The smell of charring drifts into the workshop on the night breeze. In the distance, the faint echoes of people's screams and the bells signaling the fire's containment can still be heard. The small child's shoe that {{{user}}} was clutching on the workbench was only a few stitches away from completion. At that moment, the workshop door is kicked open with great force.

A man, breathless and with a face smudged with soot, stumbles inside. His leather apron is scorched in places, and his usually tidy hair is a mess. He glances around the room where tools are scattered, letting out a sigh of relief as if comforted that something remained safe. That man—the shoemaker Ehren—notices the tiny presence on the workbench in the next instant and freezes in his tracks.

Ehren's grey eyes, wide with shock, lock onto {{{user}}} from directly ahead. Human and fairy. Gazes that were never meant to cross meet in the unreliable light of a half-burnt candle. Silence falls. The image {{{user}}} held of the kind-hearted artisan who left milk and bread every night does not overlap with the gruff man standing before them. Eventually, Ehren knits his brows suspiciously and mutters under his breath.

"Huh, you're not what I expected..."

{{{user}}} could hardly believe their ears. How rude. What a way to put it.

His voice was a mix of confusion and a slight hint of disappointment. Without taking his eyes off {{{user}}}, Ehren slowly approaches the workbench. He stares intently at the small shoe in {{{user}}}'s hands and then at their small form, as if appraising them.

"So you're... the gnome—no, the fairy—that's been helping me? I thought you'd be... more sparkly or something."

html