That orb…

Aynur’s “Lord Alkieh” always made him supremely uncomfortable. It was, as far as he was concerned, the most unsettling version of a pet rock one could have; a pet rock that told you what to do and how to feel. Sometimes, he had the odd feeling that it was- well, that perhaps it was staring at him. As if it were a giant eye, and it found his very presence ugly and distasteful. It wasn’t as if it was an unheard of reaction to him, but he didn’t like that it was coming from a rock of all things…

“Mmm? What?” he asked, still a bit dazed by the appearance of Aynur’s demon-rock-from-Soervia’s-most-hellish-collection, even after she had put it away.

A silver laugh fell from Aynur’s lips. “My blindfold, please,” she repeated patiently, holding out her hand. She tilted her head to the side. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yes, I assure you.” Careful not to move and disturb Aynur’s half-complete work on his hair, Varin produced the blindfold from the folds of his robe and handed it over. His mouth twisted into an uncertain frown as she tied it back over her face, shrouding her electric-blue eyes from sight. “If I may ask, what do you want it for?”

“I saw something unpleasant, it happens sometimes. I do not wish for it to sour an otherwise perfect day.”

Varin almost nodded, before he remembered that she could no longer see. “I understand,” he said softly.

All the same, he couldn’t help but glance aside into the thin crowd. His pupils narrowed with a fear he didn’t want to speak aloud, and his heart quickened a few paces. Unpleasant? If Aynur found something “unpleasant”, he believed her. Yet nothing seemed to be out of place. Nothing that he could see, anyway. A few other people loitered around the street, eating festival food and chatting merrily. The games were still roaring in success. There was a small group of cloaked figures that seemed a bit aloof from the festivities.

He wanted to worry; he felt as if he very much needed to be worried, but he was finding it difficult to further summon the emotion. Aynur’s soft hands were running through his hair again, blindly wrapping up the braid. The gentle, rhythmic touch was overriding his sharp survival instincts.

Or perhaps he was overreacting. Varin’s nose twitched, and he closed his eyes, allowing the moment to seep under his scales.

“Chirrup!” came self-righteously from overhead.

Varin scoffed and glanced up at Arie, who struggled with a beakful of bright orange flowers. “Welcome back,” he greeted stuffily as the bird swooped down into Aynur’s lap. She spat out the flowers and twittered something sarcastic his way. “I love you too,” he muttered back with another scoff.