Shape walks into the deciduous forest wrapped in a brown wool coat with a hoodie. Twigs crack and dry soil shifts under his feet, and the afternoon sun is lost from the thin tree canopy. He rubs his mittens together and then trots on, his freezing heart beating faster. He or she should be close enough now to see him and help him remove this gray hex imbued by that backstabber. She had to help him—fairies in general didn't just let people die, did they? Not from something so slow to be lethal at least. They're usually tricky and impatient about these things, from what he's seen, and not often murderers anyway. Shape shivers, buckling onto a thick layer of vibrant grass. He calls out, "Anya? I heard about y-you." He then covers his lips with his coat.
There is no response at first, but soon after in the shaded lighting appears a gently glowing speck of light some distance away. It drifts in wave motions, slowly approaching the poor little fellow and finally lingering just a few feet away. It sits there, quietly. Waiting.
His lips are shown again, and he exhales an icy mist. "Thank G-Gods for being here. Anya I've been... Cursed to be really cold. I can show you the hex marking— it's on my wrist." He rolls down the sleeve of the coat partway and turns his wrist to the speck of light. The gray marking resembles a lattice of six icicles, and the color sinks deep into the skin and nerves. "Please, Anya, fair—fairy of these woods." He knows this can't be enough, but he should be able to convince her.
The little glowing orb drifts away barely halfway through the riveting elaboration as if it had no interest at all, floating upwards towards a nearby tree. Past it, from Shape's view, is a suspiciously dense cluster of branches. Not something one would take note of if not deliberately looking up - and as the glow passes through a clear, rectangular opening, it's clear there's a small house in the crown of the tree. The gentle glow illuminates an open doorframe and a small window beside it.
A small voice pipes up, sounding somewhat unawake and disgruntled. "Who's you? What do you want? I was in the middle of a nap so this better be important."
Shape bites his lip and looks behind him, as if hoping someone else would pipe in. "Well I just explained during it but to recap—" He faces the little opening of the house. "Anya, fair fairy of the woods, I've been hexed by a bad sorceress. I grow colder and colder, like in the literal sense, as in I'm freezing slowly inside and I really need your help. I learned of you before and—well, I'd be eternally grateful for your assistance." He huddles into a fetal position.
Out from the slight overhang outside the house peeks a small face with pink hair falling down around it. Anya tilts her head aside, observing. "I was going to say that I've heard way better stories for the purpose of getting it on with a fairy, but that actually looks bad. You didn't answer the 'who's you' part, though. I can't legally bind you to my totally not suspicious magical trickeries if I don't know that." She giggles. "Also it's just polite."
Shape nods and rubs his knees together. "Right. Okay. Please just call me Shape... That is my name. I have magical tricks of my own, but they're not helpful here unfortunately." He lifts his chin. "This isn't my first rodeo with a fairy, so... Is it all right if we keep the tricks until after—this? I feel terrible, Anya."
"Ooookiedokie! I'll be right down!" Anya stands up to the edge; he's now visible with a very light coverage of what seems like woven plant garments. A quick and elegant flip off the edge, she dives down towards the ground. Letting her wings catch the fall at the very end, he swoops forward and rolls into the grass next to Shape before fluttering back up above to get a good look.
"So, Shape. What can you tell or show me? I need to know what I'm working with here and I'm not like those 'licensed doctors' who stick fancy gadgets in your face holes." He flutters about anyhow, looking for whatever she can.
Anya is, to Shape, practically a fairy tale fairy. Living in what's essentially a bird house, covered in leaf, agile and beyond gender, Anya could easily be in a Disney Renaissance film. But appearances are only appearances. He smiles, through the cold teeth, and uncovers his wrist for him again. "I can't even remember the last time I did traditional medicine... Wait, never mind, I had a Tylenol a couple weeks ago. But yeah, this marking must have did something to my sensory system..." He doesn't bother to follow Anya's erratic flight.
