Vera

Where others had glowing curls, Vera had flames and writhing snakes for hair, usually green, but ever changeable with her moods. Instead of soft, pastel petals and gossamer, she wore a dress of felted cobwebs and papery leaves. Vera was not graceful like her kin. She did not float from one flower to another like a gentle breeze, her voice didn’t sound like sunshine or soft rain, and she couldn’t gently wave a delicate hand to effortlessly command objects to move or repair themselves or do any one of a million other things her fellow fairies did almost without thinking. These being the variety of fae to prefer dancing with butterflies and sweetly singing melodies with the birds, rather than tricking mortals into giving up their first-born children, or other such nefarious things.

One thing Vera could do better than the others was mix potions. With her lack of innate magic, she had always needed to find alternate ways of achieving what she set out to do. Unable to compel a broken chair to mend itself with a single touch, she had borrowed carpentry texts from the dwarves to learn this skill with her hands; when the earth wouldn’t acquiesce to her request to move itself, she bribed a mole to dig out a hollow under the ancient oak for her home (moles love crickets); and when her hedgehog companion, Magnus, was sick from eating green acorns, she went to the elves to procure a healing potion.

It was this last event, with the potion, which struck Vera most deeply and inspiredly. Having learned many other skills using her own hands and mind, and ways of leveraging assistance from the forest creatures by this point, she was eager to now learn how to heal without magic. Pacing the halls of the elven alchemist’s laboratory, impatiently checking on him every few minutes and feeling certain she could do this quicker herself if only she knew how, she resolved to do just that as soon as Magnus was well again. She would learn how to do this, just as she’d learned so many other things on her own.

It wasn’t that there was no one among the other fairies who could have magically cured Magnus. Of course there was. Most fairies can manage at least a basic cure or wound repair, with those capable of even more complex healing not being particularly rare. But she didn’t want to ask them. The other fairies were less than accommodating of Vera and her particular quirks, and Magnus wasn’t very good at ingratiating himself to them, either. Being used to almost universal love and adoration from all creatures, other fairies would reach out to Magnus to touch his face or offer him food, and he would routinely snort and snap at them for getting too close. Of course, if he had been in a dire position, Vera would have done her best to conceal her pride and found someone to help, but in this case, she was confident that she could find another way on her own.

While Magnus recovered and Vera played nurse to him, she pored over a stack of alchemical texts that she’d convinced the elven healer to lend her. Having a keen mind for memorising facts and information, Vera quickly began to notice patterns in the potion recipes and ingredient descriptions. Even though there were no indexes or reference guides to confirm the relationships she saw, she felt confident enough in her analyses to start experimenting with her own formulas. Simple things first, like confirming that blueheart mushrooms have the same properties as the much rarer purpleheart, with this assumption being based on the fact that all other pairs of blue and purple fungi named in the texts shared almost identical characteristics to each other.

Next, she moved on to testing the durability of moss agate as an alternative to moonstone, when used as a catalyst for potion activation. Although moonstone was the most common material for this purpose, and she could find no reference in the texts to moss agate whatsoever, Vera felt certain that she could use this stone repeatedly in the same way, where moonstone is almost always consumed by a single potion mixing. The elves’ preference for the illustrious, vaguely luminescent moonstone seemed, to Vera at least, an inefficient bias. Moss agate was humbler, but also hardier and containing more appropriate properties for potion-making. This mottled green variation of quartz has an inherent connection to nature and the earth, with Vera absolutely convinced that this could only be beneficial in creating elixirs of healing or growth, or any manner of other purposes where soothing and nurturing was required.

