Despite her curiosity, it was too much of a risk knowing she'd have to do the same. "I'm tired and look it, so I can't. Is there anything else?"
The stranger pondered for a bit.
"What do you think of The Prophet Protector?"
His fingers slid to her table, and her body tensed. It was so sudden, and each time his gloved hand traced over the wood, her heart spiked up.
He slowly traced back, leaving only a small slip of painted parchment behind. It was of The Prophet.
It showed a young handsome man with long streaks of silken black hair and a solemn gaze. He had a relatively strong pose yet seemed peaceful as he sat like a lotus.
Behind him were his two guardians. A disciple who learned from Hāto staring dotingly and Hāto himself, who seemed to look away, yet kept his body tilted to the Prophet in a protective stance.
"The only Protector known to be a man, correct?" she asked.
She didn't know much about the Prophet, but he was one of the most notorious figures that remained in scrolls of the Curo-Cari period, a long time of peace after a great war.
Yet he didn't even have a recorded name besides The Prophet Protector.
"I don't think much of him. Some believe he did good and others bad. He was there during the war between the Quadrant Lands and was seen as the leader of the realm after. What else was there to him?"
The stranger let his head rest on his hand, his elbow holding him up, as he stared. He edged his body even closer, that earthlike scent wavering over.
She inhaled it deeply, feeling that unsettling sensation ripple through her again.
"W-what do you think of him?" she stammered through her words.
"You want to hear from me?" he asked teasingly. "The one whose silence is so sweet and whose lips are best shut?"
I guess he didn't like my poem that much.
Salīa couldn't bring herself to beg, so the silence swept between them while the music swayed on, urging him.
"I think he's beautiful. From the shine of his hair to the shape of his feet and every little part in between that."
Salīa's brows arched up as she stared at this man who was clearly amused by her disdain.
"Don't you think it's ill-mannered to worship the male form in a place meant to worship the female form?"
It seemed only Salīa was bothered as the flower-girls beamed without a worry to spare.
"That's such a young thing to say," the stranger smiled coldly. "If lust were the reason, you might be just in your words. But think of it like this. If I love you in the vessel that you're in now and you reincarnate in the opposite vessel, would you want me to stop loving you for such a reason?"
Her heart fluttered at those words. Maybe it's because there was something warm in the words, I love you.
She often felt nauseous hearing it. It seemed like something said too casually, often in the form of an empty promise or a pitiful demand.
"Whether you love someone as a woman or a man makes no difference. That in itself is not shameful. Yet if you're going to parade words like love around, at least right now, use it to admire the flower-girls who create such art to please you."
She heard him huff out a hearty, "Ha!" as he sat up straight.
"I suppose you're right," he gestured to the flower-girls. "A private room, then?"
They nodded gleefully as they'd got up to prepare one. Salīa felt even more contempt bubble up within.
What a shameless man.
Flower-houses weren't brothels, but some were more tolerant of similar services. And Salīa wasn't certain of just how tolerant this flower-house was in their private rooms.
She was busy fussing up a storm in her head long before she noticed his gaze again, this time lingering on her bosom.
Her hands quickly covered her chest as she scoffed.
This only had the stranger chuckling, then he clinked a round, clock-like device into his pockets.
"Thank you for indulging me," he touched his hat. "But I suppose your lover is waiting for you, and it wouldn't be right for you to be as ill-mannered as me. Blessed night, ama."
She felt herself flush with heat as he walked away. She hated it whenever a man addressed her as ama. It riled her up.
While it was a term of endearment meaning my love and was often used between partners, it was also used by philanderers to refer to their conquests without having to remember their names.
"Ugh," she muttered, and offered Shiro the last of her coin.
"Blessings to you, wanderer. I do believe this meeting was auspicious and for that I'm very grateful." She then winked and said, "Wishing you an Ama-blessed union with your lover."
"Blessings," Salīa quickly made her way out.
Her thoughts quickly drifted to the lover in question. It was strange that he was able to sense I had one. Well, someone close enough to be one.
Yet maybe he was the type who knew such things after chasing after women and possibly men for so long.
Salīa wasn't exactly innocent of flirting with herself, yet she never took to enticing those who were taken. Not that she was exactly taken herself.
Yet regardless, it was true that she'd been away long enough, and she dreaded whatever consequence would come with that.
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