Chapter 235: Serie is Still Asleep
He gave the dessert a fair, if somewhat clinical, review. But it was enough to make her heart soar.
After their meal, she looked out at the sun and a new and a brilliant idea came to her.
"Teacher," she said, leaning in a little closer, "the weather is so nice today. Shall we go for a walk? I hear the market here is very famous." She did not mention Serie, or the other two. This was to be a date for just the two of them.
He looked out the window. The sun was shining. It was indeed a fine day. He had just dealt with the monster tide, and had refilled the city's barrier. He had nothing better to do. To take his dear apprentice for a walk... it would be a good way to bond. "Alright," he said with a nod.
She could barely contain her joy. Hurry, she thought. Before the others wake up. "Then let's go now," she said.
And so, they left.
She walked a little closer to him than usual, so close that their sleeves would occasionally brush against each other. And with every touch, her own heart would skip a beat. But it was not enough.
The city, after the crisis, was now filled with a new and a vibrant energy.
"Teacher, look," she said, and pointed to a shop. "They're selling quills made from the tail feathers of a northern snow eagle. The quality looks very good." And then, "Oh, the ore at this stall is of a low purity. Too many impurities." And then, "What are those strange things in that shop? That spoon... is it stirring by itself? Is it a magical item?"
She was full of a new and a vibrant curiosity, a curiosity that was fueled by the presence of the one she so admired. She was no longer just his apprentice but a young girl, sharing her own, small and a simple, discoveries with the one she loved.
He, for his part, was also enjoying himself. A thousand years, and human magic had grown so... diverse. The self-stirring spoon... it was a clever little trick, a simple and an elegant application of a magical drive. But nothing more. And the other items... their own magical structures were crude, but the ideas... they were a good.
Seeing that he was in a good mood, she grew a little bolder.
At a stall selling scented sachets and essential oils, she stopped and picked up a red sachet. She took a deep sniff, and then held it out to him. "Teacher, doesn't this smell... familiar?"
He leaned in, a little surprised, and took a sniff himself. "Yes... a flower for calming the nerves."
"That's right! It's the scent of the Serenity Flower. It's very good for when you're tired from your own research."
She held it out to him, and her own fingers brushed against his own, a warm and a gentle touch.
"Alright, then. I won't be polite," he said with a nod, and took it from her. And with a new and a triumphant smile, she immediately paid for it, a quick and a decisive gesture, as if she was afraid he might change his mind. The child has grown up, he thought with a new and a strange feeling of a paternal pride. She's learned how to show her own appreciation.
And then, at a stall selling a strange, ice-blue drink, she bought two and handed one to him. "Try this, teacher. The stall-keeper said it's made from a 'Frost Condensation Grass'. It's very unique."
He took a sip. It was very cold, with a faint, sweet taste. It had been a long time since he had had anything so cold. "It's not bad," he said. "It just needs a little... fizz."
"'Fizz'?" she asked, a look of a pure and an unadulterated confusion on her own face.
"Never mind," he said with a smile. It tasted a bit like a flat Pepsi. "It's good," he said again, and took another sip. And she, her own eyes now a bright and a shining thing, a thing that was a pure and an unadulterated hope, she waited for his own, and now most-important, opinion. "It's good."
And so they went on, and she, with a new and a terrible ingenuity, she created a thousand small and a simple moments, a thousand small and a simple interactions, a thousand small and a simple looks of a pure and an unadulterated adoration, all of it hidden under the guise of a student's own, simple and a pure, concern for her own, dear teacher.
He, for his part, he just thought she was being a little... enthusiastic. A reaction to the battle, to her own, near-death experience, a way to show her own gratitude. Human emotions... they were so much more... demonstrative than those of an elf.
They came to a quiet and a peaceful part of the city, a place of a flower shops, and the air was now filled with a new and a different kind of a sweet and a fragrant scent.
Her own steps slowed, and her own eyes were now a wide and a wonder-filled thing. "Teacher, look! Moonlight Bellflowers. They say they only bloom at night, and that their petals change color." She pointed to a cluster of a pale blue flowers, their petals now only half-open. And then, to another. "And this one! The 'Honey-Word Flower'. Its fragrance... it is said that it can make people happy."
"It seems to be working," he said with a smile, looking at her own, now bright and a happy, face.
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