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Gulp.

"A... a man? What did he look like?" Her words were rushed, and she tightened her grip on Vanna protectively. A flower-like name... could she be talking about Leax? She had to be. Had to be.

"I'm sorry, it's just - I think I may know who you're talking about. And if I'm right... I need to find him."

"I won't do it. A mother can't..." she began to protest, but a small, clawed hand at her sleeve stopped her.

"Mom..." he looked up at her, his face still moist with his tears, and she knew from the look in his eyes. It broke her heart. But she knew.

"I don't want to hurt you, Pierre. I can't."

"Mom, please." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Please." It was so absurd a request that she almost laughed- and he was laying it on so thickly. ...He always did, these days. He was completely unlike her son. It was then, looking down at his atypically sweet face, that she realized that it had to be done. Her hand went to her waist- not to the daggers- even the healing dagger- where they waited... but to the Belt she'd recently purchased. On it, a collection of poisons and draughts that she did not recognize. Only one seemed to be... a cautious blend- a light yellow grey juice that sloshed lazily against the glass that held it.

She looked at Marissa, but the decision was hers. Up ahead, she knew Valelldia was near, as was Oqaia- and if she needed to, she would use her healing dagger against the boy.

"Oh, I hope you know what you're doing." she handed the vial to Pierre, and gave him a look so stern it might have curdled milk. "No more than three drops. Not even a lick more, do you understand me?" Her heart pounded against her chest. There were things in this world she did not understand- but following what she believed had never let her down before.

The boy dropped three small, almost dainty drops of the gold-grey poison into his palm, and looked up once more at his mother. Her hand was as ready on her dagger, and sweat broke out on her brow.

Please... she thought... do not take my son from me. She hoped the meij was listening.

He licked his palm clean.

When Pierre licked the poison from his palm, it didn't even bother to slide down the gullet of his throat and into his stomach. Instead, as soon as he touched his tongue to it, his salivary glands accepted the poison. It soaked up the three drops- seized on them, really. And then, the boy fell to the earth. Before his mother would have a chance to scream, however, the response was quick- the white... practically bled from him. As soon as it started to drain away into nothing, Pierre began to crawl to his feet once more. He watched in awe with his mother and those around as the coloring returned to him.

When it was all nearly away, Pierre pulled the wooden sword from his side and thrashed it against the wheel of Swizzlet's cart. He continued to thrash the sword around, giddy with his regained ability to be naughty- to be wrong... to be... himself.

And the meij recognized the change. It saw the release of all the tension that had been building up for so very long, and saw that, for all the terribly wrong reasons- the child was ready.

He was encapsulated in a golden brown light, nearly blinding- and then, when the light was gone... he remained- more himself than he had been before, when the curse was still strong- but even so, not the little boy his mother knew. He was... a young man. A teenager. And still with the very thin remnants of his curse, still upon him due to his impatience in his change... and one red eye, a sign that spoke to something... but what?

"Oh... oh. I'm sorry, I just - I'm very confused. I..."

She pursed her lips again, thinking.

"I don't think he has wings. Unless they sprouted after I last met him. Actually, I don't remember seeing anybody from that caravan with wings. ... Why?"

Vanna, meanwhile, was holding out her half-eaten sweet to the woman expectantly.

"Because the only man I've met from HoneyBlossom was... Oh, you little darling. Thank you." She gave the little girl a pat on the head and accepted the half-eaten sweet. She, apparently, had no compunction taking food from a child. She popped it in her mouth and rolled it to one side of her cheek. "Anyway... oh, the only man I've met from the HoneyBlossom said he was travelling with them. Orrel. I'd remember his name at anything. He was delicious, too. Can't miss him- he has big white wings. Goooorgeous man. I could lick the feathers right off him, you know." She grinned, but not aplogetically. "Anyway, if you need to find someone from that caravan, it'd probably be easier to find him than to find the man you're looking for."

Orrel... Orrel... that name sounded familia-

"Orrel!" she shouted, practically tripping over her own feet. "He knows Leax! Leax told me to look for him, and... and...

"Where did you see him?" Her one open eye was wide. Orrel knew of the Icarus protectorate - she had to let Lesh and Anezka know. And besides that, he was a friend of Leax's!

Marissa glanced down and said, a little stumblingly, "Oh...this...he..." She hugged the candle close. She was sure if she could trust anyone, it would most likely be the friendly Filor.

"This is my son, Kale. He's a toddler- or rather, he was, before the fa'es took him away, as an offering to some woodland idol of youth...they changed him to this form. I've no idea how to help him."

"Ohhh, I'm sorry to hear that. Well, that's something a little more complicated. I can't give you an easy answer for that one. But if he's the fire element he looks to be..." she eyed the candle through the slats in her cart, since she'd since sloughed down to an almost horizontal line, "then you should look for the Northern King. ...The Northern Sentinel Loch. Most humans don't pay him much mind- but he's very wise, at least where water-based magic is concerned. You'll need something water-based to return him to his station."