He stared intently at the lines in the green wooden door, shoulders back, lips tight, knuckles inches away from its surface. A cricket chirped impatiently, as if to say, Get it over with, asshole! Tsk, well-well, he was trying, dammit! Unlike some leg-rubbing, lazy-ass bugs that lay in the grass all day (and did not, apparently, understand the difference between musical composition and flat-out noise making), Practical Palom was standing in front of the door, readying himself to ask a lovely, young lady to spend some time with him. So, maybe it was his first time! Maybe he needed to know what he wanted to say first. He just wanted to be sure he had the exact-right words, so that when he opened his mouth, it wasn't some kind of spontaneous disaster.

Rumbling. Pattering footsteps. Before he could properly posture himself, the door swiftly opened. Palom's hand asked if it could fall to his side, but a moment too late-the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, staring at the underside of her sunroof, a sharp pain lancing through his head from front to back. Leonora glanced around anxiously, fingers laced together, searching for the source of the collision. By some miracle, or the sheer force of her will, she stood perfectly unharmed, excepting the red mark on her forehead that seemed not to bother her very much.

"What the Hell, Leonora!" Palom rubbed his own forehead, which had begun to remind him that it, too, was well versed in the art of whining. Leonora extended a hand to him quickly, which he gladly took. When she said nothing, he dusted himself off, asking, "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"To, ah, meet someone." Leonora cleared her throat. Blush dusted her cheeks, but she managed to look him politely in the eye. "Have you need of something, Lord Elder?"

His heart sank.

"Palom," he corrected dryly.

"Palom," she echoed, and equally as dry, to his surprise. "Have you need of something, Palom?"

He blinked, not quite sure what to do with himself. She was usually so self-conscious about the tiniest mistakes. She was always sweet, always careful about the feelings of the people around her. He had only wanted to be called by his name, after all; what was so annoying about that? And hadn't she been the one to knock him on his ass? But she was usually so sweet… and her blush had brightened, painting a pair of roses on her cheeks. He wasn't sure what to make of it, exactly, and wondered if she was normally like this.

"Oh, well, I mean," he began. "I was just-"

Leonora glanced west. He knew she had a thing for sunsets, but he did not know her to be so distracted. Still, he continued, though it was in a mumble.

"-just, uh, wondering if you were going to study at the library."

She stored a piece of folded parchment thoughtfully in her sleeve. Come to think of it, he had always liked the way white mage robes made her look very soft and serene. He did not know she was capable of looking even more nurturing than she (normally) looked until just that moment. The blues in her eyes looked almost green, accented with the red lining of the hood.

"Well, I do need to return some materials that I've already paged through. No use in prolonging another visit." Her eyes met his. His heart skipped a beat. "Yes, I think I shall go, once I have attended some other business at the pier. Why?"

"No reason," he said quickly. "Just, was passing by. Was wondering. That's all."

His eyes darted away from hers, landing first on her chest, then away to a safer spot on her shoulder. He wasn't sure what he should say next. He had wanted to make a good impression on her (not that they had known each other for years or anything) and he had wanted to leave this conversation with the lady on his arm. Instead, the situation had soured, and she was kind of a grouch (albeit a really fucking beautiful one). And what had he really said, honestly, that created this weird mood? Wasn't she the one unwilling to remember that he specifically did not take well to being addressed as a 'Lord'?

Before he could part his lips to express this very significant and concerning grievance, something had happened to sap him of all his thinking power, and all his will to criticize.

She kissed him.

It was nothing like a forehead kiss. Those were safe, completely unambiguous, especially when they were brief. It had happened so quickly, he did not immediately process exactly what had happened. And did her lips linger on his cheek? A little more than they should have! (Not that he was complaining.) He blushed darkly, looking to her, but she did not seem to notice. She simply flashed him a warm smile.

"I'll be at the library soon," she said. "I won't be long. I'd hate to keep a friend waiting."

He nodded soberly and watched her leave in silence. Her steps were quick and eager, as if she was late to a prior engagement with an acquaintance. Maybe that's what she had really meant when she said 'friend.' Not that she wasn't his friend-that was what they agreed to be, wasn't it? Friends, who happened to admire one another. Lovely, childhood friends.

But he wasn't sure he could wait for her to come to the library. Whoever or whatever she was off to see, it was clearly important enough to distract her from the fact of his visit. She looked as though she was going to visit the pier… at sunset?

Was she going off to watch the sunset with someone? Was she-was she late for a date?

Palom had heard accounts of Leonora's dating life, here and there, from their mutual colleagues at the Hall of Prayers. It was no secret that certain individuals, particularly self-important ones who felt themselves to be the authorities on living life by virtue of their age, seemed to think that Lord Elder and Lady Sage should be together. Never mind that if they did cultivate a romance, they would be shamed for it. A mentor and his apprentice? The older scholars of Mysidia, who were effectively the cultural gatekeepers of the town, had small, funny minds like that, rife with double standards. They could ask grand, philosophical questions about the universe and still forget that the perspectives of myth and legend, too, could be questioned.

