Firefly Glen it can change you

Alone and not from this place. Like her.

Fleurette mirrored his movements, tilting her head as she studied him through heavy-lashed eyes. Scars traced his body like the remnants of an untold story, each mark a whisper of battles fought and lost. He looked war-torn, battered—more than just in flesh. Was it war that had left him this way… or something far deeper?

“As you shouldn’t.”

Her voice was soft, a quiet murmur that filled only the space between them. Warmth crept into her cheeks, but she held his gaze, unwilling to bend under eyes of a summer sea. He seemed like a figure from an old tale—something golden, something tragic. It was foolish to believe in such things, but hope had always been a fragile thing she clung to, even when it frayed at the edges.

Shaking the thought away, she straightened, only for his next words to settle uncomfortably in her chest. Did she truly look that lost?

“I suppose no one—not anymore.” Her voice dipped, and for a moment, she hesitated. “Though… that isn’t quite true, either.”

She a few steps closer, slow and deliberate, her tail moving in thoughtful arcs.

“Myself,” she admitted softly. “I’m searching for myself… for the reason I am here. I can’t…remember my life from before a year ago.”

Her gaze lingered on his, waiting, watching. And then—something shifted. A shadow passed behind his eyes, something distant, something sorrowful.

Her lips parted as if to say something else, but she hesitated. The teasing edge in her voice faded, replaced by quiet concern.

“And you?” she asked, gentler now. “Are you searching for something? Or… have you already lost it?”