Doodles

Nessie took another sip from her cappuccino and stared quietly down at her sketchbook, letting the sweet flavor of the coffee drink spread over her tongue. She was sitting at a table by herself in a small coffee shop that she'd been favoring as of late, working on a sketch for her next painting - a peaceful snowy landscape with a cabin in the forefront. She picked up her pencil and added more detail to the cabin's siding, then leaned back from it again to look at the whole thing.

She was happy that she'd decided to come to this island, fifty years ago. Things were peaceful here. She had a job that she liked where she didn't have to speak, which was working out very well. She had her hobbies to keep her busy outside of work. She...didn't really have any friends, but that was okay, because she just kept to herself most of the time, anyways. She didn't need friends, not really.

Nessie sighed and shook out the cramps from her right hand, then reached for her cup again. Someone bumped into her chair in passing, causing her to lurch forward and knock her cup onto the ground. Nessie frowned at the shattered cup and spilled drink. The person just kept on walking out the door without saying a word.​

Nessie started to pick up a napkin when a young boy approached and started to clean up the mess for her. She wondered if he worked here or something, but he didn't appear to be in a uniform or anything, so she supposed not. She considered his words and looked at her hands, then shook her head, her red hair bouncing gently with her movements.

She checked her sketchpad for damages. Fortunately, there wasn't a single drop of coffee on the paper. She sighed in relief and smoothed her hand over the page gently, being careful not to smudge the pencil.​

Nessie glanced up at the other boy in the wheelchair and nodded, frowning at the door that the rude person had left through. She glanced at the not-handicapped boy who introduced himself as Theron and blinked, looking at his finger that was now bleeding.

With a surprised expression, Nessie fished into her bag and rummaged through her art supplies before she found a band-aid. Handy little things, especially since Nessie tended to cut herself sometimes too. She held it out to Theron.

Once he took it, she flipped to a blank page in her sketchbook and wrote Nessie in neat, gently curving letters, holding it up in one hand and pointing to herself with the other.​

Nessie, too, grinned at the idea of this boy in the wheelchair chasing down the person who'd spilled her coffee. It was a funny image indeed. She started to fish in her bag for her wallet to pay for another drink when one of the employees came over with a fresh cup to replace the broken one, cleaning up the rest of the mess. That was nice. This was why she always tipped generously at this little place...they knew her well and always treated her with kindness and courtesy.

She smiled gently at the little statue that the other boy set on the table, gently reaching over to touch it with her fingertip. It was cold. Ice. How fascinating. She looked up at the boy who'd made the statue as he asked her a question. She gave a mysterious smile and made a so-so gesture with her hand. The Fae tended to be rather mysterious with revealing what they were to people, speaking in half-truths and never giving away more than they had to.​