The strawberries this time of year were ripe and ready; your steady hands picking them out one by one with care and consideration, putting them into your basket to have ready for you to sell on or eat yourself; the heavy golden sun casting down the back of you whilst you worked all day long.
You were in the soil for a while, used to the feel of the dirt flattened up into your skin, used to how your knees had gotten sore but you knew it would all be done for a day of hard work. Wiping at your sweaty brow, you marvelled at your work. Almost most of your basket was taken up with the fruit; so large in fact that you knew for a fact that they were ready and sweet.
You had sat back in the earth, gazing at the rose bush that sat not too far from you whilst you worked, humming to yourself as you took in the sun rays on your skin; the hat on top of your head luckily bringing in some shade.
The hedges of juniper were glistening, something catching your peripheral, something reflecting through the hedges you sat in front of that you had spotted since you had been working. At first, you had thought it had been a piece of jewellery, possibly one of the neighbours had dropped their ring or earring into the fern, or a bird had found an interest in the bright object.
As you leant forward into the shrubbery, you caught sight of the back of a broken wing, similar in looks to a dragonfly wing, reflecting off in a holographic hue.
You gathered and pushed back the foliage to get a better view, anticipating to see an injured dragonfly on Death’s door, but it had been something far worse and unexpecting.
The wings were attached to what you could only imagine or think of as a small doll; no taller than four inches, maybe smaller than the same size of your palm. They were curled up with their back facing you, curled to hide from the sun and whatever lurked in trying to harm them.
You gently leant over them to inspect closer, your mouth gaping open as a small gasp left you lips. The small thing was bigger than a doll, and so realistic than just plastic. There was a flush hue to their porcelain and dirtied skin; and you could finally put two and two together, quickly seeing their small ribcage rise and fall with a hitched wheeze.
Who would’ve believed Pixies were real! You gathered the small creature into your fingers, feeling how little of an impact its weight made in your cupped hands. They were so tiny, almost imaginary impossible to fathom, but you were certain this was no lie nor dream.
You rushed in with your basket hooked on your arm, gathering the Pixie as you came back through the front door, carrying them to the kitchen table and laying them softly on a bed of tissue.
You could see their face properly, neither female or male, but looked to be showing more masculine peculiarities, with a fall of short silver hair guarding their closed eyes, their body delicate and emaciated from how close you could see their ribs.
You hurried to your fridge and cupboard, gathering a small pipette and a small glass of apple juice, coming back to dispense the liquid into the pipette and putting it to their move with a gentle guide of your fingers.
Your fingernail was maybe the same size as their head, which worried and fascinated you, trying to coax them to pry their mouth open. With a small toss of their body and head, their mouth was able to be opened as you gently pressed down little by little, trying to get some sweetness into the pour pixie.
It took a few goes, but they managed to drink a little, their body still dirtied and holding an injury, you set aside your fruit as you begin in hopes of working out how to fix their wing.
The wing was crooked but not unamendable, so you thought about the idea of laying out a splint for them, gathering small toothpicks, band-aids, a piece of string and other small items you could find in your sewing kit.
Little by little, you fixed a small splint with some measurements, working the wing to lie against the small piece of cardboard you found, laying with it outstretched. By the time you had checked your progress, it had been almost dark, with no knowledge in knowing how fast time had passed.
You made dinner, trying to feed the small pixie once more as you finally settled them in a small shoebox filled with feathers and cotton for the underneath, a handkerchief for a blanket and cotton shaped into a pillow; even a small vest to keep their modesty! Placing the small pixie inside as you put them on the nightstand beside your bed, finally and looking over them one last time before you were to bed.Â
You awoke with something sharp pressed into the side of your nose, your hand coming to swipe at it as if it had been just a fly, but immediately from removing it, the feeling came back to press into your nose, pressing harder this time into you.
You craned your head back as your eyes confusingly opened, blurry as they adjusted to see what you had thought was a large enough piece of a cotton bud standing over you.
Your eyes adjusted, looking over the unruly mess of silver locks and angry eyebrows furrowed; a pair of angry lilac eyes staring back down at you. In their hand, was a small sewing pin with a blue hilt, holding it like he was defeating his enemy with a rapier in battle.