She doesn't hesitate to start inspecting the markings, waving her hands a few times to make magic sparkles and seeming more and more displeased with each cast. "You, uh... You got yourself into some real shit, didn't you? This is not your average corner store hex." He focuses and manifests a glow over the markings, but it is too rejected and only serves to cause a brief but terrible itch in the markings. "I'll need some time and also stuff to actually dispel this, but I should be able to mitigate some of it temporarily to start. You're going to owe me for this."
"Yeah, I guess I did. It wasn't supposed to be like this, but somebody didn't want to play by the established..." He shivers. "It's okay, I'm really grateful you're here. Thank you again—I'll definitely make it up to you, yeah, definitely since it's so serious and all." Assuming, of course, the bargain was even reasonable, and the fairy continued to play nice. He scratches the temporary itch on the marking, but his mittens make it ineffective. "If there's anything I can do in the meantime to help, I'll try. Mm—" Shape winces and clutches over his heart.
Anya moves aside a bit, and there's a sudden bright flash of pink that envelops her location. As it fades again seconds later, there's now a small but distinctly human sized Anya in his place, sitting in the grass. He puts a hand to his chest, and carefully conjures out a radiant orb of light. Holding it out, the slightest semblance of warmth washes over the skin that's closest to the manifestation.
"I'll let you borrow some of my warmth, for now. It should probably make you a little bit less miserable, though stoking it somehow would surely make it much stronger." The orb sinks into Shape's chest, and it does indeed do a job of mitigating the deep-seated frost inside.
Worth noting that in the shapeshift, the grassy attire has not persisted and Anya's only decency currently is waist length pink hair falling over his somewhat flat chest, and the tall grass coming high enough up the body to conceal her crossed legs.
A tear sheds from Shape's eye before the orb enters into his chest. It's a remarkable sensation—Shape feels at about eighty percent, instead of ten. But, of course, it's tapered with concerns. He takes off his mittens and unbuttons his winter coat, revealing his casual red t-shirt. He even has some sweat glisten on his forehead from the sudden warmth of the winter coat before placing it aside. He runs his hand across his face and says, "Thank you, Anya. I feel guilty about borrowing your warmth as you say. I'd rather you stay warm too. But... This is really helpful, for now. Can I help in some way with the process of the cure?" He stares at the human-size Anya, glazing at his eyes and his vibrant hair down to her waist. "You do look pretty, I will mention. Is your hair always that color?"
She does not hesitate to drape Shape's coat loosely over her shoulders, giving off a slight shiver as he's now not entirely oblivious to somewhat mild air. "Aw, thank you. And yes, it's my favorite color. I've tried a lot of variations but I do always come back to this." The warmth in Shape's chest picks up, remarkably in pace with the ever so slight appreciative blush on Anya's face. It fades again, though, as soon as it came. This must be what he meant by 'stoking the warmth'.
"You're quite precious too, you are. And I'm not just saying that because you're such a pitiful state right now. As for the hex... We'll need some concentrated soulfire, strong enough to melt the core of bitter cold seated inside you in one go. There's a good few steps to that. You said you have some assortment of magic yourself, what kinds? There's a good chance any of them might prove useful."
Shape smiles, weakly, and touches the coat draping Anya now. The sudden warmth that flares up in the orb inside Shape is a nice coincidence to the fairy's moment... In any case, Shape just wants to stay close to Anya, and assist him closely. He tilts his head, and says, "I'm precious? That's very nice of you to say, really flattering. Yeah... I think I'm a bit better usually, too. But yeah, 'concentrated soulfire,' sounds a bit elusive and maybe painful, but we'll do whatever it takes. My abilities... Are a bit of a one-trick pony, and probably not very helpful here. I'd show you, but I think I'd pass out, maybe. I'm a shapeshifter, and I usually prefer to keep it in the realm of human vessels. What you see here is a common one of mine. I'm not sure many dedicated shapeshifters exist in this region; I've struggled to find more like me anyway. Usually it's just one thing of many in the toolkit of a greater magical presence."
"It's actually not very painful at all. If you use it correctly, of course. It's like..." She pokes at the place the orb had entered his chest. "Like that, but more. Again! If you don't fuck it up and give your emotions third degree burns. It's really uncomfortable if you do that. You'd start having grating, itching sensations inside whenever you experience Feelings for the next while. So let's avoid that." He shuffles around a bit, to try and promote some more warmth. Couldn't this have happened in some manner of toasty summer day? Oh well, the fairy thinks.
