So I was just waking up yesterday. I was in the pyjamas I’d got in Cambridge; they won’t last long, but they are soft and comfy and oh so very pink.
And then there was an unfamiliar presence in the room, and an unfamiliar voice asking where he was.
It’s not that this is all that unusual in the Wylds. We’ve recently had a guy displaced from some airport in New York, convinced he was going back there any minute.
It’s just that it doesn’t often happen in my bedroom. Well, it never has before. This place is securely warded, so no one who intends me harm is likely to get in.
And yet, there was a tall blond man in the bedroom. Who’d apparently slept on my couch.
So of course I served him tea! Bran and Wulfrich were understandably suspicious: Wulf would have taken him into the security office and interrogated him, but I could see he was upset, so I’ve put that off, at least for now.
The fellow was undeniably strange. He reminded me of no one so much as some of the odd refugees we used to get at the Lucky Leaf.
He spoke of things like neo wood and some kind of fake fire. I had real trouble following his conversation, but I found myself oddly fascinated by the realm from which he must have come.
Probably the funniest thing he said was that he expected Bran would have to have a certification to handle fire!
He didn’t remember his name, or anything, he said, about what he’d been doing before or during his realm shift.
He was bloody fit, though. Tall, blond, from the facial features I’d guess of Nordic or Saxon descent, if there’s such a thing where he comes from.
I tried to calm him, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it: he worried the food might be poisoned, spoke of Faerie as mythical; of course, they all do, at first: I certainly did.
I should have had Wulfrich escort him to Mysthaven. But he was lost and floundering and at least he seems to be able to communicate with me. I don’t know what the villagers will make of him, and my Fae nature tells me it will be great fun to see him encounter his first demifae, interact with Faerie in general.
I’m putting him in Bran’s room for now. There’s time to take him to the village later, assuming he hasn’t disappeared back to his home realm tomorrow, where Faerie will just seem like some strange dream.
He agreed to be called Tam, at least until he remembers his real name, assuming he has one. The concept of names even seemed to throw him off.
Every day a new birth, and all things are possible in Faerie, as always.