"I swear on my scars." He said with finality. There was no stronger promise to make than that, and it showed in his firm expression. "Why yes, exactly like that. I free them from such terrible prisons!" He gave the sprite a coy smile before digging in his bag and pulling out a little cloth wrapped over some strawberries. "You're lucky Gwin didn't touch them." He said, offering them out to him. "You may know me not, but I'm a friend of all spritely creatures. Now, what kind of story do you want?"
"Swears you by scars? Cannot this be. You…" The tiny thing stops, squinting at his features dramatically, face scrunching up and eyes turning into itty bitty slits as it peers up at him. "…you face is hard to see." With the scars along it, this was likely the faes best way to describe the marring of skin.
"Nasty prisons, was trapped us once. Nasty, evil men…" glitter goes everywhere over the branch as it shakes its head, pointed ears perking up as he digs in his pack. The sprite can smell strawberries before it see’s them. "..smells like berries, smells all good, one or six or ten?"
It swoops over, this time much closer to the man. “Gwin this or Gwin that, what it be a Gwin?” Instead of landing on the small wrapped cloth it lands in some grass near, little hands grabbing at the edge of it and tugging, over and over, to pull it closer to itself. “Berries big, all sweet…” it tugs at the scrap dramatically, giggling, “but we fits it in!”
The final tug has it pull closer and the sprite lands atop, peering curiously at him of the mention of stories. “Trade stories fair us start out small, so us can does the same…!” The sprite, having very little tact but boundless curiosity, points at its own face. “Tiny stories and tiny things… who takes its blame?”
