”Hello!”
”Look~”
”Hey! Listen!”
The pesky little fly buzzed incessantly, fluttering about in random, annoying patterns. The sound of her wings flapping sharply in the air created a high-pitched noise that must have had a reserved space in the deep levels of hell, right next to mosquitoes. The blue haired mercenary squatted the air with his hands to no avail, unable to get one good hit on the annoying little bugger.
”Watch Out!”
The tiny acute voice doubled down, as if mocking the increasingly annoyed attempts of the warrior to silence her. ”Shut uuuuuuuup!” Kenzo pleaded, hoping his words would at the very least distract the little faerie long enough to finally hit it square. Alas, his hand found empty air once again. Frustrated, the man slouched against a tree as he tried to regain his temper.
”Come ooon… why won’t you at least ask me a more normal riddle like: “What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening? this stupid riddle of yours makes no sense.”
Kenzo knew it was futile trying to bargain with the little faerie. He’d tried for the first 2 or 3 hours of his plight. At this point, he was starting to run out of ideas.
It had all started with the man taking out a request at a nearby village. The enchanted forests of Caelum were far from the places the blue-haired swordsman used to frequent, but his quest through the land to gather information had taken him to even this remote place of Earthland. The locals had tried to warn him, telling him of tales and legends of mischievous faeries of the forest trapping unsuspecting wanderers in illusionary prisons.
Dismissing all this as just another case of local villager folklore, Kenzo had confidently wandered into the woods, sure he could tackle any challenge thrown his way. It didn’t take long for the man to cross into the realms of the mischievous spirits, and after a couple of hours of unsuccessful guessing, he’d begun to fear he wasn’t as clever as he thought.
As the creeping realization that perhaps he didn’t have the plot armor of the protagonist came upon him, he felt a drop of cold sweat roll down his spine.
”I mean.. How the hell am I supposed to answer Why is a raven like a writing desk? ?”
WC: 397