Aiyanna — Roleplayer Guild

Zafiriel

Through her fingers, Zafiriel saw the teacher read her note in utter disbelief. His brows were bent in a beautiful curve of complete bafflement. He eyed the boy and her, apparently contemplating something. It took Firiel a while to realise another note had fallen out of her pocket. Her eyes widened in shock. She had given him the wrong paper slip! Before she was able to take the initiative to clear the situation, a girl showed up and greeted the teacher. She had long navy blue locks, and she was wearing a school uniform.

"Young lady, how good are you at speech writing?"

"I believe my ability at speech writing is quite good. I would happily be willing to help if you request it, professor."

Mr. Manilow smiled in agreement, and, without so much as a wave to the girl to follow him, the two disappeared to his office. Firiel raised an arm to catch his attention, all in vain. As the door closed with a gentle thud, she sighed. She bonked her head in the wall behind her three times, as if to wake herself up from a bad dream.

Dear Mr. Paolini… Where are you now? What might you be thinking? Why did you send me here? What am I supposed to do? I miss you so dearly…

"Come on, you can't just say something like that and then run away. Not only that, you still haven't told what's wrong!"

As Firiel felt a gentle nudge from her side, she almost sprung on her feet. The touch left a tingling sensation in her arm. She shifted uncomfortably. The only person who had ever touched her was her foster grandfather. He had slapped her on both cheeks. But it had hurt, which meant Grandfather Paolini had not meant well. What if the touch didn’t hurt but tickled? She touched her forehead in deep thought. She wasn’t aware that the boy was till around, even sitting right beside her.

"Look maybe I was being a bit too harsh a second ago. My name's Silas, and you are?"

”Je m'appelle Zafiriel Marie Louise de Grantaine. Heureux de faire votre connaissance – wait. No.”

Zafiriel stopped for a moment. She glanced at the boy beside her. He looked somewhat concerned. A wave of heat crashed through her body, causing steam puff out of her ears. She felt the heat tingle her whole body. Soon her while body was as hot as a stove, so hot you could have boiled water in a kettle on her forehead.

She was not in a prestigious family meeting in Grandfather’s villa in Paris. She had been so immersed in the unpleasant memory that she had spoken without second thoughts. How did one present themselves again? You had to say something else beside your own name. ’Happy to see your face?’ No. It had nothing to do with a person’s face. ’I call myself Zafiriel de Grantaine. Feel free to address me as such.’ That did not sound genuine. Communicating with people was like math. Zafiriel had to combine words and then contemplate the possible outcome.
After a few minutes, Firiel had come to a conclusion.

”Zafi”, she said, nodding reassuringly, her face void of emotion. ”Don’t worry. I am not broken.”

As she said that, another puff of smoke escaped through her ear, straight to Silas’s face.

”Ahh. I’m sorry. I think I might be broken after all”, she said, hiding her ear behind her hand, completely forgetting she had complimented his eyes a moment ago.

@CriticalHit
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Elven Envoy

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