Sitting somewhere in the delve of a shadow, she watches her little friends play about on her wrist and arm and hand, glove her fingers in a wriggling, writhing sheet of buzzing heat. A smile creases her features, radiant eyes a swirl of abberant color as they gleam and glimmer over her little sweetings.
She's gravely aware when something tainted and sour crosses the threshold of the karst that forms the entrance of her home - not because of the apprehension her visitor feels, for a demon's mind is void to the fair folk, too toxic and polluted with sinful ambition to be understood by one so pure of frollick, but because the flitting, free-range honeymakers that float in the air of the cave like dandelion poms have spread the word.
Milisbhriathrach lowers her palm to a shelf of comb-hive and watches her precious friends files away from her chitinous arms before a mirrorshade drapes over her, hiding black and yellow shell and compound eye and veinous wing in a space out of sight, until its the diminuitive Sweet Bee in place of the creature.
"Not many know that name, let alone say it, even sparser few in here." She can hear the tinkling swinging at the woman's hip. She does not betray how it plays in her thoughts.
Her voice is lilting, and she emerges from the recesses of her home, into the sickly light of the upperworld. "so to what name do you belong?
Sylvia waits, counting the breaths it takes before the figure emerges. Milisbhriatrach was a pretty thing, if a bit smaller than the demon had been expecting. Sylvia knew better than to let her guard down even at the unassuming size. Fae wore illusion magic easier than humans would breath. Syliva could hear the faint buzzing that spread across the entire property, she was surrounded by the monstrous little creatures that answered to the fae and knew she was not safe despite any appearances. One had to be careful when engaging with the fairfolk, for they were never really fair. "It got your attention did it not?" Slyvia mused, refusing to let her smile slip. To Display unease was to loose the invisible war that hung in the air. "I am Sylvia. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Do you have a preference for what I call you?" Sylvia stepped closer as she spoke, holding out her hand.
"Your name came to me as I was inquiring around for an apothecary." Sylvia gestured to the scars that took up residence on the side of her face. The skin still taut from where she had been branded. "Tricky thing Silveriron even after its gone it leaves a nasty bite." Slyvia smile turned into something wild at the memory. Sharp canines gleaming in the sickly light of day. a glimpse of a predator behind the mortal facade.
"I was told that I might be able to trade for something to ease the pain. " Sylvia had heard the other tales, not apothecary but surgeon as well. People taken apart and put back together, not always in the ways they had been expecting.
