Thula was the eldest of the fairies at the river's bend. She served as a matron for the younger fairies, educating them in the ways of water-magic and their fae culture. She was the one who had brought the fairies up, teaching them to sing and to fly, and watching over them night and day.
Thula herself was not a river fairy like the others, though. No, With her blue-white skin and sapphire hair, anybody who knew could tell immediately. Thula was an ocean fairy, a sea fairy displaced. She had both the wisdom and the power of the majestic oceans. Her raiment was like seafoam, her voice like cresting waves. She could rock you to sleep just as well as she could drown you.
She longed for her birthplace. Despite the centuries she had spent away from it, the sea still called to her with every breath of wind that passed through her canopy home. She could smell the salt air on the wind, taste the waves on the tip of her tongue. At one thousand - one hundred - twenty six, she was not a spry fairy, but still long from her end days, and she resolved to return back to her seas in her lifetime.
Sea fairy that she was, she did not dwell upon the riverbank longer than she needed. Once she had taught the little ones to use their wings, and once she was confident that they would not come plummeting out of the sky, she established herself a home atop one of the towering trees at the river's edge. She crafted a simple home of wide leaves and branches, and magicked it against the strong winds and swaying trees.
While the young ones were content to play and frolic amongst themselves in the bushes below, Thula longed for the open air and the connections she still retained with other fairy colonies in the area. Fairies were familial creatures, and interacted rarely with others from other families. Though necessity sometimes called for it, so Thula made sure she was readily available, if there came need for her.
It seemed that there had now arisen a need for her.
"Thulaaaaa!" "Thuuuuuula!" cried the young fairies, flying up to Thula's treetop home.
Stirring from her restful meditations, Thula opened a single eye, watching through a window as the four young ones alighted delicately on her porch.
Her home was expertly built for the comfort of a single inhabitant. The floors were sticks, cut in half long-wise and bound together by thin shoots of grass strengthened by fae magics. The walls were shaped in a similar fashion, though they were bowed slightly to allow the most of the wind to pass easily over and around the home. The furniture was sparse; a single hand-carven chair, wrought from a single piece of wood by Thula herself. It was intricately designed, depicting images of the sea and the life therein. Four woven grass mats sat on the floor immediately in front of the chair, and that was where the young fairies took their lessons. Next to the chair was a small table, upon which were laden several leafs of paper and a small inkwell. Here Thula recorded her histories and other thoughts, so that the young ones might still share in her wisdom after she had gone. The door was another carven piece of wood, though particularly special. It was a piece of driftwood that had come down the river, originating in the sea. Thula had been delighted at the find. She could smell the sea off of it, rich with salt and life.