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Not from here, darling?

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Feyre placed both feet on the cobblestone path and stepped out of the taxi. Her eyes widened at the beautiful, prehistoric building before her. Smooth sandstone with decorative arches and intricate designs lined every corner premises. Frosted glass windows with grey vintage lamps emitting warm light, perched on the edge of each window, creating a space that felt ancient. The soft glow of the moon, shone down upon the building and replaced a towering structure with a building that seemed alive. Feyre looked towards the sky, taking in the twinkling stars and smiled as the cool wind caressed her cheek.

The smell of burnt popcorn met her nose and instantly she looked towards to the small shop selling the famous local food. She frowned as her stomach grumbled, unsatisfied with the healthy diet she was partaking in. The reminder of her previous meal of salad with chicken, brought a wave of disappointment. The melodic sound of laughter from her left, brought her back to reality. She glanced back at her destination and her veins suddenly filled with excitement, urging her to enter the alluring building in front of her.

As Feyre walked towards the atavistic establishment, she stumbled as a result of the uneven ground. Her clumsy side appeared as she almost toppled over but at the last moment righted herself. Many pairs of eyes swung in her direction upon noticing her mishap. It could have also been because of the sparky, deep blue blazer that contrasted her golden brown hair. Her face flamed but she carried on and plastered a confident smile on her face. An idea of a painting flashed before her eyes. ‘A statement of the century’ is what she would call it.

Upon reaching the end of the queue, she promptly opened her bag, searching for an item, only to realise its absence. Her wallet. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be able to purchase the well-known treat of this place and luckily, she still had her ticket. She patiently waited as the lined shortened until she was at the front. The usher with a nametag that said ‘Rhys’, dressed all black and eyes so blue that could have been violet, pointedly glimpsed at her outfit and rose a single brow. Feyre offered up a dazzling smile as she said in the old language,

“Have to make an impression on Velaris somehow!”

Rhys chuckled and it was then she noticed just how beautiful he was. Possibly the most beautiful man see has ever seen. Her admiring was cut short when he replied smoothly in her language,

“Not from here, darling?” Feyre’s brows rose and her smile slipped,

“How did you know?”

His eyes sparkled as he answered,

“You sound like you’re speaking straight out of the old text.”

Feyre gasped in surprise. She thought use of the old language was impeccable. Rhys laughed upon noticing her face as he opened his hand, an indication for the ticket to be handed over. She placed the creamed coloured ticket in his waiting hand, and then he reached behind him pick up the informative brochure for tonight. He turned back around and gave her the brochure. He smiled at her and said,

“Don’t worry, your old language is perfect. What I really meant was I wouldn’t forget a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

Feyre felt heat rise to her cheeks. Never would she have expected that response. She wanted to exit this situation fast and slow her racing heart. She looked back at Rhys and responded with a simple,

“Thanks.”

She quickly walked away, hoping to calm her nerves before the show started. Feyre continued on and walked through the imposing wooden doors. Her eyes glanced at the paper in her hand and as she flipped the brochure over, she stopped in the middle of the hall to read the words written in delicate writing,

Darling,
If you ever feel like practicing in your old language in a new environment, I can be the perfect person ;)
Or if you just want to talk in general, find me at the house of wind.
Hope to hear from the beautiful lady soon.
-Rhys

Feyre’s heart stopped beating all together, then a grin as blinding as the sun emerged. Suddenly this man held more interest to her than the actual performance. An idea formed in Feyre’s mind but with being already full of nervous energy, she suddenly felt shy. She glanced at the message again and decided to just do it. She hurriedly walked back towards the entrance and as she spotted Rhys again, he looked up, directly at her. Their eyes connected as the air around them sang, as if they were being pushed them together.

As she reached the booth, Rhys gave her a questioning look. Feyre looked deep into his eyes and said one simple word,

“Yes.”

It was like she had hung the moon and stars with the smile Rhys gave her. It was so contagious that she joined in too. Another painting flashed in her mind; this time of a future filled with beauty. One where her life was quiet and beautiful, just like the night sky. Rhys would be there, and everything would feel perfect, like a dream that she wished for and was answered by the stars. She knew in that instant what it would be called,

‘To the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered.’