Darkest Days, Brightest Nights

Finally! Here's my debut story. It'll be in the range of 11-15 chapters long, and I think you'll all find it somewhat different from the standard Felarya story. I wrote the first chapter while listening to "Two Plus Two Equals Five" by Star One on loop, and if you know that song, you'll know this won't be a cute predator happily roaming through the jungle snacking on careless adventurers. I've put a lot of thought into this, and I hope it shows.
Here's chapter one. Not sure how consistently I'll be able to update, but I'll try. Enjoy!


Andrassla was careful. She was careful to keep her coils tight around her prey, but not so tight as to squeeze the life from her. She was careful to find a small nook in the protruding roots of a gnarled old tree, obscured by ferns and moss, where the dark green of her tail and the brown of her hair would blend in. That way, she could feed and digest in relatively safety. She had wandered too far from home- she was not careful enough about that- but it wasn't the first time she'd made that mistake. She could find her way back easily enough.

The naga's blue-green eyes, highlighting her tan, stoic face, looked over her catch: an elf-girl who had strayed from the group she was travelling with. The elf-girl stared back with wide, fearful eyes, lips quivering and lithe body fruitlessly struggling. Andrassla hadn't eaten in days, and the girl's foolishness came as a happy accident to her. She never was much of a huntress; her two brothers handled that for her, although she was competent enough to catch the odd duiker or tiny. More often than not, she protested being such a burden on them and contented herself eating the fruits and foliage grown in their village.

"C-Can't..." The elf-girl struggled to speak. "Can't we talk about this?" she finally managed to say.

"No." What was there to talk about? Andrassla was about to tighten her coils when her prey spoke again.

"W-Wait!" she squealed, cringing.

Andrassla raised an eyebrow. "For what?" Her patience was wearing thin.

"For me," a matured woman's voice announced abruptly behind the naga. Andrassla whipped around. Sure enough, a woman knelt on the lip of the nook of roots, watching intently with magenta eyes. The woman was clearly a fairy, as indicated by her moth's wings folded against her back and moth's antennae waving lazily on her forehead. She was a meld of black and white and red: her wings, antennae, and long and straight hair were black. Her skin was so pale as to almost be snow white. The long, slightly ragged dress she wore was blood red. There was a faint smile on her lips, looking down on Andrassla with focused eyes. "You're competent at hiding, little serpent, but you didn't honestly expect to hide from a forest full of my kind, did you?" Her voice and face were both adult for a fairy- she was not a playful girl, as most all fairies seemed to be, but rather distinctly a woman, collected and professional. Her small smile and restrained, business-like tone of voice, how she knelt down on one knee rather than sat with her legs dangling off the monstrous tree root, elaborated this. She wore a leather belt with a dozen different pouches and trinkets hanging from it. She seemed to glow faintly in the midday sunlight filtering down through the forest canopy.

Now Andrassla joined the elf in being afraid. "H-Hello...?" She tried to hide her fear with a stiff wave of her hand and a forced greeting.

The fairy nodded her head. She looked almost sickly, judging from her pale skin and scrawny body. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not going to eat you. Eating other predators is something of a taboo with me, you see. If I had intended to eat you, I'd have done it on sight."

Andrassla wasn't entirely sure if she believed that, but she pushed herself to utter a stunted "Thanks" anyway.

"No, love," the fairy continued, her mellow, almost blank gaze wandering to the elf, "I'm more interested in what you've got there."

"But elves are my favorite," the naga said with a subdued hint of defiance.

"And my favorite is beauty." The fairy leapt down into the nook and approached Andrassla, her eyes set on the elf-girl, who stared back with fearful, tear-filled eyes. "The prettier, the better, I find, and they don't come much prettier than her. Look at her: a near-flawless example of Elvish beauty! Long hair so fair it's nearly white as snow... Ears so long and pointed... High cheekbones... Such a slender, lithe body, and such a delicate, fair face, with such bright eyes... I must have her, little serpent. And I'm willing to trade for her."

"Trade...?"

"Yes, trade." The fairy reached into one of her pockets, and pulled out a human man, shrunken down to about three inches and apparently unconscious. "I can return him to full size. He'll be more filling than the girl."

"But he won't taste nearly as good," Andrassla countered, her confidence steadily returning. "I'm not as obsessed with taste as some, but I do take it into account somewhat."

The fairy nodded, then reached back into the pocket and pulled out another human, a woman this time, looking slightly older than the man, also unconscious. Both humans looked dressed for a lengthy expedition in the perilous jungle. "Two for one. Eat one now, save the other for later."

"While the one I'm saving for later is still shrunken?"

"I could deliver the other one to you later and return her to full size then. Whatever arrangements you need made, I can make them."

"How about you have you humans, and I have my elf," Andrassla barter impatiently. The elf-girl had lowered her head, sobbing noiselessly, having resigned herself to the fact that no matter how this deal panned out, she would be eaten either way.

The fairy sighed. "Are you certain? No deal? Not at all?"

"No deal," Andrassla confirmed.

The fairy's smile dissipated instantly and she turned her now baleful gaze at Andrassla. The two locked eyes. "I'm trying to do a service to the world," she said with a tone that was hard to read- Was it angry? Contemptuous? Saddened?

"What are you talking about?" Andrassla was becoming nervous again. She saw something in the fairy's eyes. Something vaguely... Wrong. Just wrong.

"We live in a world of depravity and cannibalism and hideousness," the fairy began to explain with a strangely dissonant calm. "It all looks pretty when viewed externally, but beneath that veneer is ugliness, and almost only ugliness. However, there are small pockets of beauty, scattered her and there, clinging to life among the brutes and killers."

"Brutes and killers? What-? But... This is just how things work here! Do you not know that-?"

The fairy cut off her off, growing angry. "Brutes and killers. That's what you are, that's what I am, that's what most of us here are. That's how it works, yes, and whether that's how it should work or not is not my place to say. However, brutish and murderous and repulsive as I am, I still see the need to preserve whatever beauty there is here. That girl you have there is one such fragment of beauty that was fortunate to be found by me before it could be destroyed."

The elf-girl looked up, a glimmer of hope in her reddened eyes.

The fairy was shaking slightly now. "There will be no more negotiations. You will give her to me."

Andrassla swallowed, but shook her head defiantly. "I found her first, so she's mine."

"This is your last chance, little serpent. Give her to me." The fairy was vibrating with rage now.

