#rafal

Rafal, for one reason or another, had been in search of the Brodian king. A single look led him to believe his target was in sight. And that same look led him astray.

He approached what he thought to be a familiar young man. His tall stature, fluffed red hair, and confident gait; all these were similar to the acquaintance he knew albeit not precisely the same. Yet, under the simultaneous darkness and brightness of the unlit room? The colorful projection lights? Even a mighty Fell Dragon could be disoriented into thinking they were.

"Diamant. Have you a moment? I had intended to ask if I could—oh." Rafal blinked, startled to the point of constricted catlike pupils, and shook his head. "Never the mind, forget that I spoke. I mistook you for another."

However. Crimson gaze lowered with intrigue at the sight of the student's flowers. A fateful thing of irony, they were precisely the same as Diamant's. Which meant—

". . .Those flowers. May I relieve you of them? It need not be many." Had the one known as Rafal ever been so fond of flowers? Mysteriously, in this moment he was.

Diamant? 

Feeling vaguely like he’s been hit over the head, Sylvain thinks he’s helpless to do anything but stare back at eyes too startlingly red to be real. It’s the dark, the thought is a hopeful one, blinking to correct the freeze spell that’s been cast over him in the moment. 

Then, he registers the question. A transaction - maybe the politest request he’s had all day!