So...my hand slipped. A lot. (I have no self control!) Uri and Zethys belong to the talented @rooibosfie go check them out!
They smiled at each other! That was progress, but didn’t do anything but make her friend act on his pining heart. Beatrice rolled her eyes in annoyance, as she noticed yet another flustered encounter with the fiery red haired man in the market.
Eamon, for a few weeks had noticed someone every afternoon, who made him get butterflies in his stomach. While Beatrice would simply tell her scholarly friend to digest the damned bugs and go talk to the person like an adult, she knew he was a much more gentle soul and would most likely feel bad for hurting the metaphorical insects.
Nudging him in the shoulder, the mage motioned her head in the direction of the good looking crush.
“Go talk to them!” She grumbled. Eamon shook his head so hard, Beatrice was surprised he didn’t have whiplash. “N-no. I can’t!”
Frowning, she lifted her scarred eyebrow defiantly. Weeks of this charade, had tested her nonexistent patience for social protocol and today she felt like putting an end to it. “Why, pray tell, can you not talk to a stranger?”
Eamon gaped his mouth open like a fish out of water for a few moments, before muttering incoherently into the page’s of his book. The scholar only became flustered around anyone he found extremely attractive, but he never knew what to say.
Almost as though she was the one with mind powers, Beatrice piped up again. “You could say anything at all, right now your nerves are talking for ya! Show em who’s boss by talking to that hunk, yeah?” Although Beatrice prodded in encouragement, Eamon tapped his fingers in his book nervously.
“But what do I do, in theory, if I do talk to that man? What if he actually wants to talk?” Beatrice grinned with a waggle of her brows. “Then you flirt a little, get to know em!” The scholar looked at her as though she’d lost her wits. “This is me we are discussing here. I could tell you every fact about the human skull, in depth, but not even something basic on flirting!” Eamon whined, running a freckled hand through his ash brown curls.
“Oh come on! Flirting is basically arithmetic, pff. Why are you making me give you advice?! I was a memoryless mercenary my whole life, and I’ve got more confidence around potential mates than you. Just go try talking to them!”
Eamon’s cheeks turned a shade of scarlet at the word “mates”, that probably matched his crush’s hair.
“C-can’t!” He whimpered, hiding his face in his book again. Beatrice turned to watch the red-haired stranger disappearing in the midday crowds.
“Suit yourself then. You might miss your chance to speak to em, ya know?” She simply wanted to see her friend happy with someone else besides a good book for once.
“What? Why would you say that?” Eamon pouted, his hazel eyes zooming to meet the disapproving copper pools drilling into him.
“He’s not from around here, judging by his Aurean looking uniform. Probably a traveler on business. Today could be the last time you see him in the crowd, why not say a simple hello?” She slumped her shoulders in annoyance, as he huffed out a deep breath stubbornly.
“Thank you for the pep talk, Trice. I know you mean well...but if he’s a traveler I don’t want to bother them with-with minute infatuations.”
Her eye twitched, patience completely gone. At the sound of her exiting the tent they’d stopped under for shade, Eamon’s eyes widened. “Oh no, no, no, no! TRICE, you get back here right now! Trice? Trice!”
His pleas fell on deaf ears, as he dashed after Beatrice. Chasing an ex mercenary wasn’t an easy thing to do, even for a strategic mind like Eamon’s. Spotting her, not too hard. Keeping up with her stamina, however, was another story. Beatrice was excellent at climbing. So his eyes turned upwards and like he suspected there she was. Eamon spotted her half copper hair billowing behind her, as she ran on a rooftop ahead, jumping almost effortlessly from one structure to the next. There was no doubt she was searching for the man they’d been discussing.
“Oh, this can’t end well!”
Eamon grumbled, pushing through the crowd as politely as he could. When he caught up to where he’d seen her jump down from a street pole, he was winded. Eamon felt as though he might faint , however, when he saw Beatrice striking up a conversation with the two travelers. The shorter of the two had white hair with matching eyes, appearing either slightly guarded with their new company, or annoyed at the brightness of the sun in his eyes. He tugged at the lapels on his navy blue suit jacket, as the mage introduced herself.