Before too long, Vera had successfully managed to improve a great number of the potion recipes from the borrowed texts, with some brand-new concoctions also being discovered along the way. Admittedly, though, at least one or two of these inventions owed more to dumb luck than careful and thorough experimentation. Such as the evening when Vera had brought inside a bundle of sweet herbs and hawthorn flowers that had been drying in the sun, unaware that a silken tendril of honeysuckle had found its way down from the oak tree’s trunk and woven itself into the stems she was preparing. When the blend was brewed, her earthen home immediately filled with purple smoke that smelled like rotten pond weed and Magnus’ feet on a hot day. Thankfully, for all its sensory offences, the accidental potion turned out to be a fantastic healing salve, which Vera discovered when she raced to get the smoking cauldron outside, only to spill some on her foot where she’d cut herself the day before. The wound immediately started to tingle and stitch itself together before her eyes. After only a few moments, it was completely indistinguishable from the surrounding skin, all trace of the damage having been reversed.

Partly because of the occasional mishap like that of the stowaway honeysuckle, and partly because her garden was suddenly looking more lush than usual (even featuring some particularly rare varieties not known in the area), some of the locals began to take notice of Vera’s experiments, or rather their effects, anyway. Not the other fairies, of course, but the creatures. Another hedgehog commented on Magnus’s especially lustrous-looking spines after Vera tried out a new hair tonic on him; a family of hummingbirds began visiting regularly to drink the exotic nectar of the dragon’s tongue flowers newly planted along the garden path; and a pair of young mice would often creep up to the window while Vera was brewing, hoping to catch a glimpse of coloured flames or glittering sparks from the more volatile concoctions. Vera pretended not to notice them, but would intentionally mix her recipes with extra flounce and flair when they visited, muttering arcane-sounding gibberish and occasionally adding in something extra like dandelion fluff, harmless, but fierily dramatic when it comes into contact with the steam and smoke from certain blends, like tiny pyrotechnics.

With the Midsummer feast approaching, Vera was hesitantly excited for the chance to wear a beautiful, sparkling gown she’d spent some months on making. While the fairy realm doesn’t experience seasons like you might be used to, with every day being at least mild, if not warm, and no Winter to speak of, they do still see some fluctuation between the new growth of Spring and the falling leaves and harvest of Autumn. Midsummer’s Eve being a special celebration in the middle. Ordinarily, Vera didn’t participate fully in the feast, more often than not, preferring just to stay home. This was largely due to what she still felt was a great embarrassment, many years ago. Whether it was 10 or 100 or 1,000, she couldn’t tell you. Fairies, being immortal, aren’t very good timekeepers. However long it had been, though, Vera still felt the sting of that day almost as sharply as if it was fresh all over again.

In an effort to fit in with the other fairies at the feast one year, Vera had spent months practicing a spell of great concentration. Desperate to change her hair colour to one of her own choosing, rather than allowing its fickle nature to potentially betray her feelings, or at least to tame the fire and conceal the serpents within it, she had eventually managed a warm auburn hue and a texture roughly resembling soft waves. While the snakes had not entirely disappeared, they were somewhat camouflaged, at least. When she got to the feast, other fairies first started giving her sideways glances and double-takes, which turned into hushed whispers as she walked by, eventually progressing to open confrontation, with a fairy named Viola loudly pointing out how ridiculous she thought Vera was for trying to mimic a “normal” fairy. Unable to maintain her concentration on the spell any longer, and already exhausted with the effort of it, Vera’s hair regained control of itself, the flames leaping out in vivid shades of red and orange, belying Vera’s anger and embarrassment, before quickly turning to blues and purples of shame and sadness as she ran from the party.

