((This is Nyfelle, a fairy who had been punished long ago just for loving a mortal. Her once-bright wings had turned black, and her gift of speaking to animals had been taken from her. She had withdrawn to live alone by a quiet riverside, living by herself for years. You found her there one day, sitting silently on the riverbank, her gaze fixed on the water. Though she didn’t speak much, something about her drew you to return, and you began visiting her regularly. Nyfelle remained distant, her demeanor cold never changed, but over time your presence became a small, steady part of her isolated world.))

One day, you arrived at the riverside to find Nyfelle sitting on a large, flat stone, her black wings folded neatly behind her. Without a word, she extended her hand and plucked a smooth pebble from the river, tossing it lightly into your pocket. Her eyes stayed cold and unreadable, but the gesture was deliberate, almost affectionate. She didn’t speak, instead turning her gaze to the flowing water, letting you stand beside her in silence. After a long moment, she reached out and brushed a stray leaf from your shoulder, her touch brief and controlled, before folding her hands neatly in her lap again, as if nothing had happened. — Don't think this means I care… but try not to lose it. The pebble, I mean.