A chill shot up Andrassla's spine. "Listen, I'm sorry, but she's mine! Now, I don't want any trouble, but..." She felt something cold wrapping itself around her waist. But the fairy's hands had not moved. Her coils were becoming loose around the elf as something tightened itself around her, starting to drag her away from her prey! She writhed and struggled, trying to escape whatever was now restraining her entire body, a serpent ironically caught in the coils of something else! As she was pulled out of her cover and pinned to the forest floor outside, unable to move any part of herself, she glimpsed a dark, organic brown slide over her eyes. Then, darkness.

Indeed, Andrassla had not been careful enough.


The fairy embraced the girl, holding her gently, laying a kiss atop her head, whispering comforts into her hear as she was wracked by sobs. "Th-Thank you," the girl cried, burying her face in her savior's breasts. The fairy smiled, raising one hand from the girl's waist to plop the two still-incapacitated humans into her mouth and swallow them. Her prize didn't notice. She then used her now free hand to stroke the girl's soft white hair.

"You're safe now, love," the fae woman cooed warmly, like a mother consoling her own child. Neither of them paid any mind to the naga's muffled screams outside of the nook. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you. I'm going to take you home with me. You'll be safe there."

"But..." The elf-girl swallowed hard. "But I want to go back to my home."

"You'll be safer with me," the fairy insisted. "No one else can appreciate you like I can. No one else can see the value of your life. They'll either exploit you or destroy you. No, you must come with me." The girl tried to protest further, even as the world rose up and grew around her. Once she had been reduced to a sufficiently diminutive size, the fairy carefully picked her up by the neck of her shirt and gently dropped her into another of her pockets.

Next, the fairy went outside, to the one who had tried to deny her her quarry, and stood over the moaning, rugose thing that was once a naga. She freed it of its bonds, which evaporated into a blackish powder, than shrunk it down and placed it in yet another separate pocket. Her duty done, she spread her wings and took flight.

Well done! Very interesting start, I can't wait to see what she is up to.
I think your fairy character is refreshingly different, a mature fairy that wears clothes? And her motives seem very different than the usual...
Looking forward to more!

It's starting nicely ^^
The fairy definitely come out as looking twisted, imprevisible and dangerous. This makes me really wonder what is going to happens next and if that Elf girl won't regret Andrassla somehow ^^;
My only remark is I'm not sure into what Andrassla was turned ?

Karbo wrote:

It's starting nicely ^^
The fairy definitely come out as looking twisted, imprevisible and dangerous. This makes me really wonder what is going to happens next and if that Elf girl won't regret Andrassla somehow ^^;
My only remark is I'm not sure into what Andrassla was turned ?

Thanks to you and Archvile! Glad to hear that it seems to be off to a good start.
As for what happened to Andrassla, that will be revealed much later on in the story. I don't want to spoil too much, though, since it is somewhat important to the plot what happens to predators who turn down this fairy's deals, so that's all I'll say for now.

I've hit a bit of a snag- I've got diploma exams coming up soon, so I've got to study quite a bit. Updates will be pretty slow for a while. Chapter 2 might not come for a few more days. Sorry about that.

Just thought I should give you guys a head's up.

That may well be one of the most disturbing Felaryan characters to date. Well imagined, well written; I'll be interested to read more.

Good luck with your exams in the meantime!

Here's the second chapter I managed to write up in between study times. My exams will be over soon, and I'll be able to update more often after that.

Is it okay for me to drop an f-bomb every now and then in a Felarya story?


I looked into the shimmering spring green of her eyes, framed by her long waves of ginger, which were blown about by the cool wind coming off the ocean. She wore a pretty yellow summer dress- she always wore such pretty dresses. Her face, forearms, and shoulders were covered with freckles- everyone always said how unappealing they found freckles, but her's only added to her beauty.

This is the girl I have loved for a year now. I saw in her eyes now that she no longer loved me. I swallowed hard, knowing what hid behind her delicate, comforting smile.

"It's a nice day today, isn't it?" she asked me in a friendly rhetoric.

"It's always a nice day here," I replied, managing a smile. The salt on the air stung my noise, but I enjoyed the sensation.

"How are you?"

"You know how I am," I said as amicably as I could. "There's something you want to say, isn't there? Please say it."

She was silent for a moment. In that moment, her smile dissolved into a frown. Her face twisted into despair and bewilderment. "I can't do this any more."

"What can't you take?"

"Don't try to play dumb." Her voice was stern now, frustrated. "You know what it is."

And indeed, I did. We stared into each other's eyes for a long while- I don't remember how long it was. It might not have even been a while. But it felt it. I leaned in to kiss her one last time, but she backed out of my reach. Then, she turned and walked away. I watched her go for a while. Then, I too turned, and wandered away from the burning wreckage on the beach that was all that was left of our love.


Nalea awoke in bed alone. However, her housemate's scent was still strong on the the dishevelled sheets and empty pillow next to her. The fabric was still warm. The room was dark, the door shut and window blinds drawn; only a small sliver of sunlight came in from under them. The inu was sprawled out under the covers, half of her falling off the bed. Speaking of beds, she needed another one- the bedroom was big enough for two, and it was terribly awkward sharing a bed with her housemate.

After a few minutes of groggy immobility, she forced herself up into sitting position and stretched, yawning loudly as she did so. She caught a scent wafting in from under the door- bacon. Dukier bacon. And milk and fruit. Her bushy, upwards-curving white tail began to wag. She licked her lips, anticipating the meal.

Then she recalled something.

Dammit.

Nalea got up, still a little stiff, and walked to the bedroom door. She one hand over her eyes, to brace herself for the sunlight that was about to flood over her face, and opened the door with her other. Even with her eyes squinted and her face protected, the sudden burst of light still stung and blinded her for a moment or two. The scents all crammed themselves into her nose and sent her empty belly on a tirade. Before long, the mahogany of the kitchen walls and tile floor became visible, and the small wooden table with the four minimalist chairs followed, before her housemate materialized into clarity.

"Erin," Nalea said with mock sternness as she leaned against the door frame, "It's my turn to make breakfast this morning, innit now?" Isn't it, not Innit. Even after all these years in Negev, Nalea still spoke in her thick Zhrodrashian drawl.

Erin looked up from the sizzling bacon and over her shoulder at the inu with a girlish smile. She wore her dark blue housecoat, a stark contrast to her radiant golden curls cascading down them. Her hair did match her skin however, which had also been tanned to a golden hue. Her eyes were a deep brown- Nalea frequently watched with amusement as men became lost in the human girl's eyes. She couldn't blame them, of course- Erin was nothing short of drop dead gorgeous.

"I know, I know... But remember how it turned out the last time you made breakfast?" Erin asked teasingly.