And they were gossipy. Well-intended, but gossipy. Mysidians prided the relationships they fostered with one another, after all; they kept tabs on all those who lived within the walls of the town. This meant the lovers their Lady Sage took did not escape their notice. She had always been a little strange, of course; she had refused to join another family after her parents died, and she had often kept to herself, seldom speaking up if at all. She spoke to flowers as if they heard what she told them, and as if they had the ability to repeat her secrets back to them… which was weird and a little concerning, if she did not seem so polite and well-adjusted in all other aspects of her life.

It probably had something to do with her loneliness that she courted so many lovers. One would not guess by the dainty manner of her gait that Ari Sterling's daughter was so brazen. Sure, it was a subtle kind of brazen, where she did not outright tell people who she was seeing, or made it out to be the center of the town's attention… but Mysidia noticed. Mysidia watched as she invited young lovers to her door. Okay, so maybe it had only been a handful over the course of two years, but the woman had spent eight years in Troia! And didn't they have brazen sex clubs in Troia?

So maybe Leonora had placed her heart somewhere else. Maybe she just couldn't wait for Palom to get over himself and, er-ahh-well!

Suddenly, he felt very small and alone, standing silently on the porch. She hadn't even locked the door when she left. She must have been very anxious to see whoever this was, or do whatever it was she wanted to do. Maybe it was a tryst. Hell if he knew.

But… he could find out. She didn't go very far. Mysidia was a small place.

West… West, wasn't it?

His feet began in that direction. He figured he could stand to take a walk. So if it happened to take him west, what did that matter? He wasn't going to go disturb her. He was just wondering if she had gone to the pier to see the sunset with someone. If that was the case, then it was entirely possible for him to ask her out there. They could talk about old Fire incantations that were inspired by sunsets. He knew at least six, and three of them rhymed on every other line.

He wasn't so sure it was a good idea, but he did not think it was particularly bad, either. Nosiness wasn't an attractive quality, okay, but she wouldn't know about it. He did not entitle himself to her time, anyway. He just wanted to know how she was spending her time away from him. He hadn't seen her in awhile. It couldn't be a crime to go see how she preferred to spend her time or figure out what she liked to do. All he wanted to know was where she put her energy in her life.

Palom ground his teeth. Seagulls cackled above him, cutting across the skies. Turn around, asshole! they squawked. He ignored them, crossing his arms, walking a little faster. He didn't know what they were talking about. He was minding his own gods damned business. He just needed a little exercise.

This, Palom, whispered the little voice in his head, is a particularly bad idea.

But he made it to the pier. The red skies faded in bits and pieces into lavender and lavender into navy blue. Stars began to peek out from behind the veil of sunlight, like fireflies in the dark.

She had just gotten there, too. He remembered that she walked slower than him, even when she meant to walk briskly. She was not out of breath and she had not seen him. She approached the man standing at the end of the pier who looked out at the swishing seas. Her footsteps called his attention. He turned to her.

Mu'in Morcos. It was Mu'in fucking Morcos. Palom recognized him immediately, from that bright, shark-tooth smile to that long, thick, jet-black hair. His wiry silhouette left no room for doubt, especially not the way his deep blue mage robes draped over it. He approached Leonora, taking her hands in his.

"You made it," he said.

Palom ducked behind a barrel of fish. The stench brought hot, salty tears to his eyes. He pinched his nose shut and tightened the lock on his lips.

"I don't understand…" Leonora began, her head tilted. Her curly-wispy hair danced delicately in the evening breeze. "You said it was urgent, but here you are, beaming at me as though I brought you a cake."

"I wasn't sure you would take me seriously if I said I wanted to talk about us."

Leonora burst into a loud, rolling laughter and shook her head. (Palom did not see what was so funny.) "You didn't have to make a scene about that! I should think friends are able to speak frankly about their concerns, don't you?"

"Leonora…" Mu'in sank to his knees and looked up at her. The sunset lights caught the color of amber in his bright, long-lashed eyes. (Bleck.) "Leonora, I'm crazy about you."

"Wh-What?" She turned a ruddy shade of red, pulling a hand away from him to rub her cheek vigorously. "What are you saying, Mu'in!"

"That I think you're a brilliant woman. That I want to get to know you beyond pleasantries at the Hall of Prayers. That we've both seen our homes torn apart and comforted each other in the years after. That we've shared a childhood together, and that I'd like to know the woman you've become."

Leonora stepped back, lacing her fingers together at her chest. "I… I…"

"Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you, Lady Sage?"

Of course she will, Palom thought bitterly to himself. He rose to his feet and turned away, starting off quickly. Walking feet became jogging feet and a throbbing heart. He didn't need to hear the rest.