As Aica collected the knife after a throw, he saw Vesta awake and moving, though he didn’t focus on her for even a single heartbeat as he turned on his heel and repeated the throw. When he retrieved it again, she was gone but it was of little concern. He knew she would attend to her functions, cleanse her, perhaps even find berries or roots to grace their breakfast. As for Aica, his concerns were much higher and greater, like finding a means to reclaim his home, so they would never have to sleep under boughs or upon moss again. Alone, numb to all else, Aica threw the knife and his feet moved instantly to follow, hand clasping the hilt to pull it out of the wood.<br/><br/>And then the sound of screaming came upon him. Not violently however. More like the…buzzing of many wasps. Or the annoying circling of a fly upon one’s head when slumbering. Aica at first assumed he was being beset by foes, his first thought of Vesta alone out there before he realized it was just the little forest sprite. Yet this time it brought more than words and acorns to bear. It attacked him! Grasping his loose strands of hair, those not caught in his bun, the creature pulled back, causing him to hiss and gritted his teeth, one eye shut to the pressure, as it chided him.<br/><br/>Knife in hand, his first instinct was to turn and slash. Yet he was stopped, remembering from his distant youth how as boys he and his brothers used to once fight, with no rules or governing of conduct, with hair pulling being among the many pains they inflicted upon each other. This…strain was no more than a pinch. It barely hurt in fact, especially compared to what he endured recently. The creature ended up undoing the knot of the bun and his hair fell loose, half over his face, before she abandoned his work, flying to her home of a tree to inspect the damage he had done. How was he supposed to know it was her home? It looked to him the same as all the others about.<br/><br/>Yet Aica did not react still, watching her intently, recalling then what Vesta had said and his own thoughts before he had slept.<i>A king should be gracious.</i>Aica loosened his grip on the knife, not intending any further action with it.<br/><br/>He took three steps forward and bent slightly at the waist, coming level with the sprite, the wounding of the tree trunk behind her. For a moment he watched her, one grey eye unimpeded by his brown hair, the other peering from a shroud of hair. He could see her now, in the fullness of her appearance, not moving or fluttering. She had two wonderful wings, a pretty face, a fulsome body, with trickles of some light about her limbs. Aica had never seen such a creature before and in that moment his eyes held belief and understanding. She was real, her kind was real, and therefore all the myths and legends must hold some weight to them.<br/><br/>“You’re right.” Aica declared after a moment of staring. “For someone who has lost his own home, I ought to be more respectful and less despoiling of those who still have that luxury. Only stupidity or ignorance will excuse me and both do not reflect well on who I am. So I apologize, little wisp.” Aica said to her, giving a dip of his head before returning to his full height, now peering down at her. “Banished from these woods…” he repeated with a chuckle, a very macabre and sorrowful one, glancing down at the knife in his hand. “Even the wilderness of my kingdom does not want me. Perhaps Vesta is right. There is nothing for me here.”<br/><br/>He placed the knife back in his belt and proceeded to sit down on that very spot, crunching dead leaves beneath him upon the dirt. He swept his hair back with a hand and proceeded to redo the knot, tying a rudimentary bun with the long strands. Vesta did it best of course. “Tell me then, little wisp. Why help us anyways? Humans come and cut down wood for fire, wood for their homes and all manners of things. Why bring us here to your home then, feed us, have us sleep here, if most humans be forbidden? What makes us so different in your mind than the rest? Is it because you know who I am? It is an empty title and name, one which will get you no favours anytime soon.”<br/><br/>Aica finished the bun, resting an arm over a bent knee, the other behind him supporting as he leaned back, his grey eyes ever upon the creature, waiting for her answer.<i>What motive or ambitions drove her?</i>“Do you intend to use us in some witchcraft, for some blood magic?” Aica then inquired, very suspiciously.