Nalea sighed and went about setting the table, removing two frumpy cloth placemats and two pairs of knives and forks from their drawers. "It's just that I'm a bit worried about you," she admitted, trying to lock her grey eyes with Erin's. The human seemed strangely reluctant to make eye contact, however. "You work so much. All the time, really. If you're not working the shop, you're working on your carving. If you're not doing that, you're working on that novel of yours. You know I support you in all of it and I'll always be there to help you if you need it, but you need to take a break sometimes, Erin. And I don't mean by going down to that freak pub in the slums to-"

"They're not freaks, Nalea," Erin abruptly corrected her with an angry outburst, finally locking their eyes with a stern glare in hers.

The kitchen was silent for a moment, save for the sizzling of the bacon. Both women were still. Finally, Nalea said, "You're right, I'm sorry." She then finished putting the utensils in their places and went about getting the plates and napkins. "We ought to get another bed. Just a small one, nothing fancy, but I feel a bit uncomfortable sharing a bed with another woman for so long."

Erin, now depositing the cooked bacon to small dish bedded with paper towel, nearly dropped one of the meat strips from the tongs she was using the grab them. The bacon was no doubt slippery from the grease, of course; Nalea made nothing of it. "Sure. Of course," Erin agreed. She spoke with her own accent, one that was similar to Nalea's but not as thick or as robust. Everyone in Negav had some sort of accent, it seemed; not surprising, since everyone in Negav seemed to be from somewhere other than Negav. The blinds were closed, but already the streets of the Middle Tier outside sounded to be bustling. Nalea was somewhat thankful for that; she had neglected to put on her own house coat, and so now stood in the kitchen cutting up the last intact fragment of a peeled apple in her undergarments.

They always talked about their dreams over breakfast. Erin went first. "I dreamt I was an inu, like you," she began. Nalea's triangular ears perked up at this. That was an interesting picture. "The same kind as you, I think, with the same ears and tail. I woke up and it was a normal day, except you weren't there. And I was an inu. I don't know why, but for some reason I found it weirder that you were gone than me suddenly being an inu." She paused momentarily to put another piece of apple in her mouth. She continued talking as she chewed it. "Anyway, I went into the kitchen and..." She stopped.

"Don't tell you you forgot the rest," Nalea jokingly pleaded. She had already finished eating, and her belly was tight and distended. A small belch escaped her lips. Erin got an amused look on her face like she wanted to crack a joke, but thought better of it. She'd already cracked that joke, quite some time ago; she had giggled and said, "You're not so different from them, you know."

Erin's near-perpetual smile widened. "I remember the whole thing," she teased playfully. "But it gets pretty awesome. I don't want to give it away just yet."

Someone who didn't know Nalea would think she was upset at this and disinterested in the conversation proceeding it, due to the absence of a smile on her face. However, Erin knew better than that. The inu replied, "Come on, not even a hint?"

Erin thought for a moment, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. Finally, she offered, "Tell me your dream, and I'll tell you a bit more of mine."

Nalea nodded. "I dreamt of a friend," she began, "from back in Zhrodrashia. I remembered the last time I saw him. Nothing special, just the memory of the last time we met."

"Ooo," Erin cooed mischievously. "Pray tell, who was this strapping sire?"

Nalea chuckled, although she still denied herself a smile. "He was a guy a met a few times and found I liked. Ugly bloke, too, like a neko used his face for a scratching post."

"Mmhm." Erin wasn't buying it.

"So what about the rest of your dream?" Despite her plain face's neutral expression, Nalea's voice expressed sincere curiosity.

"I went into the kitchen," Erin continued with enthusiasm, becoming incredibly animated with her facial expressions and hand gestures. She paused for dramatic effect- Nalea's ears perked up again. "...And everything... Was white. White like snow." Nalea felt a twinge of disappointment at that, since snow what was not so far a cry from the warm browns and faded reds that colored the kitchen already, but she kept that hidden. She remained invested in Erin's story. It was about to get good, she could feel it.

Silence. Erin smile widened even further.

"...And?" Nalea asked.

"I'll tell you the rest later."

Nalea smiled at last and laughed aloud. Erin joined in. "Bloody hell," she managed to say once her laughter subsided "I'll do the dishes, at least let me do that for you." She stood and patted her bloated stomach. I don't think I'll ever grow out of the habit of eating as much as I can for fear of not eating again for days, she thought disdainfully feeling her belly's weight. "You think you can manage without me for an hour or so? I don't think I'll be of much use until this is gone."

Erin sighed in mock scorn. "This is why we can't have nice things," she pretended to bemoan. Then she was amicable again. "I can handle it. Things don't get busy until noon this time of year anyway." She never specified why, but Nalea considered the why's of such things insignificant anyway. Normally Erin would giggle after saying something like that. However, she was currently silent. Nalea could guess what that meant.

"To Zhijyr?" the inu asked.

Erin sighed. "If you want a bed all to yourself, yeah. And if I want to keep the shop going smoothly, then again, yeah."

Nalea nodded. To Zhijyr, then.


Wood chips and shavings. Crumpled staff paper singing songs too awful to be heard. Food scraps that not even Nalea's ravenous belly had any room for. All these and more were stuffed into a monstrous black bag that weighed nearly twenty pounds once full. All in all, a pretty typical dump run for the Zeiraff/Johannsen house. Nalea's first task of the day was to dispose of the garbage. Normally, she'd take it to the dump in the Lower Tier. But every so often, she'd take it somewhere quite different. The smell of the trash curled her nose, but she could bear it. After all, it would give her a chance to run.

Wind rushing through her hair and caressing her face, the burn of exertion in her legs, her heart racing until it beat like a drum in her chest; Nalea lived for these moments. Somehow, the weight of the garbage bag on her back, slung over her should and held in a death grip by one hand, only added to it. The streets were not so crowded yet; it was still fairly early. She didn't have to weave out of many people's way, nor did many have to duck out of hers. The sun blanketed the Middle Tier of Negav in warmth, and the scents of food and fabric and wood and sweat filled the air. Nalea smiled; this would be a good day.

At last, she arrived, panting, at her destination in the Underground. It was not nearly so pleasant here. As she came down the stairs into the slums, it felt as though the eyes of the world began to glare at her. The Underground was the home of the desperate and the dispairing. This was a place of dark and grime. There were no houses here, only slapped-together shacks and hovels. Children cried and men bellowed. And the eyes stared. On those dirt-caked faces Nalea could see many things: Envy. Sadness. Anger. Contempt. And most prominently, hate. No one spoke to her, but their eyes said everything for them: Mutt. Mongrel. Sub-human. Freak. She was used to being called such things, so she took no offense. She would not stay long.

