Quercus silently padded his way down to the valley floor, his bare feet silent on dewy grass as they carried him through the campground. Well, to call it a campground would be generous. Cheap hiking tents were strewn haphazardly across the meadow as if a giant toddler chucked a heaping handful of Fruity Pebbles onto their parent’s carpet. The lean elf didn’t need to tread so lightly with the low rumble of snoring all about him, but old habits die hard. It was late morning of the second day of a music festival he hadn’t even known existed and by the sound of it most beings were sleeping off the previous night’s festivities. The event truly was a hodgepodge of inhumanity as dwarves, gnomes, elves, faries, orcs, halflings, half-humans, and some things he couldn’t identify in his inebriated state danced late into the night. This was typically not his type of crowd, but his friend Mia insisted he accompany her to the event and she was not one to take no for an answer when her mind finally seized upon something. Hmm, friend… No. Not a friend. Definitely not a girlfriend. Something comfortably in-between. Siren Mistress? Fishy Fuckbuddy? He dipped his empty tin cup into a nearby stream to fill it as he pondered the nature of their relationship. Palming the bottom of the vessel he began the trek back up the valley toward the tent they were sharing he wondered what Mia would call it. A smile creased his lips as he pondered if Mia even considered such things considering her personality. Quercus knew for a fact she did not use her siren song on him, nor had bewitched him in any way, but even so the elf realized that since their fateful meeting on the beach months ago it was nigh impossible to tell her no.<br/><br/>Which coincidentally why the respectable shopkeeper was wading shirtless through hundreds of sleeping revelers in a valley he never heard of at the edge of a massive redwood forest at some big secret music festival. As the elf neared a small copse of trees the water in the cup was beginning to steam, so he added a few leaves and berries he found growing about the base of the wood. Quercus placed his hand on the bark of one of the trees and smiled, patting the young growth before returning to his path. It had been far too long since he’d been out into the forest and for that he’d have to thank Mia. However, his thoughtfulness would be blunted by the slight tinnitus ringing in his ears from the prior night. Apparently one of Mia’s favorite bands was playing at this event; which, he couldn’t remember; but to him all human bands sounded the same. Not one for that kind of music, what surprised and fascinated Quercus was the energy that came over the crowd during the performances. It was impossible to avoid and he found himself being swept up as well. And he liked it. Reveled in it. His smile grew into a grin as flashes of jumbled memory came back to about the previous night. The normally affable but reserved elf had become one with the music and the crowd and the forest and Mia and the dancing and the drugs and the sex and the noise and the …<br/><br/>“Fuck!” Quercus swore quietly as he stubbed his toe on a half-buried metal tent stake, the tea in his cup sloshing the boiling contents over his fingers. He seemed to not notice the scalding liquid, far more upset at being distracted by his own thoughts. Grunting he wiggled his big toe and was relieved to find it intact.  Intact. The tall sylvan sighed at his carelessness. In his youth; well, technically he was still a youth by elven standards; but in years past he would have been beaten for such a transgression. Frowning as he banished such thoughts away from this place of pleasure, his eyes alighted on the corner of a box of Pop Tarts sticking out from a nearby pack. The elf had to give the humans credit for one thing: their sweets and delicacies were amazing. Elves always had thought honey and berries were for dessert. The fools. Not sad in the least that the circumstances of his life had brought him to live in the city, Quercus had come to find he had a taste for human things; especially their food. Fortunately, his jewelry shop and his craft provided well that he could indulge in whatever cuisine the modern world fit his fancy.<br/><br/>Hiking higher up the valley floor Quercus sipped the boiling tea and smiled. Simple and delightful, just the way the silversmith liked it. Spying Mia’s purple tent he adjusted his course to intercept it. A grin returned to his lips as he opened it and found the siren still sleeping in the middle of it, just where he had left her before taking his morning constitutional. He sipped his tea and watched her sleep for a moment, recalling the events of the last few months that had brought them together. Never in a thousand years had he thought he’d become so thoroughly entwined with a creature such as she, but life finds a way of fostering the unexpected. A simple fishing expedition to catch fresh fish to make Meuniére had ended up with he himself ensnared. Thoroughly ensnared, especially since she was clingy when she slept. Quercus was reluctant to leave her this morning, but elves do not sleep as most creatures do. So when Mia had rolled over in her sleep and threatened to suffocate him with her ample bosom, while certainly an entertaining way to finally shuffle off the mortal coil, he instead had decided to carefully extract himself from the sleeping siren and begin his morning. Besides, his trip did bear unexpected fruit. After all, old habits die hard. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He greeted Mia half a second before the sound of the thin foil packet of a pair of pilfered cherry Pop Tarts hit a pair of melons. “Breakfast is served.” Quercus grinned, sitting in the doorway of the tent sipping his tea watching the stolen treat rise and fall with her breathing.<br/>