“As much as I appreciate the gesture of friendship you have offered; I have come to request something specific. Perhaps something a friend may do for a friend.”
He sighed and folded his hands behind his back. The corners of his mouth fell gloomily and drew Storm’s attention. Her features softened and her wings wilted behind her. The emptiness was unmistakable. He continued to explain, gesturing with one hand.
“You see, My Dear Lady, I am growing old and sickly--” he balled his fist and coughed into it, “--and I would love nothing more than to have some companionship and some lovely singing in my last days.”
Storm inhaled sharply and covered her mouth with her hand as her eyebrows climbed up toward her hairline. Her small squeak was muffled until she dropped her hand to reach for his. She brought his hand to her cheek with both of hers and spoke desperately.
“Oh my Dear, Dear Alastor, Sir! I will do it. I will come and sing for you and tell you stories about the Dandelions.”
She inhaled raggedly as tears welled in her eyes. Alastor eased his hand from her grasp, pressing his lips together. Was he smiling? Or grimacing? Was he in pain? Storm let out a soft squeal.
“Alastor! Oh I’m sorry! I hope I didn’t hurt you, Sir! I could ease your pain a little.”
She reached her hand towards his chest and he swiftly snatched her fingers just inches from his heart and brought them to his lips. Storm gasped and her eyes snapped to her fingers before sliding up to his heavy lidded stare. As a muse, her empathic ability was bombarded. She expected to feel pain, but instead her face and body felt as if she were standing in front of the sun.
If that wasn’t enough, Alastor placed a slow lingering kiss upon the tips of her delicate fingers and said, “My nivalo kitsuk Ar’rn… I’m afraid that it is too late for some things.”
He let her hand slip from his grasp and turned his body away from her to pace a few steps. Storm stood there gaping. She had the ability to regulate her own body temperature, however, just then her spider silk tunic was feeling heavy.
My nivalo kitsuk Ar’rn. She repeated in her mind a few times. It meant: “My lovely little Storm” in the ancient Keaya’varian tongue. Storm could recall certain pieces of knowledge given to her on her creation day. The old Elven language was one of those gifts. No one ever spoke that way anymore, save for the elder Elves, yet those words sounded so elegant rolling off his tongue, and Storm felt his smooth voice travel from her porcelain tapered ears to her rapidly beating heart. If she could’ve floated out of her tall black boots, she would have. Instead she remained transfixed; staring like a milksop.
Alastor folded his arms across his chest and glanced over his shoulder at Storm. He gave her a small grin and let it fade before he continued.
“My current condition is quite terminal. There is no cure, so I can only hope to make the most of my time here.”
He turned to face her completely; his lips painting a thin somber line across his face. He waited for a few moments, watching her. His eyes roamed her features. Storm assumed he was searching for more of an answer and she was just about to open her mouth to respond when Alastor suddenly closed the distance between them. A brief second of lucid thought told her she should run but something about being so close to him; the scent of amber, the warmth, his voice, it all compelled her to stay right where she stood. He cupped her face in his hands and she knew right away she was as helpless as a kitten. She swallowed hard as her heart felt as though it might punch right out of her chest. She felt his hands trembling as they tightened slightly; his eyes penetrating. She could not look away. She really didn’t know if she wanted to. He spoke in a rough whisper.
“So I have your promise then, Dear Ar’rn?”
Storm nodded and licked her lips.
“M-hm.”
He softened and his hands relaxed a bit. He smiled gently and brushed the thumb of one hand over her lips.
“Good girl.” He whispered again, “Then I will meet you here on the morrow at the same time, Okay?” Storm nodded again.
“Yes, Sir.” She said quietly.
She closed her eyes and a chill lingered all around her as she no longer felt him standing near her. She rubbed her arms in a vain attempt at soothing the cold empty air. She opened her eyes just in time to see Niam drifting in a lazy circle to the ground below. Alastor was gone without a trace.
