The Emberwake festival stretched across the village like a living, breathing thing. Lanterns swayed above the cobblestone streets, painting golden patterns on the timbered stalls and the faces of the villagers. Smoke from roasted meats mingled with the sweet scent of candied apples and honeyed pastries. Children ran in loops, weaving through the crowd, screaming in delight, and occasionally colliding with adults or stray goats. The air buzzed with music: drums, flutes, and the occasional blast of a horn.
Asoka adjusted the strap of her bag nervously. Beside her, Eliza darted ahead, snatching a ribbon from a vendor and spinning around with a laugh that rang through the square.
"Slow down!, you're playing like a child" Asoka called, but Eliza only waved back, already twirling toward a stall stacked with carved wooden animals. "You're too careful," Eliza said over her shoulder, grinning. "Lighten up, will you? You're going to trip over your own feet!"
"I'm…just being cautious," Asoka replied, trying not to stumble over a crate of apples. "It's… different."
"Different," Eliza repeated, rolling her eyes and twirling a bit more for good measure. "Call it survival. Watch and learn, dear sister of my heart!"
Asoka exhaled and pushed onward. The square was a sea of people, animals, and jostling stalls. A stray ribbon brushed her shoulder. She yelped, twisted, and almost collided with a cider stall.
"Careful!" the vendor shouted, waving his hands. Asoka blushed furiously and muttered apologies.
Eliza, entirely unfazed, had already moved on, inspecting a stall of brightly painted figurines. Asoka let out a quiet sigh. She wasn't lost yet—but keeping up with Eliza felt like trying to chase a sparrow through the wind.
Then she noticed him. Leaning lightly against a post at the edge of the square, a tall figure stood calm amidst the chaos. Dark hair caught the lantern light, and deep green eyes scanned the festival without haste. His posture was composed, almost regal in its simplicity, yet there was something in the quiet interest of his gaze that made Asoka aware of herself in a way she hadn't been all day.
As she stepped carefully around a small goat, she nearly tripped on a loose plank. The man moved not to intervene, merely observing, his expression neutral.
"I hope I am not in your way," Asoka said nervously as she noticed him more clearly.
"Not at all," he replied smoothly, his voice calm, gentle, yet carrying that faint, restrained amusement one might find in a gentleman who had seen many awkward festivals and found them tolerable in a human sort of way.
"I… I just… I'm trying not to get lost," she stammered, brushing her hair back from her face.
"Understandable," he said. "Emberwake has a way of overwhelming even the most careful traveler."
Her cheeks flushed. "I… I haven't… I mean… I usually…" She faltered.
He inclined his head slightly, politely waiting, his dark gaze never leaving her, though he kept a neutral, composed air. "Take your time," he said. "No one is in a hurry except perhaps the children running over your toes."
Asoka managed a small, awkward laugh. "Yes… the children…"
He gave a small nod. "I am Tristan," he said. "Visiting my mother's stall at the far end. And you?"
"Asoka," she replied quickly. "Thank you… for… not letting me—" She paused, unsure how to continue.
"For?" Tristan asked gently.
"For… almost… falling into the cider stall," she admitted, embarrassed.
"Ah," he said, soft and composed, his lips curling in the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn't reach the eyes. "A small service. Nothing remarkable, I assure you."
Asoka fumbled with her bag, glancing toward where Eliza had disappeared. "She… she wandered," Asoka said softly. "She likes to explore... sometimes."
"Exploration is valuable," Tristan replied in the same calm, measured tone, leaving any amusement entirely to himself. "Festivals are made for wandering."
Asoka swallowed nervously and nodded. For a moment, they walked in silence through the crowd, he had offered to help her find her way, since she had seemed like a lost sheep. Tristan adjusting his path slightly so she could pass without difficulty, offering nothing more than a quiet presence.
A ribbon fell from above, brushing her shoulder. She yelped and nearly collided with a vendor selling candied apples. Tristan's gaze followed her, composed, his green eyes observing every flustered step, yet he said nothing.
"You are… careful," he said quietly, almost conversational, yet entirely polite, as if commenting on the weather rather than her chaos.
"I… I try," she muttered, cheeks burning, she hadn't thought it was a complement or something far from it.
"Mostly successful," he replied calmly, lips tilting in a faint, reserved acknowledgment of her efforts.
A few minutes passed. Lanterns swayed above, storytellers recited tales of forest spirits and whispering statues, and the crowd pressed and moved around them. Asoka's heart had slowed just a fraction, the chaos no longer quite as intimidating. She glanced toward Eliza, who had paused to examine a wooden bird, completely absorbed.
"She's enjoying herself," Tristan said quietly. "Good. Keeps the spirit of Emberwake alive."
Asoka nodded, muttering something about her feet being sore.
Tristan inclined his head. "Then we walk slowly."
she had thought to herself, The sort of quiet, composed presence that made Asoka feel slightly less like she might stumble into disaster.
Finally, they reached a quieter corner, near the edge of the square, where the noise dimmed but the warmth and glow of the festival remained. Lanterns reflected in the fountain, and children's laughter carried faintly through the air.
"I… thank you," Asoka said quietly, glancing at him, cheeks warm. "For helping me… find my way."
"You are welcome," Tristan said softly. "Festivals are for enjoyment, not exhaustion." His voice held no condescension, only that composed amusement that made Asoka feel simultaneously embarrassed and grateful.
Somewhere behind them, Eliza laughed, twirling a figurine in her hands. Asoka felt a quiet relief—her friend was safe, still playful. Tristan's green eyes followed the girl for a moment before returning to Asoka, his expression unreadable, calm, and utterly polite.
"Do you… come to Emberwake often?" Asoka asked, her voice small.
"Only occasionally," he said evenly. "Mother's stall draws me. And the festival is… entertaining, in its way."
Asoka swallowed, her curiosity rising, but she felt her awkwardness more sharply than any interest. "I… I've never really… spoken to a man in this manner before."
"Nor is there any need to rush that," he said softly, composed, still holding that subtle amusement only he knew. "Conversation flows in its own time."
The square continued to hum around them. Lanterns glimmered, children ran past, ribbons fluttered, and the storyteller's voice carried tales of ancient spirits. For the first time in months, Asoka felt a strange lightness threading through her nerves, she had had her thoughts about the Emberwake, the gossips from the women, both her age and older only made her doubt them.
And Asoka, blushing and adjusting her bag once more, realized that for a fleeting moment, the world felt wide and strange, chaotic and delightful, with laughter and lanterns, ribbons and spinning children—and that perhaps, just perhaps, there were people who could navigate the chaos beside her without overwhelming it.