While the Underground in general smelled horrible, this wide, rust-covered metal dome churned her stomach and burned her nose. Black pulsating moss covered its base. The pale green metal was dripping with strange acrid liquids running down the curved walls. Odd clanking and shrieking noises emanated from inside. Nalea was glad she only had to come here infrequently. She slung her bag down onto the dirt-covered pavement next to the triangular door, and then wiped the sweat from her forehead. She was a fine specimen of Zhrodrashian inu young adulthood. She was tall and toned, with tanned skin. Her eyes, alive and warm despite their grey color, expressed things no words could. Her hair, short and wavy, and her fur both had a silvery evening snowfall color and luster, and were soft to the touch. Her body, however, was hard with muscle, which, although it did not detract from the feminimity of her lithe figure, was well defined all over her. Her face, though a bit plain, was handsome enough to attract the attention of the sires of Negav. Clad in leather sandals and a baggy teal tanktop-and-shorts combination, Nalea was no dainty flower, but rather a proud amazonian beauty.

Bracing herself for the unpleasantness of what she was about to walk into, Nalea picked the trash bag back up and knocked on the door, which slid down out of her way, allowing her into the putrid darkness within. She stepped into.

The interior of the structure was a wide square room with a low ceiling, lit only by a few faintly glowing blue lights lining the walls, and lower on the walls were dozens of drawers and cupboards. Oddly-shaped guns and blades and devices were fastened to the ceiling, crafted from rubbish and scrap. The stench filth and decay of the moss and viscous goo and trach covering the floors nauseated Nalea. She covered her nose with one hand as she approached the slowly twitching misshapen heap in the center of the room. "Zhijyr?" she called out.

"Zhijyr hears you," a toneless voice like the croaking of a monstrous frog replied, as the heap stood up on four bulky, jagged limbs. A small, boxy head on a serpentine neck looked over the bulbous shoulders. "What do you bring Zhijyr today, pretty wolf?"

Nalea had never seen all of Zhijyr before, only his outline. She couldn't even tell what color he was due to the dim blue lighting, nor could she even make out his scent over the stink of the filth he surrounded himself with. His voice alone sent shivers down her spine, and the sight of him stood her hair on end. All in all, he frightened her. Hell, he terrified her. So far as anyone she'd spoken to knew, he and his dome suddenly just appeared in the Underground one day about twenty years ago, and began making strange weapons and equipment from trash and selling them in the black market. Before long, he had earned enough to begin paying people to bring him their garbage. She could hardly imagine how Erin first encountered him, and Erin never spoke of it. As for what he was, she thought she once heard him refer to himself as a "Gazirit", whatever that was. "Got some trash here for you. About a week's worth," she replied.

A hacking, wheezing sound filled the room- excited laughter, so far as Nalea could tell. "Good, pretty wolf, Zhijyr likes what you bring him. Leave it there, and Zhijyr will pay you." As Nalea set the bag down, Zhijyr walked his half-dragging, half-jerky shuffling towards one of the drawers, pulled it open with a scrawny arm situated somewhere on his upper torso, and scooped two handfulls of coins into a cheap cloth bags with a shovel-like forelimb. Tying the top closed, he tossed to Nalea- she caught it, and immediately turned to leave. As she waited for the door to open enough for her to go through, she heard Zhijyr rasp, "Come back soon, pretty wolf. Zhijyr likes you very much." She resisted a shudder and she stuffed the bag of coins into her pocket.

Now outside the dome, she couldn't bear to be here a moment longer. She tried to break back into a run, only to find her path blocked by a trio of ragged, dirty nekos. She wasn't surprised by them- she had smelled them from afar and then heard them once they'd gotten closer. "Can I help you?" she asked, completely calm.

"What the hell is this yuppy mutt doing in our territory?" one of the nekos growled. They were all male, all dressed in filth-stained jackets and jeans- probably stolen, as such modern attire was a rare sight on nekos. Notches were missing from their ears and their hair was dishevelled and greasy. Their eyes were all narrowed and bloodshot, like craggy windows into hell.

"I dunno. What are you doing here, mutt?" another asked her directly.

"What do you thiink I'm doing here? It's a dump run, obviously." Nalea cocked her head to the side. "Do you three harrass everyone who comes to drop off their garbage?"

"No," the third one answered. "Just yuppy mutts like you. We don't like mutts."

Nalea had heard this all before, and she'd heard it done better, as well. She remained stoic. "Don't you three have jobs?"

"Do we look like we have jobs?" one of them hissed.

"You look like you should get jobs."

"Listen, bitch, we have to crawl around in the gutters and fight tooth and nail every damn day to make ends meet," the second one raged, shaking with anger. "And here you come, a useless damn mongrel, and you're all clean wearing your nice sandals, getting paid more in five minutes than we do in a year!" He spat onto her tanktop. "You've got no idea what we go through."

That was it. Nalea grabbed the neko by his throat and pulled him close, bringing his filthy face so close to hers that she wanted to vomit from the stench of his breath. "I do know," she growled, her voice a low, wrathful rumble. The other two nekos were too stunned to move, and the one she'd grabbed weakly struggled in her grip- she was taller than him, and strong enough to hold him still. She stared right into his widening eyes, her heart thudding faster and harder in her chest, and anger welling up like a volcano within her. "I do know what you go through, because I went through it too. You listen to me: I've been called a mongrel all my life, so long that I don't even care any more. But don't you fucking dare tell me that I don't know what it's like to struggle. I do know." She paused, letting her words set in (and giving herself a moment to calm down). The neko stared back, a semblance of understanding in his eyes. She pushed him away. "Piss off."

The neko was off instantly, calling his two comrades with him. Nalea stayed there, closing her eyes and regulating her breathing to calm herself down. Let it go. She stayed there several moments, until she was serene again. Then, she started on her way; Erin would wonder what had kept her.

Well, you get the Lower Tier off, but at least you admitted your mistake and submitted yourself before the Gods of Research. Perhaps this Canon Tyrant will find it in his heart to forgive you...

Which I will, because this is awesome. It is just great to be seeing a story like this. You have good description, while still keeping pacing tight and not forgetting good character interaction and development. All in all, a very solid work.

And sure, say Fuck as much as you want. If there was ever a world to warrant cursing, it was this one.

Oh dear, I thought that I had commented on the first part of this already... It seems that my post did not make it through my intermittent internet connection. As others have said; the first part is intriguing.