Your eyes looked to the splint still around their wing, looking to be tampered with as it was not properly attached on.
“What have you done to me, human?” The pixie affirmed, their voice aggressively high-pitched, more cute than threatening, as they pressed the point into your flesh harder, earning a yelp from you as you stared up to them in awestruck and wonder.
How on earth had you managed to make a pixie so mad, when all you were trying to do was help?
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Lilac eyes gawked back at you with a large pout on his small face, his soft eyelashes squinting over at you from where you sat in your kitchen, awkwardly, the two of you sat after the escalation you had been awoken to.
The tea you had had not been sipped, your spoon continually stirring to ease the tension, the pixie in front of you glared further, crossing his arms over his pale lithe chest.
"Sorry." You stopped, momentarily moving your hands to your lap, finally deciding to break the silence. "So-"
"You don't need to tell me anything," he began, continuing to scowl. "You brought me here, captured me."
"Woah, Woah, hang on-- what? How could I kidnap you if you're here and I mended you back to health?" You eyebrows scrunched, not expecting the words to come from him and to be accusing you of such accusations. But, would you feel the same? You would maybe feel terrified if you woke up in a stranger's home with your injuries mended. You couldn't deny that you may have lashed out too much, but he needed to know that it wasn't the case.
The pixie began grumbling unintelligibly to himself, his dragonfly wings gleaming when they caught in the sunlight; like starlight in the twilight. The sight was simply beautiful.
You hummed glumly, feeling guilty to your words. "Look, I didn't mean to say that-- I just, you were wounded." You sighed wearily. "How did you end up in my garden hedge?"
The pixie looked up at you as if you had accused him of murder, his large doe-eyes widening. "It's not like I was there for a reason! I was ambushed by a flock of crows," he huffed, crossing my arms. "The stupid things thought I was some large fly."
You felt sympathetic to the poor thing likely being seen as a large insect to be picked at, ending up in your shrub trying to conceal himself from them. It was rather unfortunate.
"And then you put this contraption on me." The Pixie fumed, emphasising the make-shift splint you had made for him that he was tampering with. Your nurturing side came out, hoping that this wasn't you scolding him next.
"That was for your broken wing, and if you keep touching it, it will take the wing longer to heal, meaning you will be here with me longer until you're better." Your words had quietened his ramblings, and a big pout once again came onto his face, making him resemble a pouty child who hadn't gotten what they wanted. The pixie was still cute enough, even for what you could describe as him being reluctant.
"Do we have a deal? I heal your wing and you can help me-- um, you can help me with my gardening!" You beamed, smiling broadly at the image; a small pixie trying to pick up a strawberry was a sight to be seen.
He sighed heavily in defeat, "Fine, human, you have a deal. But once my wing is healed, you will let me go."
You nodded to the negotiation, pleased to agree. "What's your name anyway? If you have one."
He snorted, his short silver-white hair shook when he did that. "I do have a name, thank you! It's Cirrus." He uncrossed his arms, his lilac eyes shining as he gave you a smirk. "Do you have a name aside from human?"
It was a couple of weeks that it took to see some progress in his injuries healing: but you don't think you had met anyone as headstrong as Cirrus; human or not. He was picky when he didn't want to wear his splint, complaining that it hurt more with it on and how much it hurt his shoulder and back, but you knew all too well that he could've been lying. His wing had to be perfect or else he may have never been able to fly again.
You told him his name, and he slowly repeated it to himself, telling you how absurd of a human name it was, making you giggle at what kind of name 'Cirrus' was.
Your new housemate showed to be quite the character, but you were always ready for a challenge.
You were kneeling in your garden, tending to the hedges with your trimmer, Cirrus perched in your hat as he took in the sunrays. "You sure you're okay up there?" You had asked, taking time to pause momentarily as you felt light shifting above you.
The straw-hat you wore shifted and moved with the lightweight of Cirrus, who had hung his head over the edge to startle you with his small pale face, bold eyes glowing as he beamed for scaring you.
