Both these words screamed Sticky and friends to me, so I'm returning to the pixies' world.
I offer the following in response: Summoned to Seer's Well
“You’ve got something on your chin,” Sellamina licked her thumb to wipe the smudge away.
Sticky pushed her away gently before rubbing his cheek. “Sella, stop. I’ll do it.”
Lily and Pocker exchanged troubled glances. “What does Seeress want to see you for this time? What did you do?” Pocker asked.
“I didn’t do nothing,” Sticky replied with less conviction than he felt, his stomach in knots.
Sellamina folded her arms, the shimmer gone from her skin. While her health was improving daily, her energies still suffered from the effects of balinog poisoning. Sticky knew she’d be irritated with him if she could just summon the effort. Instead, worry pooled in her eyes and she sniffed. “Well, even if you did do something to offend her, Sticky, I’m sure she’ll understand that you didn’t mean it.”
It wasn’t the first time Sticky had been summoned to Seer’s Well, nor was it even the fifth. The last time, though, the Seeress made it known that he was dangerously close to being shunned. A shunned, clan-less pixie was certainly a dead one. Facing exile from his sister, his friends, and his beloved woods scared him more than facing down a balinog. His lower lip trembled, “I’ll miss you most, Sella.”
Tears slipped from her eyes. “Oh stop. There’s no need to be dramatic,” she chided, wiping the dampness from her cheeks.
“Sticky-tagger?” the cricketer chirped from the curtained thicket. “The Seeress is ready.”
Friends piled on him, engulfing him in a winged circle of hugs that threatened to keep him in his place. He managed to wrap his arm around his sister, cradling her close. “I-I have to go, now,” he forced the words through the lump in his throat, and the circle dissolved around him.
Timid and alone, Sticky struggled to keep pace behind the cricketer. Seer’s Well was at the end of a narrow shaft and buried in the earth a million seasons ago. In the center of the grand chamber lay the Pearl, the obsidian-black vessel the Seeress used to divine pasts and predict futures. Cricketers and clan-elders would fill the cavernous space on celebration days, packed in so tight there wasn’t room for wings to move. This day though, the Well was unoccupied, save for the Seeress perched on her throne of acorns behind the Pearl.
“Come, Sticky-tagger, come.” The Seeress stretched out a welcoming hand, her silvery gossamer-wings glistened with honeydew. “Let us not stand on ceremony.”
Obedient, Sticky hastened to her side and blurted out his fears, “Seeress, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She looked confused, “Sorry for what?”
Sticky sniffed, “For whatever it was I did that I'm being shunned for?”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling merrily. “Oh, child, I’m not shunning you. I was going to ask you for a favor.”
“Oh?” Sticky asked, hope returning to his heart.
“Yes, you’ve an affinity for all things human,” she leaned closer to whisper, “I was wondering if you might fetch me a bit of chocolate.”