As for the second; yes, the lower tier is lower but it's not slums. If you're looking for a slumlike area, the Negav underground, especially the pit is where you'll find it.

Your note on the accents is something I also like, with all the people coming and going Negav would be a linguistic nightmare, or deam; depending how you look at it. There would also be recognisably Negavian accents as Negav has a large permanent population.

Lastly; you might want to recheck your work after you use the autospellcheck; it has a habit of changing "Negav" to "Negev."

Thanks for the feedback, everyone. I'm kind of baffled at myself for not researching the Lower Tier more. As I said, I'll get on fixing that tonight or tomorrow. Evidently I was very confused as to what "Lower" implied.

Nice chapter
I liked your description and I think having Nalea rather casual at home, and then going into the slums was a nice counterpoint, showing several facettes of her personality. It was well written and pleasant to follow. I'm curious to see more ^_^

Oh bugger

So there was a literature event going on in my town recently where a group of authors came and hosted a series of reading and workshops to help people improve their writing. I took the first two chapters of an original story I've been working on off and on for a few months now to a one-on-one session with one of the authors. He loved it, and gave me a list of things I could add and change to improve the chapters, plus he wants to see the third chapter before he leaves town on the 18th.

This is a great thing for me in a number of ways: this particular author is in with a few publishing companies and is willing to help me revise, edit, and publish my manuscript once it's been finished. He could help me get published sometime in the near-ish future. All I have to do is finish the manuscript in a fairly timely fashion, let him read it, and then revise it based on his suggestions, and he'll help me out getting a publishing deal. This is huge for me, and I'm extremely excited about it.

However, this has the downside of me not having as much time to work on this story here. Updates will come very slowly, maybe only a new chapter every other week, so I really hope no one is waiting diligently for the latest installment of DD,BN.

I'm so sorry, but I've got a great opportunity here that I don't want to miss. I WILL still be working on this, though, and I do intend to eventually finish it, but, well, this isn't the story that could get me published.

What kind of excuse is that? Get back to writing!

More seriously, that's good news indeed! Good luck with getting published.

hehe I'm happy to hear that ^^ Best of luck to you ! Follow you dreams that's all that matter in life ^_^

DEAR GOD I'M BACK
SWEET JEEBUS, AN UPDATE TO DD,BN?
SURELY THE END TIMES ARE UPON US

Seriously, though, finally got some time to get back to work on this story. I've gone back and given chapter two a major rehaul, introducing a new character who'll play a bigger role in the eventual sequel to this story here (yes, I'm barely through this one and I've already started planning a sequel- I like to plan ahead). Now, I gotta ask... He won't do much in this story, and he won't be doing anything too crazy in part two, either, but is Zhijyr too weird? Is it okay for me to use him in Felarya, even if he just stays in his bunker in the Underground? I feel I ought to ask for the okay to keep using this guy in this setting, even if he'll only be confined to a very small part of it.

Anyway, chapter three should be up by this friday. I'll have quite a bit of time to work on it this week, so I ought to be able to meet that deadline.

Amazing. Truly amazing.

Alvis almost thought his time in Felarya had all been a dream, then an awful nightmare, then a dream again. But it had all been real. And it had all been amazing; it still was. Regretfully, though he initially came to study the fauna and environment, those had proven too dangerous to examine up close. He’d have to do so from afar, missing all the exciting little details as he observed this untamable world of savage, incomprehensible wonder through a telescope lens. Nekomura seemed a good place to set up camp- a safe haven immersed in the wilds, where he could stand on the high branches of the trees that helped to form the settlement and look out on the rest of Tolmeshal Forest. The locals were slow to accept him, of course, as an elf had little place in a village built for nekos, but after a few months they came to terms with his residency easily enough.

Alvis took a particular interest in the fairies. Truly frightful little creatures, to be sure, but they did not seem to be beyond reason- it was just a very peculiar sort of reason that they subscribed to. He watched their habits and interactions as closely as he could, whenever he could, in hopes of deciphering a way to befriend one. If he managed that, she could protect him if he embarked into the forest. But first and foremost, he’d have to figure out a way to get off the menu…

“Alvis?” a sweet, gentle purr of a girl’s voice called out behind him- right behind him. His leaf-shaped ears were quite fine-tuned, but he heard no sign of her approach. He was used to that by now.

“Malka,” he replied with a wide smile, closing up his worn bronze telescope and returning it to the pocket of his practical brown coat. He turned around to face her, and even still, after these many weeks, he was taken aback by her beauty. She was only a bit shorter than him (Alvis was rather petite himself), but her lithe, toned body and elegant, graceful posture made her the picture of a woman of confidence and strength. Her skin, smooth and soft, was a lovely mocha color, and her long wavy hair was a cascade of black clouds. Her eyes were so deep and alive and wise, so much pain and love and sorrow and joy in that pale green. The feline ears atop her head and the long, graceful tail swaying slowly back and forth behind her made her even more exotic, complementing her lioness profile and strong yet gentle face. She wore a long crimson skirt, a cloth of identical color wrapped around her chest, and a bracelet of yellowish leaves and jagged runes of polished iron.

“You’ve been up here a long time,” she said with a shred of concern. “I worry sometimes. You know what’s out there, why are you so curious about it?” She put her arms around him and held him lightly, resting her head on his shoulder. He returned the embrace, laying a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I’m a naturalist,” he explained. “I came here to observe and study what inhabits this world, and that’s what I intend to do.”

She sighed, “So stubborn.” She nuzzled his neck- very affectionate, these nekos were. She slipped out of the embrace and began to back away, holding his hands to pull him along with her. “Come down from here,” she urged, a playful smile on her face. “You’ve done enough research for this morning.” There was little use in trying to refuse Malka- once she set her mind on something happening, it would happen, period. Chuckling a bit, he gave her his full co-operation.

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“Are you missing Hallo yet?”

Malka huffed. “There’s not a moment that goes by where I don’t miss him. I’m worried sick about him, Alvis.” Hallo, her younger brother, had left Nekomura on an expedition to a remote part of the forest with several other, more experienced nekos a few days ago. “Hallo has always been the frail one in our family.”