With Vera’s newfound confidence in potion-making, she had resolved herself to try again this year. She would wear her sparkly dress, but leave her hair alone this time, fashioning her dress to complement its usual green instead. The only embellishment she wanted to make was to add glitter to her hair, making the flames shimmer and gilding the snakes’ scales. This was going to be the tricky part, fire-proof glitter. You might not know this, but pixie dust isn’t inherently magical. The fairy who creates the glittery substance has to imbue it with their own magic. Vera had no trouble creating pixie dust, but as she wasn’t very magical herself, she couldn’t enliven it with any magic, either. It was, however, a fantastic form of glitter for nearly any use you can think of (and Vera could think of plenty). Just not for adding to fire. Adhering it to her dress was fairly simple. Vera was, after all, very crafty and had a good number of clever tricks for making things do what she wanted in a practical sense. Getting it into her hair without it immediately fizzling away was another matter. She toiled endlessly, trying to find the right concoction of ingredients or alchemical solution to change the properties of the pixie dust, to stabilise it or shield it. She even tried talking to her hair, begging it to do what she wanted for once, instead of having such a wilful mind of its own. But it refused, seemingly gleeful each time she applied another handful of glitter, only to be blinked out of existence with a whoosh of the flames.

When Vera had all but given up hope of finding a way to bedazzle her flaming locks, the answer came to her from an unexpected source. In conversation with a dwarf she knew one day, as she was procuring more moss agate from him, the topic of seemingly impossible fire-proof glitter came up. The dwarf told Vera that she could use mica dust for this, instead of pixie dust. Mica was a common enough mineral, he explained, and she wouldn’t need much, so he could easily bring her a handful. He even asked what colour she would like, to which she promptly and enthusiastically responded “gold!”. The next day, the dwarf delivered a small leather pouch containing one of his handfuls of gold mica powder, equalling several of Vera’s hands full and more than enough for her hair.

In her gown of blush pink rose petals, velvety soft lace woven from emerald-green moss, and shimmering dragonfly wings (ethically sourced, of course), all sprinkled with a good bit of glittery pixie dust, and the gold mica powder shimmering in her hair, Vera felt ready for the Midsummer feast. She’d even convinced Magnus to let her dust his spines with some of the mica to match. As they arrived at the edge of the forest clearing where the party was being held, Vera stopped for a moment to smooth her dress. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the tree line and into the soft, dancing light of fireflies and floating candles. No one noticed at first, which was just fine with her, not wanting to attract attention. If anyone had seen her step into the clearing, they likely didn’t recognise her and assumed she was just another fairy, without looking too closely. Vera and Magnus made their way around the inside edge of the trees, towards the nearest refreshments table. Vera chose a glass of pink lemonade, made with actual pink lemons, and just as she was lifting the glass from the table, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Well at least you haven’t tried to change your hair to fit in this time, but isn’t that a bit too much glitter for you, Vera?”

As Vera turned towards the voice, she was met with Viola’s smug, but perfectly proportioned fairy face, framed by hair that resembled a waterfall of sunshine and had never needed any sort of taming or negotiation on the part of its owner.

“I like glitter” was all Vera could manage, barely able to look up from her glass as a small crowd started to gather behind Viola.

“I said I think it’s a bit much, though. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in brown?” Viola seemingly attempting a feigned concern, and the volume of her voice rising as she, too, noticed the attention they were attracting.

“She said she likes glitter, Viola. What’s wrong wi’ that?” came another voice from further back. A fairy named Finn stepped forward to stand beside Vera. “What’s wrong with glitter, Viola?” he repeated. “You’re wearin’ a decent bit of it yerself.”

“Well, nothing” Viola started, caught off guard that she was being asked to defend herself. “I just don’t want Vera to be uncomfortable if she would prefer to be wearing felt.”

“You’re the one making her uncomfortable, I think.” Finn turned to Vera, addressing her directly for the first time. “I don’t mean to speak for ye, but your hair’s gone purple” he said softly. With this, Vera’s face flushed crimson and her hair deepened into burgundy, the snakes all withdrawing their heads between the hushed flames.

Viola, unused to being disagreed with, retorted to Finn’s accusation, sputtering “Wh-who are you to her? Since when do you care?”

