Young Writers Society

(Can I get a waffle
Can I please get a waffle)

Tove glared at them. "Faeries have been around longer than any of us; it's not our place to question their motivations. We adapt and deter; that's all one can do. Or we establish a friendly relationship with them, which couldn't be further from what you're doing."
"I don't deny some of the Swifts' methods have been..." Beck adjusted their glasses with a shaking hand. "...unorthodox. But I'm telling you, in the end everything will work out. The Heron and the Swan were always meant to come forward as the true gods. These minor spirits and the faeries are fading more and more into the background, even without our help."
"Not out here."

(You should 1000% get a waffle)

Aeron sipped on his ale and pretended he wasn’t there, though he listened closely.

(So should Aeron; poor guy is having an awkward time)

(I did get a waffle on wednesday; my friend treated me to Huddle House for dinner)

"Because you're behind," Beck insisted. "The cities barely have any faeries. It's safe there."
"It's full of human crime instead," Tove corrected. "Thrush, I won't warn you again. You're going to make a lot of people angry if you stay, and I'm not accustomed to protecting the enemies of my fathers so you won't get any help from me. When the villagers or the faeries end up burning you at the stake you'll remember this."
Beck rose, picking up their notebook and tilting their chin up at Tove defiantly, though their heart was pounding with fear. "I'm not the one who should be afraid," they said curtly, then nodded to Aeron and hurried toward the door.

(Haha big dumb oaf just wants everyone to get along and doesn’t know what to do)
(And that’s fantastic friendship right there! I’m contemplating getting Texas Roadhouse Rolls. Just. Rolls. With the cinnamon butter of course)

Aeron took another drink, cheeks a little warm. “… you uh… want a drink?” Calm her down anyway.

(Oooo highly recommend)

Tove plopped down beside him and leaned her staff against the wall, glaring after Beck. "I'll have one," she said with a nod. "Little zealot. They don't even realize what they're doing to us, do they?"

Aeron glanced up to be sure Marge had heard, and she did and was pouring. So he glanced back over at Tove. “Yeahhh… seemed a wee bit… naive. But… not necessarily harmful?”

"They're all harmful," she said, shaking her head. "If they believe in what they say, they're dangerous."

“I think they may just be a dumb kid,” Aeron offered gently. “Misled, sure. A bit pushy. But not horrible… yet.”

Marge walked up and slid a mug across the bar to Tove.

"They're a grown adult," she scoffed. "They're what, thirty-seven? Thirty-eight? It's shocking they're as polite as they are, sure, but they're well-immersed now." She nodded to Marge and tipped the mug back, taking a couple gulps.

“Wait, are they?” Aeron blinked. “Didn’t realize they were that old.” He scratched his chin.

(They do have premature wrinkles but generally their face is pretty youthful.)

"They talk like a fresh acolyte, don't they?" she said with a snort. "They'll be out of here within forty-eight hours by my estimation. There's already gossip in the woods. People aren't happy that they're here, that's for sure."

(Yeah fair… Aeron is also a bit clueless and just reads the vibes and they give young vibes lol)

Aeron nodded slowly. “Well… hopefully it don’t come to blows.”

(They have a young soul)

"I have no doubt it will, if they don't clear out." Tove sipped her ale. "The Nesting Order's been burning hallowed forests to the east. Word gets around quick; the glothar are up in arms and so are the elves, among others. My papa's not patient; he's considering coming down here to stick around. Da might come along; we'll see."

Aeron grimaced. “Shameful. I don’t see why they’ve got to be so violent about things.”

"Zealots," she said again, glaring at the door. "They're all the same."