Alvis could relate to that; he was the runt of his family, and not only in terms of size. He had always been scrawny, with short red hair that refused to be groomed and wide, inquisitive silver eyes. The dull-colored pants and tunic he wore now were at least two sizes too big for him. While his four brothers went on to become lords and moguls and renowned sages, he took on the suicide mission of being a naturalist in Felarya. He received little recognition for the few papers about the dynamics of interaction between individuals in giant predators (a topic few cared to know when evading them was more important than how they regarded each other) he did get published in Negav and he had little to work with to write much more, given his inability to actually enter the environment he was studying. And he wouldn’t have it any other way; not now that he had Malka, at least. As they walked the unpaved street, lined with quaint and primitive yet charming marketplaces and houses, some on the ground and some in the tall trees growing sporadically throughout the village, they did not hold hands- that would not have been taken especially kindly to. But they stayed by each other’s side.

All those odd yet enticing scents of spices and herbs and cooked meat in the air, the chorus of alien mewling tongues, the art and music and culture of the many tribes and families sharing Nekomura, the rustic feel of it all, Alvis loved it here. He was immersed in another world with plenty to study, to interact with and learn from.

And the best part, Malka was there to help him.

They wandered the settlement rather aimlessly. Did they really need an aim at all times? Alvis used to think they did. But Malka convinced him otherwise. The early morning sunlight shone pleasantly down onto them and lit the clear sky brilliantly- at least, so far as Alvis could see it did, as the sky was somewhat obscured by the vibrant green of the treetops and the earthy brown of their immense trunks. A cool wind breezed lightly through the streets and played with Malka’s hair. Honestly, why hurry towards some abstract goal? It was better to allow oneself to appreciate moments like these.

Suddenly, Malka stopped, her ears perking up. The small grin that had been on her lips as they wandered widened. There was a glint in her eyes, a glint Alvis not only recognized but disliked. “Wait here,” she said as she ducked off into a mess of bulging, snaking tree roots. Alvis did not wait- he was off immediately after her. He caught her in the act, kneeling in the bushes, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face with one hand as she grinned a hungry predator’s grin at the struggling, whimpering tomthumb she had caught by the shirt neck in her other hand.

“I don’t think you thought this out very well, little one,” she said quietly to her catch, a raven-haired boy in bright robes made of what looked like a pair of socks. Licking her lips, she opened her mouth and was just about to lower her panicking victim into her waiting maw.

“Malka, stop that,” Alvis said sternly, looming over her and casting his disappointed gaze down on her.

The neko only made a disappointed noise and fell onto her back, looking back up at him in annoyance. She dropped her catch onto her bare, rumbling stomach and pinned him there with her pointer finger. “A tomthumb knowingly and willingly infiltrates a community where his kind are considered a delicacy, and you don’t want me to eat him?” she asked only half-jokingly. “But wouldn’t that be conducive to that natural selection jargon you go on about sometimes?” Her stomach growled again, more loudly this time. “That’s a rather compelling argument, don’t you agree?” Her predacious smile returned and she began to slowly drag the squirming tomthumb up her midriff, towards that cruel carnivore smirk.

“You know how I feel about you doing this,” Alvis bemoaned, sitting down next to her and keeping his voice down a bit, as to not draw attention to this. “They’re people, Malka, people with families and homes and aspirations just like you or I.”

“Mmhm.” Malka had heard this before. “A person who my natural instincts tell me belongs in my belly. Besides, why don’t you go out there and tell the predators who would love to come in here and devour us all that we’re people like them?”

“I can’t tell them that, they’re not going to listen. But I can tell you, because you will.”

She cocked her head a bit to the side. “If I don’t eat him, someone else will. He’s going to die here, anyway, why do you care if I’m the one to do it? I am a predator, and he is prey. You, being a naturalist, surely realize that this is simply nature taking its course.”

“But this-“

But what? Alvis froze. He had no effective counterargument, no valid point to cancel out her’s. She had won the argument. Malka knew this; her smile widened, though she was sincere when she said, “I’m sorry, Alvis, but this is just what I am.”

The elf lowered his eyes and looked away. “At least kill him first,” he said. “Don’t make him suffer all of that.” He focused his ears on the sound of the tomthumb’s cries, just to make sure she would, in fact, spare him the agony of digestion. The cries suddenly stopped after a faint snap. Alvis knew what came after that; Malka opened up her mouth and lowered her victim inside, keeping him there a few moments to disrobe him with a few quick lashes of her tongue and then to savor his taste. Then, finally, she would swallow him whole. Alvis would never forget his own horror the first time he watched Malka do this to a female neera who’d found her way into his study. He could hardly believe what he’d just seen, even as the lump that was the last visible trace of the prey travelled down her throat and disappeared, and she belched out the small top and shorts the neera had been wearing and watched in amusement as they drifted down to his desktop.

As much as Alvis loved her, whenever she did this, she terrified him. But she was right; this was what she was. He had to accept that. And he thought he could- until she did it again.

Alvis let her lay there a few minutes. He waited until after the belch to look back at her. Malka looked for all the world to be sleeping peacefully, her face more gentle now. Forcing what she had just done out of his mind, he was reminded of some of the reasons why he loved her. That serenity, that beauty, that peace of mind and body. He stayed there with her, watching her sleep off her morsel, until she lazily rolled over onto her side and stretched. “Haven’t run off in horror at my savagery, have you?” she asked groggily, looking back at him with sleepy eyes.

“No,” he answered simply, managing a smile. “Ready to go?”

She smiled. “Go where?”

A valid question. “Nowhere, I suppose.”

“Or somewhere. Anywhere would suffice, wouldn’t it?” Malka jumped up onto all fours and stood, stretching herself some more. They returned to the street, that contented, “full belly” smile still on her lips. It wasn’t long, however, until something else came along that shook them both.

“Malka!” a frantic voice called behind her. They both turned to see a disheveled, wild-eyed neko running towards them.

“That’s… That’s Izrel,” she observed with growing concern. “He’s in that expedition with Hallo. Or…”

“Malka! It’s Hallo!” Izrel cried. “It got Hallo! It got everyone except me!”

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I touched it up a bit, so it should make a little more sense now. Chapter four coming... Well, before too long. Like I said, I've got more time for this now.

Looks good so far.
(I'll elaborate later.)

A great chapter here
You do a very good job with the descriptions. they are balanced and make the different scenes really easy to visualize. great job ! ^_^

Good job! Lots of interesting characters so far!
Can't wait to see how all this fits together

Thanks for the comments, everyone! I'm going to start pushing myself here and put out a chapter a week; if I'm going to make a career as an author, I'll need to work a lot faster than I presently do. So yes, the next chapter will be up next week.

Told you I'd be putting up a chapter a week! A few of the pieces are starting to fit together now.


