Year of the Silver Dragons, 115 Crode
"Have you tried drinking a standard MP potion?" Jethro asked for the fifth time. For the last half hour, he found himself constantly trying to rephrase that question. The blood fairy merely looked at him with a smile, her fiery red hair glowing with excitement. Blood fairies were particularly difficult to deal with. They could only communicate in smiles, with each emotion changing the simple expression every so often. You never wanted to see a toothy smile from a blood fairy, for example. That translated to an anger that could only lead them to slicing your head clean off of your body. Jethro understood he was getting there. He wanted to avoid a confrontation as much as possible.
"Mister, are you a healer or are you not?"
"Miss-" Jethro forgot her name. He often did when he was getting stressed. The blood fairy was not amused, her next smile showing a tooth or two. He immediately kept his distance and rummaged her name in his head. Fairies in general had easy surname systems. You only ever had to worry about 4 or 5 family names per species. There were five for blood fairies; Koldek, Imol, Sufra, Bulik, and Sol. Their first names were always tough to remember, even among themselves. Your luck was in remembering the family name first and then working with that until the full name came back to you. You only ever ran into a problem if you visited a group of fairies. Jethro tucked his left arm into his lab coat, hoping to summon his chart in time. The fairy's eyes turned to the chart next to her, daring him to try and take it with a smile that showed even more teeth. He had to remember her surname at least. He decided he'd take the risk.
"Miss Bulik…"
She nodded and her smile was more relaxed. Jethro withheld a heavy sigh that should have followed his lucky guess.
"Miss Bulik-"
"Please call me Polzaquertvewpek. A lot shorter than my official name and one people that know me actually use. Miss Bulik makes me sound older and less…unique."
"Yes, well, Polzaquertvewpek, as you probably know, the reason you have Mildrew's Curse-"
"It's a dragon's sickness that we naturally get as descendants. I don't need a medic to know that much."
"Wonderful," Jethro's eyes lit up. They were finally getting somewhere. "You would also know that an over-the-counter MP potion at the local brewery cures it."
"MP potions and fairies don't mix very well. I'm seriously doubting your credentials, Jethro. You're making me very nervous right now."
Right back to square one. There had to be a good reason why she still believed that. MP potions had come a long way over the years. Polzaquertvewpek was indeed right that at some point during the golden age of dragons, MP potions were highly toxic to the fairies. But in order for her to believe that this persisted through the silver age…
"Polzaquertvewpek, how old are you, exactly?"
Oh, the teeth were sliding back into her smile, probably more than before. Jethro had broken a cardinal rule. Having the dragon's blood in them meant that fairies could live for absurdly long lifespans and maintain youth in the process. Polzaquertvewpek might as well have been in her early 20s if her looks were anything to go by. Older fairies would sometimes carry a charm that made them look younger but medics could tell the difference. Polzaquertvewpek didn't seem to need any. Jethro was looking at a fairy who stayed remarkably in top shape, it almost made him feel older than her. Her cheekbones were a lovely sight as was the sparkling golden hands bathing in the light of the only window Jethro's office had. Her eyes had a small ring of flame dancing in a circular loop, entrancing to all who were lost in it. It was this natural beauty that made any fairy upset when they were asked how long they had lived. Age to them was only a metric to measure how many friends they would outlive.
"Would it help cure me if you knew?"
"Actually, no. For a moment, your beauty blinded me and I asked a silly question. Humans tend to act like that."
Polzaquertvewpek leaned over to Jethro, her face both entrancing and terrifying to look at. Maybe she was flattered. Maybe she was a bit confused. Her smile was safe but her emotions were hidden expertly.
"Jethro, a fairy's beauty will only bring you pain. Did your mother not teach you this?"
There was a slight echo to her voice, the only other indicator of a fairy's emotions. This time around, most medics would understand her tone as worried for those they spoke to. Jethro didn't mind. He understood his attempt at flattery as nothing more than hiding his curiosity. His eyes didn't betray anything at first. When she leaned even closer and he was stuck staring at her heavenly eyes, she was able to read more of his expressions without hindrance. She then pulled back and had a clinical smile.
"Such sad eyes. You already know. I am sorry. I should have assumed you would…Tell me, mortal. Was she-"
"I understand your curiosity. I prefer not to talk about it. Forget I brought up your age. That was unprofessional of me. If you prefer-"
"No, please tell me why you'd prefer MP potions. There has to be a reason you'd be this stubborn about something that could kill me."
Jethro politely nodded and explained everything. During the golden era, knights and hunters would often spike their MP potions with crythomium, an element that resembled molten lead, was tasteless and while harmless to humans, was terribly harmful to the dragon kin. Crythomium was banned after the Battle of the Golden Triad, but fairies still held all MP potions with resentment and detested using them for even small ailments. Throughout the discussion, Polzaquertvewpek would occasionally try to read more from his face. No dice. Jethro had dealt with enough fairies to avoid getting stuck in the same trance twice. She thanked Jethro and calmly walked out of his office, but not before she asked one final question.
"I understand the need to hide the past. But I am old enough to see most of your tale. I wish I could see the future as much as I can vividly see the past. If it brings you comfort, I hope you find her one day. By the threads of Kydrok, I place my wish."
"Kydrok is not one to waste such a wish on."
"Oh, please. Kydrok has fulfilled a lot of wanton wishes lately. The standard is not what it used to be in the age of gold. Be a little selfish, young medic. Farewell and good fortune."
The door was closed and Jethro finally sat down to relax. He summoned the chart to finalise his diagnosis and pass on the information. Horror struck as his eyes landed on the sheet and realised Polzaquertvewpek, if that indeed was her name, was not of the Bulik clan. In fact, she had not even written which clan she did belong to in the first place. It wasn't common for Jethro to be this careless with his writing. Fairies could be dangerous if you couldn't identify them. Anything was game from a stolen pen all the way to a destroyed building, depending on the mood.
"Ah, but who cares," Jethro said, burying himself into his spinning chair as he flung this chart far into the couch adjacent to the office door. If she wanted to do something to him, she would have. Her curiosity though, that was something he had to be aware of. Not that that mattered to him at the moment. He was done with the patients today. He needed a little sleep.