Falling Mystical

Chapter 4 : Elixir Repercussion

On these particular days, he often longed for a complete disappearance, questioning his purpose in this realm. Yet, as always, he kept these thoughts locked away, for there were few, if any, friends who would lend an ear. He understood that they, too, were burdened with their own lives and inner battles. Solitude held no great weight for him; he had grown accustomed to it since the departure of his parents. His relationships with other relatives were distant, right now he only has his aunt by his side, so the embrace of solitude was initially welcomed.

In this place, those who did not fit in were either shunned or feared and avoided. Despite his status as a royal sorcerer's and a child of one of the greatest among other kingdoms, he often found himself fitting seamlessly into both categories, where he was both feared and disregarded.

He remains perplexed by his sudden change in behavior, pondering the influence of the intoxicating elixir flowing through his bloodstream. Swiftly, he finds himself stationed at his customary spot beneath the tree, dutifully observing her presence. However, in a surprising twist, he is now compelled to approach her with measured steps.

"Why are you always doing this?" When he approached her, he frowned. The bottle was in the bag he had maintained, and his tobacco was at the end of his life.

The woman rose to her feet, her equilibrium momentarily disrupted as she beheld the intrusion of an unfamiliar figure into their sacred sanctuary. However, upon closer inspection of his countenance, she discerned his identity as none other than the ethereal being who had inspired her artistic creation, the very individual she had encountered within the hallowed halls of the art and literature emporium.

With trepidation lingering within her, she found herself perplexed by the sudden discovery of his presence in their sanctuary. Nevertheless, she maintained a composed facade. Men of his ilk, unlike the benevolent Azra, were not always imbued with kindness, even if they were linked by blood or camaraderie. It was a lesson her mother had repeatedly imparted, stressing the eternal truth that not all souls are cast in the same mold. Alas, his very visage did not assuage her apprehension; garbed in a somber hue of ebony and clad in supple leather, he exuded an air of foreboding.

As her eyes met his crinkled nose, a sudden urge to burst into laughter swept over her, momentarily contrasting his demeanor. Yet a swirling unease within her gut urged her to resist surrendering to such intrusive musings. "Ah, I recognize you," she remarked, swiftly composing herself and tightening her grip on the basket, her knuckles turning pale. With her other hand, she delicately smoothed the fabric of her attire.

"Besides, this is also my place. How did you find this place? "He rolled his eyes. He didn't want to hear her stupid words of scolding; he had enough for today.

Looking at her dress, something about it annoyed him. He cannot completely place it. Perhaps because she was wearing yellow, bright colors, just like her attitude, at some point he wanted to put down the light in her. Her eyes fell on the bag he was holding. "Are you drinking here?"

"Does it look like water to you? So if I am, what are you going to do? Scold me?"

"How do you know that I do this all the time, and no, I will not scold you. Who am I to do that?"

In the midst of their interaction, he momentarily halts, fixating his gaze upon her, while she delicately presses her lips together. Her attention then shifts to the bottle, which he firmly grasps. "May I have a taste?" she queries, his raised eyebrows betraying his astonishment. Such an unexpected turn of events, he muses.

"It's just, I've always wanted to, you say it was not water, I just wanted to try something new."

"The whereabouts of your mother remain elusive, and I cannot help but ponder the repercussions that shall ensue upon your try-out of such a new discovery of this transgression, do you not agree?