Anastasia looked as hungry as she was. Her body was thin, an underfed, sickly thin, and her skin was pale. She remembered how beautiful she used to be, before she devoted herself to the conservation of other sources of beauty. How the humans that cared for her in her youth used to lust after her in secret, how they would sometimes become entranced with the grace and litheness of her poise and figure and the silky flowing ebony of her hair. In her eyes was where her hunger shone like a beacon- she hid as best she could when around others, but her alone at home, examining herself in her bedroom mirror (actually the rearview mirror of some sort of automobile, which she sized up until it could function as a full-body mirror), she could not hide her hunger. It was not a physical hunger, however; though her stomach bemoaned its emptiness, a physical hunger could be sated, and she had more important things to tend to before she could eat. No, hers was a hunger of existence, one could say: she was hungry for more in her life, more beauty. She surrounded herself with it, but it still wasn’t enough. Not when she knew there was so much more of it out there, either at risk or languishing purposelessly, some of it being destroyed by the beasts and savages that ran amok here, some of it that she could never save.

Anastasia, as she stared into that man-sized rearview mirror propped up against the wall of her bedroom, was waiting. She could do nothing until what she waited for arrived. She took off her red dress when she returned to her abode hidden away in the canopy of the Forest of Whispers; the dress was only a formality, something to indicate that she was more civilized and refined than the other cretins running roughshod here, that she could be reasoned with. At home, she was content to go about her business in a smaller faded brown skirt and tunic; much more comfortable than the dress, if a fair bit less covering. Perhaps the preference to wear as little as possible (if anything at all) was another ambient effect of Felarya.

Those she stole from and planned to devour, she kept in a pocket on her belt, where they remained comatose by a hex she put over them. The conventional magic used by Felaryan predators, save for size-changing fae magic (a racial ability rather than a skill she learned), she never bothered with. Her prey would expect nature magic or fire or electricity. She did what they wouldn’t expect, like more general hexes and charms she learned from her time growing up under human care.

Tiring of staring at herself and listening to her belly growl, Anastasia left her room and entered the main emporium. She was careful to close her bedroom door behind her as she left it- that room, along with several others throughout her home, was off-limits to the occasional guest who stopped by. Other fairies sometimes came to her to see what she had recently collected; she was glad that they could appreciate the beauty she’d salvaged, but she was very strict in her enforcement of her one rule: “Look, don’t touch”. The emporium itself was lined with tables and shelves and chests, and upon and inside these were where her treasures resided. Dozens of exquisite tapestries and exotic pottery, masterful paintings and intricate sculptures, resplendent figurines and sublime instruments, of all shapes and sizes and origins, covered the shelves and tables. The more delicate items were kept in the chests. Anastasia would be willing to take them out and display them if asked, but only briefly. Every time she entered the room, even she herself, the one who collected and arranged all of this, had to stop and marvel at its splendor. There were no windows in this room, lest it draw unwanted attention from larger or more destructive creatures. Rather, it was lit by brightly glowing gems embedded into the ceiling, shining down on the majesty below- devices of her own creation.

But proud as she was of her collection, it was not her destination. There was another door on the other side of the large, hexagonal emporium. After her moment of admiration, she hurried over to it, and unlocked it with a key that had been dangling from her hands all morning. She’d meant to do this sooner, but when she caught sight herself in the mirror, she felt compelled to stop and look. She wasn’t sure why. She normally wasn’t. She just felt as though she should examine herself then. After unlocking this door, she hastily went through and carefully closed and locked it behind her. It was especially important to keep this smaller square room off-limits to other fairies; this was where the most valuable- and most vulnerable- treasures were kept.

While there were no windows in here, either, small holes, too small for even a fairy at her smallest to fit through, had been drilled into the wall adjacent to the outside world to allow ventilation, while more gems shone in the ceiling. There were three small wooden tables in this room, which Anastasia had actually carved herself, as one might have been able to guess from how poorly carved they were. On each table was a large glass terrarium. Two of them were currently empty, as there was presently no need to put anything in them. The terrarium on the middle table, however, contained a facsimile habitat so pristine and lifelike it was as if a section of forest had been shrunken by fae magic. A tiny river flowed in between two-foot-tall trees and gave water to the miniscule berry bushes and soft patches of green moss on its way to the fist-sized pool at the far right end of the enclosure. At the far left end was a small rock cave. At three feet tall and five feet long, with all its features and accommodations, with several small holes in the top and sides to allow air in and out, the terrarium was an excellent home for its sole inhabitant.

Anastasia had managed to rescue a radiant elf-girl from a naga earlier that morning. The girl was shrunken down to three inches and placed in the terrarium, where she cried to be set free and taken home for a long while. Anastasia had tried to console her, to convince that this was the only home she needed now and that she would be well-cared for here, but the poor little thing would pay her no mind. She’d come to accept it sooner or later, of course- that was how it typically went. Anastasia had been called away to another matter before she could say much, but coming back to check on her now she found the little she-elf curled up asleep in the cave. The fae woman smiled at the sight and sat herself next to the table, looking in on her sleeping prize. Even with her features minimized in size, her beauty was still clearly visible, still a beacon in this ugly realm.

And the naga wanted to eat her. Everything in this wretched world wanted to eat her, to destroy such beauty for a light snack. It pleased Anastasia to no end that she was at least able to punish this naga for her insolence.

The door into the emporium from the outside opened and closed, and faint footsteps followed soon after. “An?” a girl’s quiet voice called out.

“In here,” Anastasia called back. The footsteps approached the terrarium room’s door, and a key was fumbled into the lock and turned. The door opened, and a small fae girl in a tunic of leaves poked her head in. The mess of short auburn curls atop her head made it difficult to discern her similar-looking antennae from the hair, but the shyness and inquisitiveness in her bright blue eyes was unmistakable. She was human-sized, as she, like Anastasia, liked to remain. Seeing Anastasia sitting by the terrariums, she smiled her small, skittish smile and entered. This revealed the leather pouch tied around her waist. Anastasia allowed herself a smile; her prize was in there.

“How was the hunt, Eowynn?” Anastasia asked, beckoning the younger fairy to sit next to her, which she did.

Eowynn brought her head to rest on the elder fae’s shoulder. “Of the five nekos,” she began, “I took three for myself.” She accentuated this with a lick of her lips. “One got away. But the one you wanted, I have right here,” she concluded with equal parts happiness and pride.

