In the morning, I walked up to the door of our room. Knock-knock. Without waiting for an answer, I threw the sash open and flew inside with a running start, sliding spectacularly across the floor on my soles. Alastia was just opening her eyes, squinting from the morning light. I braked sharply right at the bed, holding out a glass of water in front of .
"Drink up, you'll feel better," I stated confidently.
She obediently took the glass and took a few sips. A warm wave of green light imdiately rippled through her body—healing magic quickly and gently washed all the consequences of yesterday's three kegs of beer out of her.
And I, anwhile, with the air of a seasoned magician, pulled a chocolate bar from behind my back. Alastia looked at the treat, squinted, and smiled slyly.
"But I like white chocolate," she drawled.
"No problem!" I tossed the bar into the air. It did three flips and landed back in my palm, having already changed color. "And here's white chocolate! I knew you preferred exactly this kind."
Alastia took the sweet with a smile and broke off a piece. I sat down next to her on the edge of the bed—honestly, I wouldn't mind so chocolate myself right now.
"Zenhald," she looked at
craftily, "actually, I like it with nuts."
"Alright," I agreed easily, not losing any enthusiasm. "Any whim for such a beauty!"
I took the bar back from her and tossed it into the air again. A loud snap of my fingers. I unwrapped it, revealing a massive whole nut sticking right out of the middle.
"Oh, forgot to crush it, but whatever!"
I handed the chocolate back to her. She cheerfully bit off a piece and set the bar aside on the nightstand.
I looked at her and pondered. I perfectly understand that we all want to be needed, desired, we all need attention. But it seems Alastia wants sothing more... And after yesterday's late-night soul-searching on the empty street, I firmly decided that I wouldn't distance myself anymore. Since I took it upon myself to be around, it ans I will act normally, and not like a dreary burden.
"Alright, let's go!" I commanded joyfully and held out my hand to help her up.
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Alastia placed her palm in mine.
"HUP!" I pulled her toward
with all my might, hoisting her to her feet with a jerk.
"The plan for today is I want to explore this city!"
I squeezed her palm tightly and pulled her after .
"Alastia, hurry up!" I rushed her, weaving between passersby. "I want to have ti to see this city."
We stepped out onto a bustling street, where rchants were already making a racket and carts with those very ill-fated kegs of beer clinked.
"Let's go to the local bazaar," I suggested, not letting go of her hand. "There will probably be sothing interesting there."
"Let's do it," she agreed easily.
We walked, holding hands. I genuinely tried to do sothing nice for her, to behave sowhat correctly, but so far it was coming out frankly awkward. My head was empty, romantic topics for conversation were nowhere to be found, so I blurted out the most banal thing I could think of:
"Listen, Alastia... what's your favorite color?"
She squeezed my fingers slightly.
"There are too many colors in the world to choose just one," she answered.
And then, overtaking
in a couple of quick steps, she turned around and leaned down slightly, looking right into my face.
"You're sowhat... cute today, Zenhald," she said with a sly smile, and then simply reached out and placed her palm on the top of my head, affectionately ruffling my hair.
From the surprise, I nearly tripped over my own feet. Sothing treacherously skipped a beat in my chest. I hastily swatted her hand away and took a sharp step back. My wounded ego, which she had trampled just yesterday with her joke about my height and masculinity, demanded an imdiate, radical rematch.
Snap. Crunch.
A loud, wet sound of breaking bones and stretching tendons echoed through my body. A couple of random passersby shied away in horror, but I didn't care. I began to intentionally fracture my own skeleton, forcing the bones to rapidly stretch in length. Following that, I had to quickly build muscle mass so as not to look like a plucked chicken on thin legs.
A second of horrifying anatomical transformation—and done. The fabric of my suit stretched, but held. Now I towered over her by a good half-head. Broad in the shoulders, tall, and absolutely definitely no longer resembling a "pretty boy."
"Ha! So how do you like this?" I crossed my arms over my chest, now looking down at her.
Alastia's eyes noticeably widened. She swept her gaze over my new, imposing figure, froze for a second, and quietly exhaled:
"You never cease to amaze."
Then I took a half-step forward. I raised my now-massive hand and, trying to control my monstrous strength as much as possible, carefully lowered my palm onto the top of her head. I softly, almost weightlessly, stroked her blonde locks.
Her hair turned out to be incredibly silky. For hands that were used to snapping people's necks and grinding cities to dust, it was a wildly unfamiliar sensation—touching soone with such gentleness.
I noticed how a light, but perfectly obvious blush appeared on her always-pale cheeks. The Supre Archmage, the terror of all sorcerers and politicians of the north, stood in the middle of a noisy street in Lant, flustered by a simple, awkward touch. And it was absolutely worth every broken bone.
I pulled my hand back and smiled warmly.
"Let's go. The road awaits."
"Yeah..." was all she could answer quietly, obediently stepping after .
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