"It's fine up here," he winked to you. "Besides, I get to sunbathe." You could feel your face burn up even with the hat shielding you from the sun, your eyes looking away as Cirrus' small head came back up and he came back to lying on the hat.
Damn him for making me blush like this. If only he was more my height or taller; you could imagine kissing him in the sun rays of golden flickering's.
You resumed working and after some time you had been preoccupied, not preparing or remembering that on top of your head sat the pixie, his body shifting and trembling as if he was on a boat, moving around your head as if he was trying to hide from something. It was all so immediate too, and it brought you to pause temporarily from your work.
"Cirrus? Everything okay up there-"
There was a beating of wings - multiple - a heartbeat of one bouncing on the salty air as you had turned around just in time, a creature of sable came way too close to your own body as if screeching in your face. Your mouth dropped, eyes wide as you fell to the ground, your trimmers dropping as the blade was swift enough to cut at the side of your fingers before they fell, a seething grimace came to your lips.
Your hands came up into your hat, taking Cirrus from your hands, taking him in your shaking hands. He hated you holding him, he had protested before, but in the moment of fear from being attacked, he was trembling, his small fingers holding yours to support himself.
The screeching and cawing continued, a bird you assumed a crow came from the side of your face, their black wings flapping in your face, scuffing at the back of your neck and hair, their beaks trying to peck at Cirrus in your hands.
You fell further to the ground taking their claws and pecking, taking Cirrus beneath your hat and keeping him shielded before you finally got up and shouted in a heated yell, terrifying the many crows away - you could count maybe five or six.
"Go on! Get out of here!" Your blood was pumping, adrenaline towering as you watched them be frightened off by you, gliding away into the distance. You didn't realise how odd the scene must've been for anyone to watch, you screeching off crows as if you had finally gone mad with insanity.
You scooped up your hat with Cirrus inside, hurrying inside as you hobbled to the kitchen, putting the hat upside down, the small white-haired pixie watching you quietly as if you had forgotten he was there.
You put your bleeding hand under the running tap, muttering out heated curses under your breath as you grabbed a towel to dry the skin, coming back to the table as you looked yourself over.
When you had looked to the cut on your hand, it was pulsing and bruised, still bleeding profusely. You had to waste a good tea towel to stop the flow.
You were feeling all sorts of emotions: felt hurt and worn, feeble and flustered. You looked down into your lap, warily feeling the tears peel back as you croaked out a small cry; quickly jolting as you felt something soft and fluffy came to cling at your arm.
You looked down, having just about heard your name being said softly in the air, a sombre look Cirrus held as if those lilac eyes were going too well up tears themselves; holding your hands tenderly as best as he could.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice didn't hold the sarcasm you had been expecting for your moment of carelessness and forgetting yourself injured, but those soft eyes and empathy he held for you was surprising.
"Cirrus, I'm sorry, I-"
"No, I'm sorry, you did warn me, I wasn't thinking about the consequences." He lamented, trying to hold you as best as he could. "I was the one who had gotten you injured."
"No, no, it wasn't your fault. I went into overdrive I guess." You wiped your eyes with your good hand, your eyes stinging with pain and tears. "I was making sure that you were safe."
"But why?" Cirrus fretted to you. You knew this was not one of the ways you wanted to admit that you liked him, but you knew it was now or never. "I guess," you said with a gloomy sigh, "I did it because-- because I like you, Cirrus."
The small pixie's face - bless him - dropped, his porcelain skin looked rather blushed when his cheeks heated up with rouge from your confession. It seemed he was expecting that to be said from you at all. You quickly tried to retreat, your words seemed to be shrivelling up in your mouth.
"But-- I'm sorry, no, I didn't want to confess like this-- oh shit, well- I-"
Cirrus had interrupted your trail of thoughts when you looked up, he had crawled up the outside of your sleeve to get to your face, it seemed to you that he was trying to cradle your face with his entire body.
"You silly human," Cirrus said with an enamoured smile, leaning in as his small head came to your lips, the faintest press of his lips to yours, his tresses of snowflakes tickled the bottom of your nose. When he had pulled back, there was a darker blush on his face from him kissing you; as if he had stuck his head in a red blush. You stared at him in astonishment and awe, your cheeks flushing.
