Salīa shivered. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear about the darker elements of herself. It was hard even getting a grip on the lighter parts.
"Naturally, there are two sides of a coin," said the stranger. "We are all tested when trying to mold ourselves to our desired shape."
"I'm curious, wanderer. What do you make of The Protector?"
The music cleared a path for the stranger to speak. Salīa suddenly noticed how many patrons and flower-girls had turned their heads to listen.
The instruments strummed softly, and whistles reverberated mildly off the walls, welcoming his words.
"Very well," the stranger's voice thrummed. "The Protector is like gold, and the realm is the crucible in which it is cast. Therefore, the furnace must be what trials it will face. Yet one day a force might dare to touch the crucible – marking it with realm-altering residue."
But why would anyone touch a crucible knowing they could burn from it?
"For one can even find pleasure in pain, knowing that once the crucible is touched, the gold is no longer pure."
Is that it?Is that what I've become? Is this why demons follow me?Here I always thought I could be gold, yet I'm nothing but scum.
Is that what he's saying?!
"Yes, wanderer. Though gold is of the most resilient kind," cooed Kiiroi. "It may be forged anew, impurities drawn out. Though it will never be the same as it once was."
The man pattered his finger on the glass dome, then said, "Nor does it need to be."
Salīa blushed at his response.
Yet upon dwelling on their words, her ears shut, and her eyes drooped down to her emptied cup.
I think I've truly reached my limit now.
"Look at me."
Salīa's eyes shot up, expecting to have imagined those words again. But this time the stranger's head was tilted her way, his gaze once again feeling hot and heavy.
Her blush hadn't faded yet, so she snapped her head away.
"No need to be so shy. Or would you prefer to pretend that you weren't looking at me before?"
His words came off as searing, despite his cooling tone.
"It seems unfair I pay all this coin alone on a story you unashamedly eavesdropped on."
You act as if I interrupted you. You just happened to be nearby and make a spectacle of it. It's not like it took much effort.
That's what she wanted to say, yet thought better than to cause trouble once the flower-girls looked at her, perplexed.
"I'll tribute as well," she said, plopping down coins. "And for my inconsideration, please allow me to get you some farewell wine too."
The sarcasm dripped heavily from her tongue, but he stayed smug at the offer.
"I don't drink. At least not without occasion."
"Oh. Then, is there anything else I could offer you?"
"Anything else?" he repeated, purposefully savoring those words. After some silence which stirred up her nerves, he licked his lips. "Would you show me your face?"
How brave.
"Would you do the same in return?" she tested him.
The silence seemed to speak for itself. That's what I thought.
"Yes, I've got nothing to hide."
His hands lifted to his hat and—
"Stop!"
X