Overture Downs Set the Sails

In the dark, she was but a wisp of a shadow, and yet she stuck out to him like the moon on a cloudless night. Her scent bathed her, masking any flaw or ill will and veiling his eyes to reason. She was a pure delight to his virgin nose and glorious because of it. She was a creature to be worshiped, and oh - she was reverent of him, a lowly peasant. The starving beggar, supplicated by a queen.

He didn't know she was just as needful, even more so.

He had no standard, no control, and a whine caught in his throat as he beheld her up close. He was afraid to touch her, though every part of him (and every part of her) implored him to. Instead, he asked with uncertainty: wh-who are you? Why do you smell like.. well, like that? There was no way he could describe it, but it was the sweetest scent on earth.