{ Mistaken Identity ㅡ
Beautiful. That was what she thought instantly as her eyes took in his features, finding no mar or scar. No imperfections, much to her dismay. But surely this couldn’t be the one she was look for— because she kept damaged goods and this person was not damaged at least on the surface her mindless search for them had come to a halt once more. Every fair looking being was indeed not who she hoped for them to be, disappointment contorted her features obviously after a few seconds had passed. After the moment of embarrassment had subsided. Her eyes trained down to her hand, as if hoping that it would somehow guide her to the soul she was looking for. But it wasn’t till she heard the stranger’s voice that she was pulled from her reverie. Realizing her place, who was near her— she knew for a fact that he was a male. The tone of his voice and though his features pleasant and fair than most males it was obvious that he was of the opposite gender. It was just her luck.
Clearing her throat, she wanted to dispel herself of anything that would hinder her speaking. She tend to get choked up when speaking to the opposite gender. For good reason, but she pulled a few muscles on her face. The corner of her lips curling up into simple smile, there was no reddening on her cheeks no more. “Dreadfully sorry sir, this is my fault. Mistaken you for someone near and dear…do you by chance have siblings?”
Maybe she just wanted to stay a bit longer, but she took a step back. Just in case this wouldn’t go well, she could just spin around and pretend this encounter never occurred and they’d be off on their own merry way.
As her gaze rested upon him, his own met it without a stutter. She had observant eyes—knowing eyes, searching eyes. The kind of eyes which he could have stared into for longer moments, trying to gauge what thoughts were within that mind, blooming like spiderwebs. The mind could be a curious place and he wondered, oh yes he wondered what kind of reasons her disappointment had. For it was there in her features, read easily as the pages of a children’s book, but like a children’s book there were little details to immerse himself within. They were withheld, cleared away like the falling autumn leaves.
The spell of discomfort that he read from her made him tilt his head to the side, black strands of hair brushing out of his eyes, framed by short, dark eyelashes. “No matter, miss”, he spoke, with a vague shake of his head to dismiss her apologies. Although she had made him tense, it did provide a temporary distraction from the restlessness in his bones, and he saw no reason not to allow it. She was beautiful, nonetheless. He had always had a weakness for beauty. Indeed, beauty and art could leave him gazing for hours, forgetting time, completely… bedazzled. Appreciation so pure, but a weakness as well, as to soil beauty? He would not want part of it.
“Afraid I do not”, he said, almost regretfully, before his head tilted to the other side instead, a curiosity in his eyes. “Who did you mistake me for, miss?” he asked, whether the question was appropriate or not. He was never one for playing by the rules.