nayru's blues

This pair of earrings has two hand-folded miniature paper cranes in blue, lacquered for strength and durability (very sturdy! Carefully lacquered paper maintains a bit of flex, so they’re reinforced but not brittle), arranged vertically with glass beads of many blues (light, pearlescent blue, frosted blue, a long blue tube), on stainless steel hardware. The wingspan of each crane measures just shy of ¾" (super tiny!), and the bottom of the earring hangs just about 1.5" from the earlobe. Paper cranes are lightweight but substantial, and a few glass beads give these earrings a real good dangle.

~~~

I was just lamenting my decision to get directions from a verbose owl, when I finally spied in the distance the cliff face, and the perfect rectangular doorway he had described to me twice. I trudged up the dune and approached the entrance, even the paltry shade thrown by the palms growing to each side of it was a welcome respite from the desert sun.

It opened into a beautiful cavern; its walls streamed with magical light, and before me, nestled between two braziers of green fire, was a wide fountain with a pool of still, tranquil water. Relieved, I settled onto the cool flagstones and hummed to myself as I started to unwind scarves from my head; rivulets of sand trickled from the layers and my little tune echoed gently around the room.

Without warning, an enormous, scantily-clad woman exploded out of the fountain, shrieking with laughter, and then hovered in the air, smiling down at me. Her smile faded, and she rubbed her eye with a huge fist.

“You’re not the hero of time,” she said. Before I could answer, she added, “and you’re not chic.”

Rude. I glanced down at my outfit. Accurate, though.

“Yeah, no. Sorry. I’m just resting, I’ve had a long journey and I’m-”

“Here for Nayru’s Love?” she interrupted.

“N...no? I’m looking for earrings, but-” I was cut off again by a reverberating SLAP as her palm struck her forehead.

“THE EARRINGS! Stay right there, hang tight a sec, don’t move!” and with that, she dipped soundlessly back into the fountain without a ripple. A moment later, a pair of earrings flicked out of the center of the pool and landed in my lap. One massive hand emerged and twiddled her fingers in a “toodle-ooo”-type motion and then pointed at the door. A young man in a green dress stood there, face impassive, and seemed oblivious to my presence; I stepped aside to let him approach the fountain. He started tooting on some kind of flute or something as I ducked out, but that’s none of my business, so I didn’t stick around.