[she doesn't know that the world is turning just for her]

skill: [none]

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His shoulder alighted with her, an entirely intentional action, and Euphemia felt the breath get caught in her chest.

So, this was what it was like – when a man had interested in you. When he went out of his way to know more about you; when he made excuses to touch, just to feel the spark of it. It was then that her pure delight was somewhat stifled at the realization that this was perhaps the first time in her life an individual had touched her that way. Beyond her family, this was the first time anyone had paid her any mind.

It felt like fire.

He was talking about the plants, and Euphemia felt a sense of gratefulness bloom within her chest for him. With any other subject, the maiden would be lost! But his confusion about the herbs she gathered made her giggle nervously, struggling to know what to say, even though this was her most prized topic. Everything sounded so stupid when she spoke it first in her mind. Well, if you had the flux, you’d be happy to have that plant in particular, was what she said, and then Euphemia gazed (perhaps for the last time) at the white sprigs of yarrow at the base of the tree.

Then, looking at him, she promptly forgot about them.

Suddenly, she found her words. I can’t hunt herds that well. Every deer looks the same to me, the maiden suggested softly, sharing her grand realization with him. She attempted to take in the full sight of him, remarking internally about his coat and how they both sported pelts of grey-phase. But someone with a hunter’s trained eye can easily… espy the perfect prey. His was darker, and hers was lighter. She might not be able to tell a stag from a doe, but she could see that.

With enough experience, I assume you can almost read their minds. Predict where they’re going to go... At least, that’s what she noticed when she lay witness to the grand nature of a hunt. When a large animal was to die, the process of it required strategy and experience. She greatly admired those who could, but that’s not me. I just do plants.

Euphemia couldn’t help the way her ears fell.

But then he called her merciful and trusting, and all was right in the world again.

It was easy to tell that this was a man of experience – a man of class, who knew his way around the world. He was unpretentious with it too, she could tell just from the way he spoke about it. Euphemia could sense there was no front about it either, seeing as that was the exact opposite of how she was. What would he stand to gain by lying? It wasn’t like innocent, inexperienced girls ever went for the bad boys anyways. Nope, not she.

Her historical “type” was that of Vidarr – hulking, stoic, unavailable, and married twice. Ric was out of left field.

You’ve needed mending? the silver sylph asked, eyes glittering in endearing interest. He had many scars, so perhaps that should have been obvious. What happened?

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