>As softly as we can, "The dying part."
>"You've housed a number of fairys in your time, right? Don't suppose any of them even talked about it at all."
>Ichirin's frown gives way to a hint of a motherly smile.
>"You know that fairies can't die in the same way that the rest of us do," she says. "If they're seriously injured, they just scatter into the air and spring back into existence a little while later. I suppose it's a little like being knocked unconscious," she muses. "But this means that none of them really understand what it's like to fear death. Even if they were to rush headlong into horrible danger, nothing could truly harm them. Most of the time, they'd scatter before they could even feel real pain. That alone would give someone a very different perspective on the world."
>"Of course, many have lived to see
others die, whether they were a cute forest creature or a human who used to bake them cookies. On some level, I think they may understand that they're gone for good, but a fairy's memory is..." She pauses, frowning. "Well, perhaps I shouldn't say it's necessarily short, but... ephemeral. They are creatures of the moment, much like the nature they embody. They can certainly cry over losses, even trivial ones, but I don't think they understand true grief as we do; it's simply too anchored in the past. There have probably been exceptions, though; there are as many fairies as there are facets of nature itself."
>"As for Honey... If she really does like you, I imagine she'd be quite upset that you 'got all hurt by nasty things'," she says, doing a reasonable impression of a fairy's tone. "Just because they don't carry grief with them doesn't mean they don't care about people."
>Then she pauses and smiles at you a little. "You really have a soft spot for her, don't you?"
