Barrow Fields she like girls & and i like girls

The carnivorous fae could be amused by the shy being of a woman, her accents and all only added to her rarity and kind. An immigrant perhaps, traveler though these parts? Whatever her business, the less than fae was keen on noting what scents graced her as well. A swimmer, juding from her stature and lithe, even the tincture of her eyes reminded her of distant seas back in the faerie weald's domains . . . 

❝ You believe that's so? Flattered. Aoibh, ❞ she hums idly as emeralds and lapis meet, not missing each other's glimmer and pulchritude. ❝ I'm from the making of a pack, if you can even call it that . . . and yourself? ❞ The siren damsel herself, was quite pretty. An allure to her unmatched by the petty options left behind in the faerie court, they weren't as extravagant and exotic. Not like her. Aoibh wouldn't mind a good minute or two spent with an ocean bloom . . .