Note: Still new to narrative works, so feedback is welcome but be kind! I may do readings of all the narratives I write in the future, so stay tuned!
The high elf moved into a poorly lit alley. He weaved his way through pushcarts selling items he'd never seen before and whose purpose were unknown to him.
He gave the vendors as wide a birth as he could in the limited space, trying not to make eye contact as he pushed past their patrons. He shrugged his cloak closer to him, pulling down his hood as he consulted a hand drawn map. Just up the alley and to the right there was a shop, indoors, unlike the street vendors. That was his destination.
He hastily pushed past more shoppers, some of which gave him dirty looks as he approached the marked location.
Finally, he saw the sign; "The Mirager". The purple letters were painted directly on to the adobe building in fancy calligraphy. He grabbed the small wooden handle of the door and hurried in, out of the bustle of the alley.
The shop was shockingly quiet compared to the commotion outside. The elf looked around the small space. Cards, wands, bells, and bottles were all cluttered onto packed shelves. Confusing paintings and colorful cloths covered the walls. Tassels hung from the low ceiling.
"Hello traveler." Said an inviting voice from behind a desk he hadn't originally noticed. "We don't get a lot of your kind around here." Her voice sounded curious, but sweet.
"My 'kind'?" the elf asked.
The woman behind the desk stood up. She was draped in red and gold exotic fabrics. They clung to her body gracefully, accentuating her hips as she moved from behind the desk toward the man.
"High elves, of course." She said, stepping close to him and removing his hood. "You couldn't possibly think this hood would hide it, could you?" she quipped gently.
His shoulders slumped. "I thought it might..." He said with a sigh.
The mirager laughed. "Sorry to burst your bubble" she said earnestly. "It's the way you walk. Easy to tell you come from a place far from here. One were you rarely need to watch your back."
"Well, I wouldn't say that. I'm a warrior, you know." He defended himself against the charismatic shop keep.
"Oh really?" she said, still standing just a few inches from him. "Do you have a name, warrior?"
Her closeness was disorienting. Not unpleasant by any stretch, but he was unsure if he should move.
"Eylin," He said. "And you?"
"My name's Ajaar, but most just call me the Mirager." She took a slight step back, nodding to the 'Mirager' sign above the cluttered desk.
Realizing he'd been holding his breath, Eylin released a sigh of air. He breathed in again and noticed the floral scent of the mirager. It was lovely, but different than anything he'd smelled before. A mixture of lavender and fresh citrus, with a hint of... nostalgia?
"Well, what brings you here noble warrior Eylin? Don't you know cavorting with us street urchins could damage your reputation?" She said lightly.
Raising an eyebrow at her wording he said "I'd hardly call you a street urchin, and this definitely isn't cavorting."
Ajaar laughed at this. "You certainly are buttoned up, huh?" she tossed a piece of draped fabric over her shoulder as she leaned on her desk, facing him.
"Fine. Cavorting or no, this isn't any place for a high elf, if you value your reputation," she said. "and I'm definitely a street urchin" She winked at him.
The elf's heart pitter pattered irregularly when the mirager winked, sending a little shock through his chest. He shook it off "Well I value tactical advantages far more than reputation." he stated.
"Hmm," The mirager leaned forward. The dangling fabrics revealed a distinct and appealing line of cleavage that Eylin's eyes fixated on for longer than he thought appropriate. He snapped his head too forcefully off her chest up to her face. She gave him an amused look as he did so, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.
"So you think I can provide you a tactical advantage then?" She asked. Eylin was grateful for the return to the conversation. His thoughts had started drifting, maybe it was the heat of the desert messing with his concentration...
"I do. That is, if you're willing for forge a relic for the side of light..." he trailed off, the last words raised to form a question.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She questioned back.
The elf was caught off guard "well because... you work for..." he sputtered trying to phrase things least judgmentally. "Well, in the past you've worked for--" he was cut off by Ajaar's laughter.
"I work for money, Eylin. An independent contractor if you will. I don't have an alignment or a stake in your war. Us nomads won't be affected by your monarch's petty squabbles." She spoke casually but Eylin still felt defensive.
"F-forgive me, mirager, but they're hardly 'petty squabbles'. I- well everyone in my land really, will be deeply affected by the outcome of this war." He said.
"Mhmm. Where as I'll only be affected by not getting paid. So you see where our philosophies differ." The mirager smiled up at the elf.
"I certainly do," He retorted, his tone harsh "Mine aren't nearly so selfish." He spat, angry that he'd felt affection toward her just moments ago.
