† Kohryn †
Mikhail was the first to arrive, a small bag in hand.
She looked at him briefly before quickly dragging her eyes away.
Kohryn wanted to see him mixed with the landscape. Wanted to see how tricks of light seemed to push shadows away from him. The slightly bitter tinge to the pallet made his white gold beauty a little ashen and the peoples gazes wistful. Eyes turned in his direction so opposite to how she also drew them. Women and men alike cast chaste glances, blushes hidden behind hands and silk. Some looked on with a sad kind of jealousy, while others nodded heads in polite greetings. He was woefully opulent in how he absorbed attention and commanded everything around him.
And, irritatingly, she was not free from his draw. The more time he spent around her the more she craved to see him.
A world meant for the collective suddenly became all about him when he occupied the space. She found it a little disruptive. Maybe even a little selfish.
Most definitely suspicious to the woman who had spent a lifetime simply observing. Suspicious because he was aware. Mikhail knew the effect he had on people. He used his looks and extroverted charisma well, moving eyes and words and feelings in ways he thought best. Kohryn watched him do it with customers at the bakery, Sira, and, to some extent, Etan and her father. He had probably been a bratty little kid just like the screaming one from earlier. Insistent on always having his way and becoming a little wicked and clever in order to get what he wanted no matter what.
"Did you enjoy the rest of the market?" She asked as he neared.
He nodded, holding up a bag. "Yeah, I found a few things I liked too." He plopped down next to her easily and a little too close.
Kohryn thought he was always just a little too close.
She had watched lovers, families and friends around her touch and hug, and bask in the warmth of closeness. She hadn't ever really thought of it as something accessible to herself, just what others liked to do. For the first time someone was willingly entering her bubble. She didn't know what to say or how to be in the unfamiliar situation she found herself in.
She scooted just a little off to the side and turned to face him as he began to pull items from the bag.First he held up an ornate bottle of amber liquid. It was cut in a drastic design resembling a shard of a crystal. "There was a perfumer and a glassblower–a married couple- that made these wonderful scents and beautiful bottles. I really liked this one." He took off a golden cap and proceeded to spritz a little along his neck and wrists, then leaned toward Kohryn. "Does it smell good on me?"
Kohryn found herself even closer to the man. His upper body held out, soft pale hair pulled over an offering of his neck to sniff in a very intimate manner.
With a small breath she was filled with wafts of dusty dried flowers, rain that mixed with earthier notes of tilled soil and held the aftertaste of peppercorns. Underneath was his smell. It was both effeminate and masculine, a lulling scent that reminded her of leaky window seals and blissful fatigue.
Her eyes met Mikhail's, as he hovered near, watching, eagerly awaiting her words. Kohryn stiffly nodded. "It smells very nice."
His brow pinched up, as if he were displeased with her reply. Then he surprised her by asking, "Kohryn, are you alright? You look-" his head tilted, "-kind of sad."
For the first time in her life her heart skipped a beat. Had he seen her with the dying dog?
No, that was impossible. He was in the village. How…
Her mind stuttered with her heart and she felt her mouth fall just slightly open. When was the last time someone had known she was sad.
His hand came up and tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. "Are you sad we left you here?"
She shook her head, silent, dumbfounded as he drew his hand away. "I'm better now."
"Are you sure?" His pretty green eyes bore into her.
"Yeah." She attempted a smile, muscles she'd never used and her lips pulled up just barely at the sides.
He gave her a dazzling one in return and she swore beneath his tanned skin he blushed.
He continued on, showing her each item he had bought from the vendors of the village. First was a small figurine carved and shiny green, crafted by a blind man. He informed her it was said to bring friendship and prosperous relationships. The stone was followed by a fountain pen, skillfully made of an iridescent black ivory, purchased from a cranky woman with missing teeth. Next was a small well of pearly ink from a separate vendor, who mixed and muddled inks and paints in a wide array of colors.
