(Untitled)

[goodelf]

This latest arrival is a pathetic sight -- a tiny, spindly creature with batlike ears, a bulbous nose, and huge, wistful, bloodshot brown eyes -- presumably female, to judge by the stained and ragged skirt and blouse. She smells faintly of alcohol and strongly of soap, and is slightly unsteady on her feet. Wobbling up the steps, she knocks on the

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[wishandwait]

Sasha hears the knock from where he's sitting on the side porch swing, writing in a plainly bound book. He looks up and stands, sticking his head around the corner before he steps around it.

"Did you need anything?" he asks gently, curious as anything as to what sort of spirit Winky is - she doesn't look like anyone he's met before.

[goodelf]

It takes her a moment to react to this, teetering precariously as she turns round. "Good morning, miss," she squeaks, with as much dignified politeness as a somewhat tipsy squeak can express. "Does miss have any need for a house-elf?"

[wishandwait]

Sasha crouches. "I'm not sure. What needs do house-elfs look after?"

[goodelf]

This is clearly not the question the creature was expecting. "Winky is a reliable elf, miss, an' is not getting no unna-- un--under-- becoming notions, miss. Winky knows her place, miss!"

Then, blinking a few times, she registers what Sasha actually said. She peers upward doubtfully. "House-elves does whatever they is told, miss. House-elves looks after the house and..." Tears brim.

[mad_leprechaun]

*Sweeney stares, not exactly sober himself*

Holy shit, are you a... leprechaun?

[goodelf]

Winky wobbles a bit in dismay. "No, sir! I is a house-elf, sir! A good English house-elf, what is fallen on bad times." Sniffle. Hiccup.

[mad_leprechaun]

*dismissively* Oh, you're English. And you're way too tiny. What the hell is a house-elf, anyway? Brownie, pisky, hobgoblin, redcap? Help a brother out here.

[goodelf]

She draws herself up to her full height (about twenty inches). "House-elves is house-elves, sir. House-elves is no relation to redcaps at all. Nasty hoodlums, they is."

[three_smiles]

Michael opens the door and looks at her curiously--this has been the week of weird things at DF. Finally he gets down on his knees and pokes her, very, very gently. "Hello."

[goodelf]

"Good morning, sir," Winky pipes, and then falls backward with a squeal -- her balance isn't much to begin with, and people are not in the habit of poking her, ack. "Excuse me, sir!"

[three_smiles]

"Who are you?" Michael asks, and of course his voice is very, very gentle and very loving (it always is; he's an Angel); and he tries to help her sit up or stand back up again.

[goodelf]

"I is Winky, sir," clambering unsteadily to her feet.

[girdleforakiss]

Gawain stops and hangs over the rail of the porch. "Hullo!" he says, "Looking for someone?"

[goodelf]

Winky totters round, managing a precarious bob. "Good morning, miss. Is you belonging to the house, miss?"

[girdleforakiss]

"Not so much," Gawain says easily, and reaches out over the rail to provide something to grab for balance "Watch yourself! No, we live out in the woods. Do you need a place?"

[goodelf]

Winky's eyes get very big and very damp, and her knobbly chin quivers. "Oh, miss-- Winky is a good elf, miss-- Winky is giving satisfaction for many, many years before-- before--"

[dracoslytherin]

*gives Winky a very distasteful look as if he has almost never seen anything quite so disgusting*

[goodelf]

Winky is, alas, quite used to this sort of thing by now, and only stumbles out of his way.