Mellie only half listened to the other gentleman's speech, her mind focused on the rose. It almost seemed familiar in a way, something about it was calling out to her and she didn't know how to explain it. She frowned as she leaned over, her finger just barely brushing it, as if begging it to tell her what was so familiar about it. She noticed Lord Upton glance at her curiously, though he seemed caught up in the words directed at him.

The gentleman seemed so confident, a far cry from how she felt. Why was she here, why had that old man at the shop thought she'd be useful? She only knew stories, legends, faerie tales... she had lived with them growing up, as real to her people as the sun in the sky. She could recall each tale quite well, they had been when she held onto as she grew older and the world became a crueler place than she could have even imagined. Beyond that she knew so little, no connections with people, no idea of one town from the next.

"Of course I shall aid you however I can, Mr. Heathcote, as shall the many contacts I posses." Lord Upton paused, looking at the two of them with a small, kind smile. "You may not know where to start, but I think our friend here knows more than she has let on." He had turned to Mellie and she blanched, not enjoying the spotlight being put on her for the moment. She knew nothing! Yet, it all seemed so familiar... Panic struck her as she worked hard to remember where she had seen something so similar before.

"Aes Sídhe..." She muttered under her breath, her native language for the faerie folk coming back to her. How easily she could recall the elder of the caravan whispered stories about them, how to avoid their wrath, to keep the friend rather than foe. She had grown to believe they were as beautiful as they were dangerous, and faeries could be anywhere. A story she had been told as just a wee one, late at night circled around the fire, came to her. "The elder once told us a story, of a human man who had fallen from his horse, injured terribly and left in the woods to perish..." She began her story, the Irish more pronounced than ever as she recalled the way it had been told to her. "He was found by one of the faerie folk, a female, who healed him of his injuries. Afraid of his wrath, for all faeries avoid humans, she posed as a young maiden. When he awoke he was so enchanted by the pretty young woman who saved his life that he whisked her away to his home." She paused, trying to remember how the story went, sad that she didn't posses the same gift for storytelling as the elder had.

"He was so handsome, so kind that the fey didn't see the problem in staying, but she didn't dare reveal herself. Over time she grew to love the human, and their love brought them a child, but she had been too long from home, had struggled too long, her kind unable to sustain themselves in the guise of a human for overly long. The night the babe was to be born she realized she would not survive. Unable to confess to the lie she had committed she instead hid herself in the forest, among a bed of wild daisies and heather. It was there she had the babe. Later, when the man searched for his wife he noticed the sun glinting off something bright in the woods nearby the hut, the small clearing had turned to silver, the daisies frozen in time, and among them lie the infant, birthed to a faerie and a human. The babe was so small it could fit into his palm, a girl child who split her time between her father's people and the creatures of the forest..."

Mellie had allowed herself to get lost in the tale, enjoying going back to a moment before things had gotten to complicated. She frowned when she noticed Lord Upton staring at her, the most curious look on his face. Did he think her insane?