Avellenaro ensures his experiment will continue

Minn doesn’t really keep count of the mites, nor of the time that passes. Details were never their strong suit, and the passage of time has never mattered anyway in the eternal moment of the fey. They watch, half-mesmerised, half-scheming, poised for their chance to intervene. Taking in sights that, no matter what happens, they’ll certainly never forget.

Sooner or later, the mites will need to rest. Sooner or later, there’ll be an opening. Lux is doing great work down there, wearing them out. It’s a team effort, really.

Finally, the level of activity begins to die down. More mites have moved away than are still queuing up for their turn; quite a few are already going back to sleep, sated for now. Lux herself might have passed out for a while back there, her moans rarely loud enough at this point to carry very far.

Patience was never Minn’s strong suit either. But, no, can’t rush it. Just a matter of waiting for a chance to…

Footsteps. A clink of glass on glass. Avello-something, the gnome, moving closer. Too focused, too lost in worry, Minn’s instinct to react comes too late.

A sudden warm, sweaty grip – the gnome’s stubby hand closes around Minn’s body. A jolt of movement. Minn looks around in time to see a dark shape, before—

Blackness swallows up the world. Minn flails angrily, wings beating, arms and legs tangling in scratchy softness. A bag?! Who would dare to trap a sprite in a bag? Well, lots of fey would, granted, but for a mortal to try it, the sheer nerve—!

“Cease your wriggling.” Avellenaro’s voice seems to come from far away. “You’ll not be harmed – I want no quarrel with the fey-folk of this place. I’ll just be keeping you out of the way until there’s nothing left to be learned from this experiment. Then you can flutter free to annoy someone else.”

Screeching incoherent imprecations, Minn continues to thrash. Oh, this gnome is so dead as soon as – as soon as Minn finds someone big enough to take him—

“Cease means stop.” Another glassy clink. “I have a little something I’ve been meaning to test on one of your kind.” The muffled pop of a cork nearby. “Here – now, deep breaths…”

A sickly, pungent scent. The beating of Minn’s wings falters. Limbs starting to get heavy. Strange sensation – almost like –

Minn’s thoughts feel slow and fuzzy. Sleepy. What is this? Curiosity glimmers in the deepening dark. But Lux – will she be all right – if…?