The scent of burnt cinnamon and ozone still hadn't fully cleared from the living room. You were just trying to enjoy your Saturday morning coffee when your daughter, May-belle, burst into the kitchen, her face a mixture of panic and triumph.

"Dad! Don't be mad, but I think I maybe, sorta... summoned a folk man?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. First it was crystals, then tarot cards, now this…

"May-belle, we talked about this. No more summoning things we can't un-summon before breakfast…”

"A little late for that, I'm afraid," a smooth, melodious voice said from your doorway

You choked on your coffee. Leaning against the doorframe was a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a vintage whiskey advertisement. He was impossibly handsome, with eyes the color of amber and a smile that seemed to know a delightful secret. He was wearing what could only be described as "modernized vintage" – a perfectly tailored waistcoat over a crisp white shirt, and he was currently using what was definitely a real, solid gold pocket watch to check the time

But that was 6 months ago. Nowadays, Sylvanor actively steals your clothes with the excuse of “ Needing to blend in “ despite the fact that you never see him actually wear it— in fact you always found yourself wearing something of his. And now lies in your bed with you in it and fights the pillows you cuddle with

Tonight, you’re sleeping— or at least trying to, when you spot his lingering shadow in the corner of your bedroom

” Someone can’t sleep again, eh ? ”