“This feels pretty normal…”
Mira muttered beside me as we walked through the streets in front of us, the beauty of the place being quite breathtaking as the two of us kept walking through the streets, the people around being a mix of different species, with us in our disguise blending perfectly through it, the small chatters and everyday life filling our ears.
“It does.”
I replied as we kept walking hand in hand, our fingers intertwined with each other as we walked through this simple lifestyle.
“Sometimes it’s nice to see the peace we all are fighting for, telling us that our sacrifices at times are not lost.”
My words made Mira blink her eyes at me, my emotions a mix of happiness and bittersweet lingering attachment as she looked so, the emotions making Mira pause for a moment, looking at me with emotion-filled eyes. Her hold on me got stronger.
‘Good, keep her guilt trapped and filled until I pop the big info.’
Thinking so, I pulled her along with me, the place around us holding a small festival, a pretty basic one, one which would make us feel normal as I pulled Mira into one of the booths, a special smell being wafted from the place as I spoke to the cook.
“Two of them, please.”
“Okay, two super roasted groak tails, coming up for the beautiful couple!”
His voice made Mira smile, though her gaze focused on the food that wasn’t much, to say, open to her very noble tastes. Seeing this, I chuckled as I took the two roasted tails on a stick in my hands as I paid the cook, the man beaming at the earnings as I replied.
“Keep the change too.”
This was just going to make his day as we, hand in hand, now with a roasted tail in our other hand, walked. I smiled at Mira, who was scrutinising the dish on a stick in her hands, to which I spoke.
“It’s good to try new things at times, who knows, you might even like it.”
“Okay…”
Mira responded as she took a bite of it, her expression widening for a moment as the flavours exploded in her mouth, small cute crunchy sounds coming out of her mouth as she ate the tail, her expression turning to one of wonder as she replied.
“It’s good.”
“Glad to know.”
I responded as I ate my share of the tail. Mira laughed beside me, her lips curving into a smile as she wiped her hands on a small cloth napkin. The roasted groak tail, despite its strange name, had clearly caught her off guard with how good it was. I watched her, the corners of my mouth twitching up in amusement as she delicately picked at the food.
“See?” I said, a teasing lilt in my voice. “I told you it’d be good.”
She shot me a look — half playful, half indignant — before taking another bite, more confident now. “It’s… tolerable,” she replied, though the way her eyes lit up betrayed her words. “But let’s not make this a habit.”
I chuckled, reaching for her hand as we walked through the bustling festival streets. The air was thick with the scents of food, spices, and something sweet, perhaps caramelised sugar. The various stalls lining the paths were crowded with a mix of species, making it all the more fun to just move around and see the different things.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow. The sound of laughter and conversation melted into the background, and it was just Mira and me. Her hand felt warm in mine, our fingers still intertwined from earlier, and as we strolled further into the heart of the festival, there was a simplicity in it that Mira seemed to come to enjoy.
“Where to next?” she asked, glancing up at me.
I pretended to think, dragging her along gently with a light-hearted smirk. “Let’s just wander. See what catches our eye.”
Mira looked at me suspiciously, probably sensing there was more to it, but said nothing. We moved through the winding paths, passing vibrant tents selling trinkets and crafts from distant places. Each booth seemed to hold something unique.
We stopped in front of a small stall where an older vendor was selling colourful scarves. They shimmered under the lanterns, shifting colours with the slightest movement.
“Try this one,” I suggested, picking up a deep purple scarf with silver threads running through it. I held it up to her neck, wrapping it loosely around her shoulders.
Mira looked at herself in the reflection of a nearby mirror, the scarf highlighting her dark purple hair and soft features. She smiled, her fingers brushing against the fabric before turning her attention to me. “You have surprisingly good taste.”
“Surprising?” I teased, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know, I have excellent taste.”
She raised an eyebrow, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. Before she could retort, I waved over the vendor and handed over the money for the scarf. Mira blinked in surprise, about to protest, but I held up a hand.
“It looks good on you,” I said simply.
Her expression softened, and she didn’t argue further, her hand reaching up to touch the scarf once more as we walked on. The festival seemed to pull us deeper, the sounds and sights growing even more lively as the night wore on.
We stopped at another food stall — this one offering something resembling pastries, though they were filled with a spiced, savoury filling that had Mira raising an eyebrow again.
“More strange foods?” she asked, though she didn’t sound entirely unwilling to try them.
“Consider it an adventure,” I said with a grin, handing her one of the small pastries.
She took a tentative bite, her eyes widening slightly as she chewed. “This… isn’t bad,” she admitted, giving me a sidelong glance.
“See? You just have to trust me.”
We continued through the crowd, occasionally stopping to watch street performers. One group played strange instruments that emitted soft, melodic tones, while another showcased acrobats who easily leapt through the air while adding dangerous elements to it. Though everything looked normal in Mira’s eyes, one of the world’s most renowned mages, she still seemed to enjoy it all, her usual composed expression melting away as she allowed herself to enjoy the simple pleasures.
I tugged her hand again, leading her toward a small platform where a band was playing upbeat music, surrounded by people swaying and dancing. “Care for a dance?” I asked, offering my hand.
Mira hesitated, glancing at the dancers. “I’m not much of a dancer…”
“Neither am I,” I lied, though that didn’t stop me from pulling her into the circle.
At first, she was stiff, unsure of herself as we swayed to the music, but after a few moments, I felt her relax. Her body moved in rhythm with mine, our steps syncing naturally as we circled the small dance area. The lanterns above us cast a warm glow, and the music seemed to fill the space between us, drawing us closer together.
Her gaze met mine, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. There was something in her eyes — a quiet vulnerability, a softness I rarely saw. And maybe it was the atmosphere or the way the music wrapped around us.
“You know,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear, “I wish we could have more nights like this.”
Mira’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, she didn’t reply. Then, quietly, she murmured, “Me too.”
We continued to dance, lost in the moment. The music was fast-paced, yet there was an unspoken intimacy between us I could feel her heartbeat through the gentle pressure of her hand against mine, and as we spun and twirled, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
After a while, the music shifted, slowing down to a softer melody. I pulled her in closer, my arm wrapped around her waist as we swayed together. Her head rested against my chest, and I could feel the tension slowly ebb away from her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.
“For what?” I asked, my voice equally soft.
“For this. For tonight. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.”
I didn’t respond immediately; just held her tighter, letting the warmth of the moment speak for itself.
When the song ended, we stepped off the platform, still holding hands as we made our way back through the festival. The night had grown cooler, but the warmth between us was enough to keep the chill at bay. We passed by another booth, this one selling small glass trinkets shaped like animals. Mira stopped, her eyes lingering on a delicate glass fox.
“You like it?” I asked, already pulling out coins to buy it.
She looked up at me, and for the first time that night, there was no teasing in her gaze — just something soft and genuine. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I interrupted, handing the vendor the coins and placing the glass fox gently into her hands.
Mira stared at the small trinket, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before looking back at me. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
I shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I’ve been told.”
She laughed. We walked on, the glass fox clutched in her hand, the scarf still draped around her neck. For a while, neither of us said anything, content to simply be in each other’s presence.
By the time we reached the edge of the festival, the sky was dark, and the stars twinkled brightly overhead. We stood there for a moment, the festival lights flickering in the distance, the sounds of laughter and music growing faint.
“This was nice,” she said quietly, her fingers brushing against mine.
I nodded, squeezing her hand gently. “We’ll do it again sometime.”
Mira looked up at me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she smiled — a soft, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that, but now tell me what lay deeply hidden in your smile.”
