The fairy handed you the mist flower. “Sure it’s perfectly safe for humans.”
You take the flower and, holding in your first two fingers, as the fairy did, drew in the mist from the stem. The taste was as if flower petals were dancing across your tongue. You draw the mist into your lungs, it was gentle, yet exhilarating going down your windpipe; and, as you exhaled, you subconsciously imagine yourself blowing fairy dust. “Wow,” you begin, unable to find the words to compare your experience, “that’s something else.”
You hand the flower back to the fairy, who says, “Go ahead and finish it.”
“Oh, thank you.” You said. As you sit down on the windowsill, you observe the fairy staring out the window; you think back to what the fairy said earlier about humans. “You seem pretty easygoing.” You said, before taking another puff from the flower.
“It’s somewhat of our nature. We come and go as we please; anything we need, the forest can provide, either naturally, or created through our magic. We also take great joy in flying, and I’m aware our propensity for mischief is well known, even on the Earth Side. Which reminds me, I made you a promise last night. We need to get you back home.”