"Shapeshifting, huh? I... Don't think that's exactly what we need for this project unless there's a magical reagents store nearby you could impersonate the staff of. I need to revisit the exact details of some proper soulfire distillation, but I think we're in luck and we could find most of the ingredients in the general vicinity. I might have to recruit some friends for the purpose. You don't have any stockpiled magical thingymabobs to exploit, by chance?" She resists making a comment on being one of those people where shapeshifting is just a part of his assortment of magical fairy skills.
"Oh, what a relief. Well, I much prefer having those emotional burns compared to having died, so it's definitely something I'm happy to risk." Shape furrows his eyes as Anya keeps adjusting in the coat, and he puts his hand under the coat when there's an opening, rubbing her shoulder in an apologetic gesture. "I was thinking, maybe if you're really cold now we could also grab some more blankets during this process? Do I feel warmer to you now too, maybe that'd help?" He sits pretty much at Anya's side, towering a bit over him, and then he says, "If that store exists, I honestly might be all right with just buying it unless it's really expensive. Recruiting your friends sounds good, though, yeah. I think we'll probably need help. All my stockpiled magical things are not here, they're back home, which is like several miles out, we'd have to get my car which is like.. Kinda far from here too. Mild potions and my runestones probably aren't what you need, though?" He considers if he's even in a state to drive, or get to the car.
Anya sighs softly and leans into the touch, seeming very little objecting to having her bare skin touched by a complete stranger like this. The hand is a tad chilly but it's the gesture is warmer than the magic is cold. He leans in slightly, and seems... Again, slightly more warm to Shape's chest. "Well, it is quite unfortunate that you decided to show up in the afternoon. Considering, well. I have a small fairy home for small fairies, and while I could offer a blanket or two, they're kind of." He makes a gesture with his hands that indicates a square too small to cover a person. "Did you plan to like. Just get poofed back into okayness? That seems a bit well optimistic an outcome, to me."
It is, in fact, slowly getting a bit shadier and it's a question of time before the cool night will start settling in. Considering the two are already clawing at a limited reserve, that's less than ideal. It seems just a bit more sizeable though, as the fairy cuddles gently into their side.
As Shape's chest warms again in a disjoint way once more, he takes his free hand to feel it through his shirt. And, with his other hand, he touches and teases her neck and upper back as well, feeling the orb's radiant heat adapt in real time. He gets close enough with the fairy that he's partially inside the coat as well, granted only part of his side. "Yeah... I didn't really want to come here in the afternoon, or actually at all, I merely had to because I was dying and I knew that a fairy of these woods could help. You are very generous though, and again, pretty." He smirks and looks away for a moment. "I have to be optimistic. Well... If the house is too small, and it's becoming dark, I think we should go to my car. I promise it'll be comfortable for a woodland presence like you. There's like a scented tree in it. Heating as well. Then we can figure out what to do." The sky's color, too, is colder, and receding into an early sunset.
All the caressing and the gentle compliments make the effect unmistakable for both parts. But the fairy doesn't comment on it or give of any sign that he's noticed. She does, however, nuzzle more into him. "I see... Apologies, I tend to be visited by the most leisurely of passerbys that think talking to a fairy about some manner of hex or ailment is like taking a vacation. It's serious business... I guess your state is quite dire though, so good on you for reacting quickly. If you have heating in your car then that is probably a better option than most things. I think Lydia's busy today so she couldn't even take you in, probably. And that'd be one of the better remaining options. So. We must go, to your car."
The fairy is still quite bare, but she uproots a handful of grass and, holding it in her hand, transforms back into small. Curiously, his magic can settle the grass back into the cute plant coverings he had earlier, but... He only hovers just briefly before the both notice the biting cold set in now that the much less voluminous fairy is producing considerably less heat. Swiftly, she poofs back, landing face first into the grass.
"Well, fuck. That's not great."