Gods of the Aether

The humid air engulfed the electric arc turbine as it coughed and twisted in the night, greased with the fat of crushed fairies.

Don't fret over your cousins, dear.

I know the little buggers are technically not animals...
but it's the only way if you wan to keep the gears
turning JUST right.

I was named Gossamer Willowfly.

But you can't blame me for that.