Simple boy he was, that Ryvre. He was wholesome, sweet and blinded stupidly by purity and the innocence in some. He felt as if he was his job to protect and cherish the little bit of kindness in the humans in this realm. He had opened a Tea Cafe, serving Vegan treats and Oolongs as well at Green, White and Black teas. He was content with his long life, after living for so long he grew with some form of wisdom, wisdom of an old tree. 

You see, Ryvre’s tale has had not been told. Ryvre Zeke Matthieu is simply his human realm name. In the Faery realm he is known by another name, and a different race. He is an Earth Fae. His true form is, well. Very intricate in some matter. His fingers are not fleshy and long, thing and molded around bone. But actually long, brown and caked with bark. Moss covers his frame like clothes, and leaves are his hair. In Ryvre’s realm he’s one of the older ones. The living, breathing, and enchanting trees. 

Some call his kind, “Tree people.” And even depicted in some films. Ryvre had always found this amusing, seeing that he was this, and the humans were ever so clever trying to portray his kind with such ferocity and ancientness. All he did was smile, smile for their pleasures and their joy. He loved with the human’s were happy. There wasn’t a better feeling in his heart than to see a tiny human giggle or a female human smile.

Although, there was one woman who did give him a better feeling. She wasn’t human though. He had met her before, when she worked there. Such a sweet girl she was, he had thought. While sitting in the back room of the Cafe, steeping some Rooibos tea. He stared ahead, having brewed tea for over centuries in China with Shaolin monks. He was an expert. 

“Finna, where are you?” 

He asked out loud, looking out of the back window. He’d had seen every young blonde woman walk by hoping it was her. He could remember the talks they had and the smiles they shared, how warm they were just like her little hands. He softly smiled to himself at such memories. They were valuable and quite vivid in his mind. He gave off a small snort. Calling himself foolish to think of her that way. But he couldn’t help it, perhaps he did have feelings for her. He became flustered, burning himself. Lifting him finger towards his face and squinting, finally upset for once in his life, from the corner of his eye he spot a woven basket. It carried pink mushrooms inside, and a note.

A note from her. He could feel her near. He could smell her. And he was happy.