Falls

The jingling laugh was his first warning, and though he'd truly half-expected something to slip out of the shadows, the eerie, tinkling sound still made Herald jump, scattering a few flickering fireflies. Nonetheless, he squinted eagerly into the darkness, and when she emerged she was truly a fae vision, so white she nearly glowed in the moonlight, clouds of ethereal hair billowing around her and softening all her edges until, in the hazy silver gloom, he could not quite tell where she began and ended, haloed as she was by that flowing white storm. Within her whiteness were three points of such pitch-black they looked like voids against the rest of her- her eyes and smiling lips, he realized.

She was drawing closer, and though she was looking up at him and he down at her (he shifted in a delicate circle where he stood in order to face her- it seemed only polite), he certainly did not have the sensation of an 'upper hand'. If anything, he rather wondered if he should be afraid of her; this strange pale vision from a haunted wood. The thought was exciting, and when her void-black, smiling mouth opened, he craned to hear her, arching nearly on tiptoes (because the idea of stepping closer to her was, admittedly, a little bit frightening).

“You’re wet. And surrounded by bugs.”

"...Oh." He sank back, glancing down and around at himself, feeling rather disappointed by the lack of... Well, fae trickery. His friendly procession of glittering emerald insects suddenly didn't seem so exciting anymore, either. "I suppose so," he agreed, a bit glumly, then glanced back at her through his damp curls, his strong feathered legs shuffling shyly in place.

"I don't suppose you... Want to ask me for something?" he offered, his shofar voice round and throaty in its low notes but growing clear and bright as it pitched hopefully up at the end.