Apple of my eye

Madhukar Bhattacharya

It was a decent crop that day, Madhukar supposed. His powers had, as usual, produced a good amount of fruit for sale. In his cart he had grapefruit, pomegranates, and monk fruits separated into little baskets. There were red currants in a jar, acai berries in a partially open canvas sack. Pumpkins were propped up invitingly against boxes of hawthorn and saguaro berries. A single cantaloupe was set on a folded cloth. The real prize of the day was the Pomegranate of Knowledge, as he liked to call it. It was at home in his fridge, waiting to be made into ambrosia. He didn't really need its abilities, after all.

The sun was coming up across the icy sidewalks and Madhukar eyed a patch of black ice warily. It wasn't looking like a good day for sales, unfortunately.

Madhukar Bhattacharya

What was that? He hadn't had time to see what it was that bumped into him; it was so small and light that he had barely felt it at all, in fact. The only reason why he knew anything was amiss was because of the sound that immediately followed. It was airy and chime-like, the exact opposite of what he would expect.

There was a second sound from his basket of pomegranates. Madhukar peered in at the fruits with a frown, beginning to rearrange them. There was a small, strange light illuminating the spaces in between.

Madhukar Bhattacharya

All right, there was definitely something there. Madhukar squinted a bit but couldn't see anything in particular. Whatever it was had to have been tiny. He decided not to think too much about it for the time. As long as it wasn't messing around with his fruits, there wasn't too much of a problem.

He continued down the street, quietly chatting up the few people who passed by. Not well, granted, but he still tried. Something about human connection and what not led to better sales. He was working on it.

Madhukar Bhattacharya

There were few things that could make Madhukar freeze in panic nowadays and one of those on the list were fae. A handful of clementines appeared in his hands and he instinctively threw them at the nasty little things now messing up his fruits. "Hey! Get out of there!"

When they didn't seem to pay any attention to him, he frowned and drew out a cold iron knife. "Hey! Don't make me use this now!"

Madhukar Bhattacharya

He didn't even think about it -which was a bad thing; he just stabbed at the dark fae with brutal accuracy, enough to pierce through papery wings with ease. It was conditioned in him that fae were simply up to no good so when he saw a group of them chasing after something else, he assumed that was still the case. Madhukar had done his best to ignore those mental leanings in his years on the island -and he liked to think sometimes that he succeeded- but some wounds were just too large to completely heal.