He showed Kohryn each of his collected items with a little tale of purchase before pulling a final object from the bag. "There was also a fortune teller who vended from a colorful wagon. She sold charms and oracle cards." Sitting in his hands was a stack of cards held together with a red ribbon. Mikhail deftly released the bow better exposing the backs of cards with wood-block printed spade leaves and chirping birds.
Kohryn took note of his hand, which, with a smooth push of his thumb, fanned out cards. His fingers were long on large graceful hands. Hands made for instruments yet smooth and unblemished, having never known the bite of strings or the calluses of labor.
"Pick one." He encouraged, voice low and filled with a smooth timbre.
"You know how to read cards?" Kohryn obliged him by running a nail along the corners of the splayed cards before stopping half way to pull a single card from the center of the deck. She held the card out to him face down.
"I know a little." He wore a coy smile and his fingers lightly brushed hers as he took the card.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
† Mikhail †
When Mikhail returned he'd found Kohryn seated away from the exposure of the bench. She was sitting on the ground, drawn into the shadow of a boulder, back rigid and knees folded to her chest. The ominous woman with her raptor eyes peered from the shadows, looking like a predator, stoic and already satiated. Not quite threatening but an unspoken promise that she could be.
He watched as she briefly acknowledged him before her eyes strayed away, still viewing him but not focused on he alone. Mikhail was used to how people stared at him. Used to how he paired their stares with the play of his being and became the focus of their attention. Trilling words, swaying his arms, rolling his shoulders, lifting his face, lengthening his strides to be graceful and languid.
Yet as he approached her he became keenly aware that he never captured Kohryns attention like that. She never stared, only looked. It was a look that remained subjective. Where others became enraptured, she did not. She looked at him, viewing his subtle behavior, like she was aware of his act.
Like she thought he was a liar.
She saw past the facade, tossing aside his efforts, never giving him quite the attention he performed for. Just large eyed unblinking looks that saw through him. And it should have upset him, should have threatened him, and yet, he felt at ease. The relief of a vulture who'd found company with a fox.
He was a liar. He was lying about so much and she was a skeptic, suspiciously looking upon him. Watching his act. And it felt good to be recognized.
And then he'd caught something in her suspicious gaze he had not entirely expected from the stoic woman; sadness. And when he went to investigate she seemed shocked he had recognized her subtle emotions. She'd even given him the smallest smile.
It set him on fire. Filled him with an unexplainable joy when she'd told him that she was 'better now'. Better now that he had returned to her side. Or at least he would unashamedly assume.
And he continued on to show her all the items he had bought. It was all things he thought she might take the extra time to view.
He found himself doing that more and more these days.
Catering to desires that he could only guess she may have. Bringing her meats and desserts he'd noticed she'd eat with a little more vigor, gifting her puzzles his demon enjoyed in hopes she'd like them too, and now pushing forth trinkets from a world outside the confines of the mountain.
Indeed, he had become the dancing spring vulture attempting to befriend an impassive fox.
And then, not for her but for him, he pulled out the oracle cards and fanned them out for her choosing.
Mikhail intentionally curled his finger to brush her own as he took the card from her hands. He enjoyed the way her eyes would cloud when he was a little too close, when he became a little too intimate. It was a cloud of incalculability, a hazy emotion he often felt in her presence, and it thrilled him to draw the same feeling from her.
He knew what the card would tell when he flipped it over. He'd gotten them to confirm what the demon was already so certain of.
He let a silent breath flee his lungs as he flipped it over. He knew but there was still a moment of confirming shock. A flutter of the lungs and drop of the heart, like terminality being reminded of eminent demise.
In solid maroon, a cracked design from a hand-carved stamp revealed a eight spoked wheel.
His shock was momentary. A single second that went unnoticed before he pulled his lips into a small smile and turned the card so Kohryn could see its simple design. It did not bloom with the power of a seer because Mikhail was not a seer, but it was solid confirmation. It was fate so strong that it did not need magic to be devised.
"The Wheel of Fate."