.

"We have Goblins that live under the landfills!" Zoonabelle said cheerily.  "They find everything!  Anything! It's true they look kind of... umm... Gobliny.  But they are... Goblins.  Really."

She hoped it made sense.  Playing it back in her mind she wasn't sure.

Edna took a deep breath.

"The dangerous Fey I am talking about are not Goblins.  There are... well, one thing I've learned is that a green nose and pointed ears aren't the worst things to have, the most dangerous Fey can be the fairest to look at."

Grabble squints suspiciously at the tiny fairy who darts behind the computer screen; taking more than a little pleasure in playing the part of antagonist. He grins, showing his teeth, but then crosses his arms and turns to look at the other fae in the room. "I don't know what looking 'gobliny' has to do with anything, but in my experience folks who look pretty are always more dangerous. At least a goblin will always be straight forward about lying to you." As far as Grabble is concerned, that statement makes perfect sense.

And Edna knows, it ought to make sense to anyone who knows Fey well.

She finds a file on the computer, and calls the others over to show them.

"He is a fine example of what our Goblin is talking about. Luthraeg is a High Faerie, but of the "unseelie".  Like all his kind, cold, without pity or empathy for others.  Luthraeg has powerful magic and a dark charisma that seems to easily others to his will.  For some reason, he prefers Red Caps and Boggarts.  But Luthraeg is happy living as an interior decorator in the city.  He's actually in demand, and respected.  He has decorated the homes of some very wealthy, famous clients.
"He goes out of his way to meet and pursue every good looking female Fey in the area, and some of the best looking male ones."

"Well not me!" Zoonabelle says, standing up straight and showing off her hourglass figure in her pink and purple figure flattering dress."

"You are eleven inches tall," Edna says.

"And three quarters." Zoonabelle replies.

"I'm sure once Luthraeg figures out how to get around the issue of size... but for now, you might and Flea have an advantage here, as females which are, well, simply not plausible for him."

"Well, we're on it then!  We'll invite him.  What have you got for the Goblin?"

"Best if he went along to help you.  As I said... Red Caps.  Red Caps and Boggarts."

Grabble grins a little as the Fey is described to him. "Oh you bet. Now that I'm in New York, I'm certain that I'm one of the best looking males in the city. Wouldn't mind getting my teeth on a Red Cap or two as well." He throws a glance at Edna. "Metaphorically." He does indeed seem practically eager at the prospect of the job.

Turning his gaze to Zoonabelle, Grabble raises an eyebrow. "Which of us will be doing the fancy talking though? I'm likely to offend this Luthraeg if I say too much within earshot." He hardly seems to think that offending a High Faerie is a problem, but is willing to defer to his compatriots.

"Not Plausible!!!?!?!?!?!"

Flea's small shriek of indignation was surprising, given her size. She stepped out of her hidey-hole, clearly more annoyed than scared, and any fear she might have of a goblin (and she obviously had her reasons, whatever they were) was over-ruled by that statement.

"Not plausible! I'm perfectly plausible! Is he suggesting I tell lies? NEVER! I'm the most plausible fairy ever, I expect! Well, we'll just show him who is plausible and who is not!" She stomped to the edge of the table and crossed her arms, a tiny figure of rage. "He might be high fae, but it won't stop me plucking his ear hairs out if he doesn't show proper respect! You just leave the talking up to me! I'll tell him a few home truths and make sure he comes to our party! And if he won't come, I'll make sure every human home he paints ends up full of cockroaches and termites and worse!"

She set her jaw and gave those assembled the hairy eyeball, which might have worked if she was not so adorably tiny. It just looked highly comical, instead. "I really could, you know!"

She probably could, for all that. Her rapport with the vermin of the city was a pretty bizarre thing for a true fairy to have developed, but she did have a great deal of influence over her charges. It was more than possible that she could get a nest of roaches to move houses as a favour.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Fri 04 Nov 2016.

Fey Folk... sometimes the barrier to mutual understanding just seemed to wide to breach.  Edna decided against trying to explain how she meant physically implausible, given the sizes... no, best not go there.  It wasn't that nature fairies wouldn't know of such things, in fact, they often knew quite a bit more than one might expect of a little winged fairy, as they know how their animals behave and why.  It was... Fey had a way of not following any conversation that had to do with things like math, physics, size, impracticality...

So, instead, Edna turned her attention to tracking down one of the most nefarious Fey living in the city.  She was actually happy that her volunteers included a Goblin.