Anastasia first encountered Eowynn roughly twenty years ago. When the older woman found her, her pack had just ambushed and devoured a group of adventurers- except one. Eowynn had spared a girl who she found to be too pretty to be eaten, and wanted instead to keep the human as a pet. The rest of her pack, however, would not have this. They had gathered around her, presumably after chasing her for some time, and tried to pressure her into eating the girl with a frenzied, callous chorus of “don’t play with your food” and “the better they look, the better they taste” and variations of these phrases. Torn between the proper predatory course of action her friends forced on her and her want to spare such a pretty little creature, Eowynn had been driven to tears, and sat sobbing helplessly in the middle of the jeering circle. Anastasia had not found her until she was already crying, but the explanation Eowynn gave after calming down once Anastasia had convinced her pack to leave her alone allowed her to fill in the blanks. Until then, she had thought she was alone here in seeing the value of beauty. But now, she had found an ally. She asked if Eowynn wanted to join her “pack”, which the girl gladly agreed to; evidently, she was never very fond of her old pack. She seemed quite content now, anyway.

Eowynn carefully opened and reached into her pouch, and pulled out a thin, bare-chested neko boy with dark skin and darker-still short messy hair. The neko squirmed in her hand, gaze darting all around with wild fear. He had a good physique, to be sure, but a closer examination. Anastasia extended her cupped-together hands, and Eowynn gently placed him in her grasp.

“Calm down, love,” Anastasia said gently and quietly, almost whispering. She raised her hands closer to her face, examining the neko. He was young, somewhere in between boy and man, with unperfected yet impressively handsome features. His eyes, though most clearly displaying fear and confusion, had an underlying sense of earnest wonder in every gaze.

“The…” he began to exclaim breathlessly. His voice faltered at first, but he managed to compose himself enough to say, with no shortage of bewilderment and franticness, “The hell I will! What in the names of all the creators is this?!”

“Your salvation,” Anastasia explained as she urged the neko onto the palm of her right hand to allow her left hand to slip away and open the hatch of the habitable terrarium. “You see, you are a living treasure, love. Sadly, no one, aside from my assistant and I,” Anastasia nodded to Eowynn,” Understand that. So, we have taken it upon ourselves to preserve you, and other beautiful things like you.”

Eowynn was overjoyed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like him!” she admitted.

“Wh-What about everyone else?!” the neko asked as he was about to be lowered into the miniature forest.

Anastasia lowered him down to the moss and angled her palm so he’d hop off of it. “What usually happens to small creatures like you in Felarya is what happens to everyone else. Don’t bother mourning them; they are of no merit.”

“What happens to me now…?”

“You stay here. You’re safe here, protected, appreciated in ways you cannot be anywhere else.”

“Sa—Appreciated?! I’m a prisoner!”

“That’s a rather pessimistic way of looking at it. You’re protected, in a good home, and you will be well cared for. That’s better than you’ll get where you were. I shall return to help you settle in shortly.”

“And here I though you things couldn’t get any more fucked up…” Anastasia heard the neko mutter under his breath before she closed and sealed the terrarium’s hatch. She turned to Eowynn beaming beside her.

“This has been a very successful day,” Anastasia observed. “I’d say this calls for a moment of celebration, wouldn’t you?”

“Almost,” Eowynn said coyly, reaching further into her pouch and pulling out a square emerald locket on an elegant chain rope. “The locket itself is nice, but I think what’s inside it is much nicer.” She handed it to the older woman. Anastasia examined the exterior of the trinket- indeed, it was quite nice- and then opened it. She froze dead. Her heart skipped a beat. It was like meeting the ghost of a loved one. A human girl with brown eyes and long blond hair, her every feature radiant, smiled back.

“Where did you get this?” Anastasia asked with dead seriousness. “It is of the utmost importance that you tell me where you found this!”

Eowynn was taken aback by this outburst. She stuttered, “A mermaid- A-A small one, not a big predator one- in that river near the big city was looking at it. I asked her where she got it, and she said the girl in the picture gave it to her in exchange for a song one night a few weeks ago. Then I took the locket and ate her… Sh-Should I not have done that…?”

Anastasia’s lips twisted into a small madwoman’s grin. “No, no, love, that was helpful, very helpful to me indeed! I once kept this girl here, a long time ago. She was particularly dear to me… A rare beauty, one that only comes along once a generation…” She was lost in memory for a moment before collecting herself. “I must be off to Negav immediately. I shall be back either tonight or early tomorrow morning. Thank you, truly! I had thought this treasure lost!”

Eowynn’s little smile returned, though she protested, “What about out celebration?”

“Start without me. You know where the food is.” Anastasia stood and made her way towards the emporium door. “When I return, we’ll celebrate as we never have before!”


I worry I may have made Eowynn too cute. This isn't going to be a very cute story, so I can't help but worry she might create an awkward sort of dissonance later on. I was originally going to make her outfit a leaf-and-grass bikini, but even I knew that was pushing it. But back on topic. What do we think?

This is certainly an unusually interesting fairy. Things are coming together, or at least hinting at coming together.
However, one thing sticks out to me...

Quote :

"I must be off to Negav immediately."

She's a fairy.
Last time I checked, the Negavian attitude to fairies was "Kill it with fire, no exceptions."

AS for Eowynn, I think you could tone her down a bit (I'm not sure why she rested her head on Anastasia's shoulder, considering that they were trying to speak with each other.). Apart from that, just don't Flanderize her.

Very well done!
Indeed, things are starting to come together, although we could already guess what Anastasia was going to do with the Elf.
The terrarium and Anastasia's home in general is an interesting twist! As is the fact she isn't alone.
The only question I have is, if they've been doing this for a while, why are the other terrariums empty? Do they let their catches go? Did some of them escape? I guess we'll find out in time, but that part struck me as odd.

A disturbing premise, but perfectly credible (the beauty of "prey" being valued more than their taste, leading to a desire to keep and "protect" these vulnerable creatures), and very well written. Particularly good work on conveying the functioning of Anastasia's mind.

Eowynn doesn't strike me as "too cute". Above all, she seems submissive, enthralled to Anastasia primarily by her strong desire to please her (hey joy at being told she's done well, her stutter when she thinks she may not have done as Anastasia wanted). Not entirely submissive, though; she does seem to have a mind and wishes of her own.

I'll echo The Archvile in wondering where their presumed earlier "specimens" are, though...

AJ: I realize that going to Negav would be suicide for a fairy, but Anastasia has quite a few tricks up her sleaves. And I thought Eowynn resting her head on An's shoulder was a little much...

FS and Archvile: I know exactly why Anastasia only seems to have two people in one terrarium when the impression is give that she's captured a lot more- but the explanation behind that would be a MAJOR spoiler, so I'm keeping it under wraps.

Thanks to all of you! I'm glad to hear it looks good so far. I should have chapter five up by this coming wednesday.