From my current elf WIP: Traces of Poppy
"Throwing things again I see. The Feral have you all choked up?" The voice came from the gnome, Wicka, Drayden hired to clean up. She was okay for a gnome. Her blonde ponytail bobbed as she stretched her short form up the wall to clean off the coffee.
"Stay out of my business, gnome," Drayden warned. He didn't mind the species so much, but they weren't exactly high up in the elfin social structure either. They did odd jobs, most of them dirty. But they were good people in general. Happy little folks who sang a lot.
"Wicka." She didn't even stop to look at him. They'd discussed her name several times over the last week since he'd hired her.
"What do you know of the Feral?" Drayden propped his feet up on the chair next to him and slumped back to glare at her. His people didn't like to discuss their cursed disease to other species. He doubted a great deal that she knew much more than its name and that it had to do with elves. Most species knew two things about the elven race, there were elves and then there were drow. Hardly anyone other than an elf knew the drow were once elves.
"I know of a witch who could help you cure it." Wicka turned to pierce him with bright green eyes.
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