About me. C:
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Sometimes he wondered if she knew he was there.
He never was sure about her name -- too shy to ask around, not brave enough to ask her for it -- and it seemed arrogant to assume that she would notice him enough to find out his name, but he wondered all the same. Because, he figured, in the privacy of his own head, there was no one to really berate him for feeling so self important.
Anyway.
The point was, she was there every day, by the same pool. He would say 'she was there, regardless of rain or shine', but there hadn't been a day of rain since he had first stumbled upon her. Insert cliche about how she was her own little sun here, etc.
But ...
No matter how much he watched her, sitting by that pool, braiding her hair, he could never pluck up the courage to walk over to her. She dressed so simply, so elegantly, without the same concern for emphasizing her curves that the other elves insisted on displaying. Not that they weren't attractive -- of course they were -- but it was her calmly smiling, vague disinterest in playing the game that had his attention.
Of course it was. It would be inane to think it was anything else. And, maybe, if he kept up that mantra, he would eventually believe it.
Today was no different. Perched in a tree, far enough away that his cramped movements wouldn't alarm the elven girl, he sat, and waited for her to arrive.
The day passed like this. By midday, he was getting nervous, checking the position of the sun constantly, wondering if something was wrong. By late afternoon, he was getting anxious. By dusk, he started to panic.
Which was, in and of itself, inane. The thought that something had happened to the mysterious girl wouldn't leave him though and, as night fell, he swung off the branch and shimmied down the trunk, hissing as muscles that hadn't been used all day twisted and grinded into place. He landed on the forest floor with less grace than he would have liked, running both hands through his hair, already trying to plan how he was going to ask about the girl without looking like a total --
-- stalker.
"Hello," she said softly, tilting her head and smiling. Both hands stretched out, then, offering him a slightly wilted daisy chain. "I wondered when you were going to come down. I've been waiting all day to talk to you ..."
-----
Sometimes he wondered if she knew he was there.
He never was sure about her name -- too shy to ask around, not brave enough to ask her for it -- and it seemed arrogant to assume that she would notice him enough to find out his name, but he wondered all the same. Because, he figured, in the privacy of his own head, there was no one to really berate him for feeling so self important.
Anyway.
The point was, she was there every day, by the same pool. He would say 'she was there, regardless of rain or shine', but there hadn't been a day of rain since he had first stumbled upon her. Insert cliche about how she was her own little sun here, etc.
But ...
No matter how much he watched her, sitting by that pool, braiding her hair, he could never pluck up the courage to walk over to her. She dressed so simply, so elegantly, without the same concern for emphasizing her curves that the other elves insisted on displaying. Not that they weren't attractive -- of course they were -- but it was her calmly smiling, vague disinterest in playing the game that had his attention.
Of course it was. It would be inane to think it was anything else. And, maybe, if he kept up that mantra, he would eventually believe it.
Today was no different. Perched in a tree, far enough away that his cramped movements wouldn't alarm the elven girl, he sat, and waited for her to arrive.
The day passed like this. By midday, he was getting nervous, checking the position of the sun constantly, wondering if something was wrong. By late afternoon, he was getting anxious. By dusk, he started to panic.
Which was, in and of itself, inane. The thought that something had happened to the mysterious girl wouldn't leave him though and, as night fell, he swung off the branch and shimmied down the trunk, hissing as muscles that hadn't been used all day twisted and grinded into place. He landed on the forest floor with less grace than he would have liked, running both hands through his hair, already trying to plan how he was going to ask about the girl without looking like a total --
-- stalker.
"Hello," she said softly, tilting her head and smiling. Both hands stretched out, then, offering him a slightly wilted daisy chain. "I wondered when you were going to come down. I've been waiting all day to talk to you ..."