Then there was his crush. Standing tall, this man had a commanding authority to them. Gold jewelry embellished the handsome features of his tan face. The fire curls at the top of his head demanded attention, much like the golden orbs peering down at all the world below them, although Beatrice stood almost equal in height to him surprisingly. She was able to look both men straight in the eyes, which Eamon would have to be standing on a small stool to do. This fellow, was by no means short up close. “Perks of being a tall woman, Trice!” The scholar thought absentmindedly with a tinge of jealously.
Gulping nervously, Eamon stepped towards them. The mage turned slightly, greeting him with a friendly grin. The coy wink she gave him, so their new company couldn’t see, wasn’t helping this Vesuvian’s internal screaming at all.
“Oh! This is my associate, Eamon! Eamon, this is Uri and Zethys.” She gestured to an individual as she was addressing them, before stepping back to let the scholar flounder.
“Uri. What a perfect name for a person so intriguing,”
Eamon thought to himself, until he realized he was starring like a deer in headlights at the two before himself. It took every ounce of control Eamon had not to bound away like a scared rabbit, but he planted his feet firmly on the stone path beneath his leather boots. This was it. He needed to say something. Sticking out his hand with a straightened posture, he astutely inclined his head.
“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
Uri shuffled on his feet momentarily, with a grin that matched Eamon’s own. Wait-was his crush blushing too? No, no that would be silly, Eamon theorized. Perhaps the two had been out in the sun too long, yeah that was plausible. Maybe it was just the reflection of Uri’s lively hair reflecting off his skin. Whatever it was, it was mesmerizing. The scholar blinked a couple of times before smiling wide. A smile that could make even angels fawn over him. Uri looked almost startled, but reached out and grabbed Eamon’s hand regardless.
The Aurean beamed, as his golden eyes almost disappeared in an equally tempting smile, making Eamon melt where he stood. That time, he knew it wasn’t the sun. Zethys nodded towards the scholar, but continued to say nothing, while his cloudy eyes squinted at the other member of their unexpected company.
Then came an uncomfortable pause. Silent, except for the bustling crowd around them. The smells of spices and freshly baked bread made for a good distraction, but it wasn’t enough to hide the lack of conversation happening. Beatrice let her face drop when Uri coughed, in an attempt to get the conversation going, after they had let go of each other’s hands. Eamon looked at Beatrice with a shy shrug of his shoulder, a furious blush crossing his freckled cheeks. Turns out, her friend wasn’t lying when he mentioned not being able to flirt. So, being blatant, the mage worked her magic into the “tender” moment.
“Eamon thinks you’re cute.”
Both Uri and Eamon looked as though she’d just struck them in the back of the head with a brick, as they sputtered unintelligibly at the same time. The mage watched Uri turn his head away to collect himself, an obvious tinge of color on his cheeks. She caught the ends of a muttered comment of his. Something along the lines of “I’m flattered!” perhaps.
Her eyes then raced to Eamon, who almost fell over after holding his breath too long in an attempt to not scream. The scholar’s comment was much more coherent, since he spoke right into her ear. “Trice, you are so dead!” Eamon threatened quietly, his voice wavering slightly.
Zethys slid his eyes up to Beatrice’s, lifting a brow in apparent confusion, as she bust into a spurt of obnoxious laughter. Threats never worked on the mage. Never.
“You two, are too precious!”
“Please stop talking!” Eamon groaned, as she smacked her hand on his back playfully. This embarrassment had him wanting to die, but also interested to see what Uri thought of this news.
The redhead let out a short laugh, giving a perfect grin as he looked at his not so secret admirer. “Care to join me for a bite to eat, Eamon? Rumor has it, that there is a stall around here that sells the best mangoes.”
Eamon’s eyes lit up at the sound of Uri’s invitation and the mention of his favorite fruit. “Mangoes? I know just where that stall is! I-I would be delighted to accompany you! Do you like mangoes, Uri?”
Uri matched his pace with the shorter man as Eamon started walking with a skip in his step, before responding resolutely. “Oh, I love mangoes!”
Eamon swooned, and Beatrice bit her lip fighting back a grin. “Oh, what have I done?” She thought to herself smugly.
Beatrice and Zethys stood as the two left together, the white haired man again turning his head to his new company. “What....exactly just happened?” The mage turned her head to the man and shrugged coolly. Apparently everyone was mistaking her for an all knowing gypsy today.Â
“I have absolutely no idea, but I like it.”
