Elion drifted through the narrow lanes like a leaf with no breeze to claim it. Morning market bustled around him, smiths hammering, children racing, Marchand shouting prices with desperation of a sunk vessel trying not to drown. And Elion... he simply wandered, hands in his pocket, mind empty like a sky after rain.
People in the town has a nickname for him; the idle wind
Not harmful, not helpful, just there...
and so he had been since both parents died.
He paused near a wooden railing overlooking the stream that Brimholt. It glittered under the sun taunting him with purpose. Everything flowed. Even rivers, Even dirt. Except him.
"Troubled sweetie?
You look like someone waiting to be stolen."
The voice curled around him like perfume.
Elion turned, a woman leaning against a post, smile carved in softness, hair dropped like a promise.She was the goddess of beauty he thought, not beauty like those of tavern dancers but quieter, warmer, the kind that slip into a lonely heart and make itself at home. She had the kind of beauty that do not announce itself- it ambushed.
Elion blinked. "Me?. Troubled?. No, just thinking."
"Thinking usually means trouble", she laughs stepping forward.
Her presence was warm, coaxing, almost too gentle.
The woman stood there with a smile that felt like it has been crafted especially for him.
She brushed her finger into his arm down his arm, as though reading a story written on his skin.
He froze up. "Uh... yes. How?"
Elion hesitated, the way a naive boy hesitate before stepping into mud, he doesn't yet know how deep.
And yet, he followed when she beckoned. Because what else was he doing?. What else does he ever do?
Her fingers were gentle, her eyes soft enough make him forget how full the day has been. She leaned in, close enough for him to taste the sweetness of her breath.
For the first time in a long while, Elion felt seen.
Not as a wanderer or a joke whispered in the tavern.
But as someone worth stopping for.
Her hand slid into his warm and persuasive.
"Walk with me?"
And Elion- starved for even a flicker of affection - followed her.
Elion followed her home- his home. As soon as they stepped inside, she closed the door with a slow click, that echoed through the empty room like a promise.
Her presence filled the space.
Close,Comforting.
Too close.
She brushed dust from his shoulder, touched his jaw gently and smiled as if she saw something beautiful beneath his self-doubt. Elion found himself leaning into her- in the illusion that someone wanted him to.
In response, she stepped fully into his space, her hands sliding to his chest, like she was learning the shape of a secret. She pressed him gently against the wall, with her forehead brushing his. Her voice sinking into a whisper shaped like desire.
"I've always wondered what you hide beneath that quiet look."
Elion breath hitched.
Her lips brushed his.
Her fingers tangled lightly in his shirt, tugging him closer to her in a way that made his pulse stumbled.
He wasn't used to being touched. So when she fully, pressing her self against him. He believed for a moment.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Elion found himself on his bed, he can still remember the intimate moment that had just passed. He looked around for the trace of his company, but found no one. She has disappeared to thin air.
All he heard was whispers from outside.
A stranger had arrived.
Cloaked in dark robe carrying the air of someone that knows more than he should.
Searching for someone destiny has marked.
The stranger was Morvian.