Finn turned back to face Viola, cool and calm in contrast to her growing agitation, which threatened to put even her perfect hair out of place. “What’s no’ to care about? Vera’s a fine fairy. She’s always been kind to me, and you always ken what she’s ’tinking because she says it plainly. I like that.” A few quiet murmurs started to rise from the crowd around them. “I never told anyone else, but Vera helped me when I was too stubborn to help m’self. Whilst up a tree across th’ path from her house, I got my wings tangled in a vine and came tumblin’ down, unable to stop my fall. She and Magnus were in their garden and saw the whole sorry thing, but came straight across to untangle me without any judgement or snideness about my stupidity. She took me inside and gave me a healing salve which mended my wings instantly, but unfortunately couldn’t do anythin’ for me damaged pride. All the more pity for that now I’m sharin’ it with all of you.”

“Yeah!” a voice was heard calling out, as the crowd parted for a little wood gnome to make his way through to stand with the pair. Alfie, the gnome, went on “Vera gave me a potion for growing my mushrooms bigger than I’d ever managed on my own before. And I’m a good mushroom grower! But she did better than me, and in less than half the time, too.”

More calls could be heard from the crowd now, starting to overlap each other. “She fixed my wing, too!” “She cooks the best mushroom soup!” “She made tiny fireworks to cheer up my baby!” Viola, enraged and confused (both unfamiliar sensations to her), opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Realising that no one was even looking at her anymore, she huffed loudly and turned away, pushing through the crowd now buzzing with positive energy directed at Vera.

Vera was overwhelmed by the praise she was receiving, unaware that anyone ever even gave her a second thought, let alone such lovely thoughts. Finn, sensing that Vera was becoming overwhelmed altogether, took her by the hand and led her quickly away from the noisy throng of fairies and other woodland people. The crowd barely noticed them leave, enthusiastically sharing their own stories amongst themselves now. Once they’d sat down in a quiet corner of the clearing, Magnus lying down beside Vera’s chair, Finn waited a few moments before speaking. “I hope it was ok that I got you out of there.”

Vera, still humbled and somewhat confused by the unprecedented outpouring of affection she’d just received, didn’t know how to respond at first. Eventually, she managed “Yes, thank you. It was getting a bit much.”

“Can I get you anything?” Finn asked.

Vera looked at him for a moment, as though to respond, then quickly looked away without speaking. After a long while, Vera managed a quiet “Why?”.

Finn, confused, replied, “Ye mean why’d I ask if you be wantin’ somethin’?”

“Why did you help me back there? Why did you stand up for me?”

“Oh. I guess you seemed to need it and before I gave it a second thought, it was done. I meant all I said. Is that alright?”

Looking down at her feet, Vera nodded.

“Plus” Finn continued, “you helped me without hesitation when I needed it. Seems only fair I should do the same.”

Vera looked back up at Finn now, unsure how to respond. After all, how do you tell someone they’re the first person you can remember to show you such natural, unflinching kindness? Finn asked, “Can I walk you home?”. Vera nodded again, still silent, and the three of them walked back to the big oak tree, Magnus following a little way behind the others.

The next morning, as Vera was picking herbs in her garden, a wren dropped by with a note, an invitation to afternoon tea from one of her neighbours. As she was reading it, Alfie appeared at the garden gate, knocking on the gate post to announce himself. He’d come by with a basket of the new variety of mushroom he’d been working on growing, to see if she’d like some for her potions or cooking. No sooner had Alfie left than a pair of fairies passed by, eager to tell Vera about the painting group they’d started. Apparently inspired by her own knack for doing things with her hands, they’d wanted to try doing something without magic themselves. “We meet every week by the pond, and we’d love to have you join us if you’re keen.” said one, eagerly.

That afternoon, there was a knock at her door. Vera went to open it hesitantly, unsure who else could be dropping by today. As the door swung open, she was met with Finn’s smiling face. “Would you like tae take a walk down to th’ the meadow to watch the bumblebees?” “Yes, please” Vera answered, and stepped out to meet him, closing the door behind her.