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Ethan had not even been in Cadomyr a full month and he had already fallen in love with it. The harsh sun against his skin felt of freedom. Everything he needed was here: an audience. He was overjoyed at how often people asked him to play tunes for him when they saw that he carried his flute around town. The tavern was no concert hall but it fulfilled his need. Realizing his own happiness here, he tried to steel himself against anything that would take it away. He tried to ignore any feelings he felt when he met Ron.

Passion overrules all else, however.

From their first meeting, Ethan noticed his own lingering looks on Dwyn’s face. He knew he would regret this, but he indulged himself. He stopped caring, if only in those moments, whether others could notice his feelings. He stopped caring about the impossibility of it all. So when caught in a moment, he would play his flute and dream.

And how could anyone not notice Dwyn?

Despite the things Dwyn said about a rural upbringing, Ethan could tell there was something very cultured about the man. He was everything one might imagine a knight to be, except younger. It came as no surprise to Ethan then that Dwyn started to be surrounded by others. Their names barely registered in Ethan’s mind as they were introduced. He just sat and watched as they all interacted with Dwyn, much as he likely had. Long stares, soft laughter at his remarks, and other attempts to hold his attention.

Did he not notice?

He did not, Ethan decided. It was safe then, to continue. Nothing ill could come from Dwyn if he never found out.

It was always intriguing to Zaiah, the games of affection and love that people play. She'd always watched with amused disinterest as others had carelessly destroyed their lives with the idea that they'd found the one they were supposed to live their life with.

One could say that Zaiah had little to no interest in companionship of any kind. Since a young age, the elfess had kept a good distance between herself and others, her reasoning based off of misguided ideals of interactions between people.

Meeting the young man, Dwyn Thunnigan, in Cadomyr, was uneventful at first. He'd paid her no mind, disregarding her sly and seductive smiles in favor of a boring discussion of armour and swords. He was devastatingly handsome, sweetly innocent, and overbearingly kind.

Zaiah couldn't resist.

So many possibilities existed now that Zaiah had found Dwyn, especially after she had purposely fed him a few white lies about her past. Once was said and done, she had a new "friend."

The word tasted wrong on her tongue, despite its false use.

He was a boy. An oblivious little boy, fit to be shaped and modeled to her liking.