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About Birdie

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  1. Simple Struggles An ancient writer, Tyconae, coined the term 'Gatsby' for someone who 'gets by' life. He used this term freely to describe both those who are wealthy enough to get by without ever lifting a finger, and those toiling and barely getting by on a day-to-day basis. Those who work hard and those who are hardly working. "That woman was a Gatsby," one would say, or "indeed that dragon is a friend of Gatsby." Naming your child Gatsby was a risky one; akin to naming them Success or Wellbeing, or Happiness. It may sound like a name to you humans (I have heard that this is already done?), but for us fae the word is a proper noun. You wouldn't name your offspring "Imagine Nation" now would you? Regardless, don't give up. Be a Gatsby, and keep getting by in life. We'll all get there, someday.
  2. Curiosity killed the cat...but power brought it back No one dared to touch the blue veins, snaking through the earth like the roots of some great tree. Those who did suffered, received strange powers that they misused, leading to some chaotic disasters. But I have a theory. You need to touch these veins with a will, with a goal. And your wish shall be granted. Sure, the only proof I have are the fae and dragonfolk, who seem to have powers beyond our comprehension. But they gather around their capital, named Iriverse, a city positioned on top of a large grouping of those veins. If they were harmful, the natives would avoid it. We may be different species, but there are universal things that kill all living creatures, and I do not believe this is one. So I touched it, willing for ice abilities akin to the ones I see the elves use. I hate the heat, you see. It takes a while to get used to your powers, understandably. But the rewards are insane. No human can ever dare to match you, and if they banish you, sure. I had never needed a society; I'm sure those reading who are well educated would understand my stance. Touch these veins with a dream, and come to me, in the hut off the north of Iriverse, by the lake in the Oxwood trees. I expect to see great things from my students.
  3. A Rumpled, Stilted Kin A girl once proclaimed, and quite proudly she did, that she can make gold out of straw. But of course, no one believed her. It was dark magic, it was unnatural, and she was dismissed as a fool. But she had found a vein of mana, a gleaming, glowing strand in the ground, and had picked it up, as it was pretty and she could use it to decorate her home. As she walked through town, mocking voices followed her, and she gripped the stone, angry and upset, wishing, wishing, wishing.... The stone seeped into her hands, and fearful, she ran home, for no one would help the village fool, and laid on her bed of straw, wondering why she made such a boast. She rolled back and forth on her hard bed, unable to sleep, and angry, sat up, about to curse the fates for making her bed so. But the glint of gold caught her attention, and she jumped, surprised. The straw had become gold! Greed crept into her heart, and she grabbed more straw. But it wasn't straw. In her hand was a sold bar of the precious metal, and she started to laugh, her voice getting louder and louder as the reality of her situation set in. She was rich! She could get all that she had dreamed of, all her wants and desires. The story spread that she could truly turn straw into gold, but unlike the adoration she expected, the townspeople shunned her even further. Fake money, witches' gold, they whispered, and refused to take it as currency. A fae nearby heard her plight, and disguised himself as an old man, his voice strained with age. The girl, happy to have a listener, poured her grief out to the fae, but he too was greedy. The fae had magic darker than the one this world gives us, and cursed the girl to become his ervant, so that he could have riches beyond measure.
  4. Left! I've written it in the quote box above the story.
  5. The Golden Hoard and the Three Warnings by Aiden Kinto (I've heard that our books lacked stories, and felt compelled to write some of the older stories, originating from our old Earth and adapted into this new world. For any dragon or fae folk reading, I deeply apologize for any offense. This is an ancient tale, and I wish to write the truth, though it can be at times blunt and rude. But I digress.) There was once a little girl, who lived in a small town. To its back was a vast vast forest, which stretched as far as the eye can see. "Don't wander into the forest, young one," she had been told, but the warning flew straight through her head. She was curious, and she wanted to find out why everyone feared the trees. On a day when her parents were away, she ran off. She ran and ran, dashing to the forest, and the dogs and cats of her town ran with her. She was overjoyed; she had friends! But they bit at her heels and tried to block her way, and angrily angrily she kicked them all away. The dogs and cats knew nothing, she thought, for she was captured by her inquisitiveness. So the animals' distress went unseen by her eyes. Into the shade of leaves she went, jumping over branches and leaping over streams. How cool the air was, how fresh! She could not see why her parents feared the forest. Lights appeared around her, and she was mystified, but they became faeries, armed with tiny spears. "Leave, human," they ordered, but she refused to listen. She swatted them away, like flies, like flies, fleeing into the forest's misty depths. And again, foolishness clouded her vision. The child was tired now, and wandered into a cave. How beautiful it was, how grand, how bright! Beautiful crystals adorned the cave, and in the center, a mountain of gold! She frolicked and danced, for she was rich, and no one could ever order her around if she was a princess. Truly spent now, the girl sat down, on an elegant bench fit for royalty like her. But it bent and broke, and she cursed and kicked at the delicate stool. Fruit was nearby, and she ate some, throwing away ones that disgusted her. Finally, exhausted, she crawled on top of the golden pile, and slept amidst the luxuries she believed was hers. A dragon then entered, unheard by the sleeping girl. It looked at his precious chair, and the food given by his friends. "Someone broke my chair, and ate my food!" It looked around its home some more, for at this point this was clearly a dragon's lair. "Someone disturbed my gold, and she's still sleeping in it!" The dragon roared, and the little girl woke up. Fearfully, she fled, and was never seen from again.
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