When Wraithvine, Lilbit, Gikka, and their immortal dragon friend who's disguised as a little imp, go through a town, they see an unusual sigh. Wraithvine's hat is everywhere in toy shops. But it's not as a hat... but as a stuffed doll for little kids. -- Anon Guest
[AN: Two nitpicks. The Dragon disguised themself as a Gnome, and a hat is more likely to be a dress-up accessory than a stuffie. I carry on.]
The world had changed. That was its nature. It had changed for the better and Bibrid was still getting used to that.
He had been away from society for too long. He still remembered the eras in which Kobolds served Dragons and Elves fought them both. Yet, he was walking in the company of a Kobold and an Elf who were both treating him more like a patient.
And all of them were walking together in a world where Unwelcome and Welcome could at least meet each other with cautious respect. In fact, Welcome and Unwelcome peoples had changed over the eons.
Humans had clawed their way up to some variety of global domination, when they used to be entirely Unwelcome. The Harukh, nomadic warrior tribes used as mercenaries in the ancient wars, were still nomadic warrior tribes, but they were fading from being Welcome and were mostly considered Unwelcome. Depending on the area in which one traveled.
This latest town was one in which Harukh were welcomed and, indeed, some had settled. Set up homes and farms. Made workshops. One was a toymaker, currently sewing patchwork in the sunlight. Two patches of identical cloth were shaped like mittens, and a little shinier than the rest of the patches. They would stand out against the rest of the colours present in the work.
It was going to be a pointy hat. Specifically, a pointy hat for a child. A pointy hat that looked very much like the one Wraithvine habitually wore.
Bibrid looked from the hat in progress, to a child in a similar hat with a towel as a cape and a wooden spoon as a wand.
Wraithvine bit hir lip and shrank in on hirself. "I'm... something of a notable figure. There's a church. And nursery tales. And copper-seat plays." Ze scrubbed hir hand over hir mouth and mumbled, "...and assorted books of varying accuracy."
"Can I have one?" said Gikka.
"Can you afford one?" returned Wraithvine.
"You have a church," said Bibrid.
"I didn't start it," said Wraithvine. "It just kind of happened. You wander the world, doing good things, and it starts becoming... something else. There's also the strange side-effect of nobody recognising me for who I am. It's bizarre."
Gikka returned from the toy store with three Wraithvine Hats. One made for a tiny-sized creature.
Lilbit suffered her hat with a low rumbling near-growl, but also did not claw it off. Gikka wore hers with a grin.
Bibrid held his as if it were something simultaneously sacred and profane. "I... don't know about this..."
"Join the world you walk in," said Wraithvine. "You do a lot as a cleric of the Church of Kind Hands."
"Many of 'em do start with this kind of hat," added Gikka.
[Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash]
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