Day 2 - Folklore (and history) for @cityelfweek
- Show the folklore that city elves have created over time. Superstitions, stories, heroes, villains... anything!
“Did yah hear! Did yah hear!”
“Hear what Lani?”
“The bride spirit! The bride spirit killed all the snooty shem up in the castle!!”
“That’s nonsense, Lani. Spirits aren’t real.”
“They are too Peytor!”
“Yeah, well why are you only just telling me about this ‘bride spirit’ if they’re real? Hmm? I bet you don’t even know what they look like.” Peytor rolled his eyes and pretended to humour his young cousin, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed with a mix of agitation and childlike wonder.
“I d-d-do too! She’s super pretty! Prettier than Mamae!” The little girl fisted her tiny hands in her penefor, stomping her feet.
“Oh yeah?” Unimpressed, Peytor grabbed a stick and started to scratch patterns in the dirt.”What do they look like then, that you’d risk Aunties wrath?”
“She’s beautiful! Her eyes are red like my bird's favorite berries! And her hair is so hot it’s on fire!”
“So she’s a wrath demon?”
“Nuh-uh! She’s vengeance, Peytor! And her wedding dress is so pretty and sparkly, nothing can make it dirty!” Lani was twirling her own dress, its dirtiness forgotten in the fantasy.
“If she killed all them shem, how is she still clean? That doesn’t make sense, dummy.” Peytor’s drawing was taking shape. Fiery hair, big ol eyes. Fangs.
“She’s a bride, duh, they’re always clean and pretty. BUT!” Lani jumped, arms raised, little hands waving pudgy fingers. “Everywhere she walks she leaves a trail of shem blood!” the little girl grinned, her eyes scrunched up in little girl glee, her ears pricked up in excitement.
“That’s gross, Lani” he laughed, scribbling more waves of blood onto his dirt doodle.
“Is not, she’s beautiful~” The girl giggled again.
As a couple of adults walked by, Peytor pulled his cousin out of the way. Glancing at them, an elven woman with crimson eyes caught his, winking once, before looping her arm around her companion and going on their way.