Memories with Aaralyn
The library was quiet, the curtains drawn over the Oriel window, and, sitting at one of the small desks, Aaralyn focused on a novel, ignoring the rest of the world.
Not realizing anyone else was inside, Griffin strode into the room, peering at the cluster of books that resides on the shelves. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the shapeshifter, and, startled, he spun toward her.
She barely spared a glance at him.
“Hello, Griffin, was it?” she called, smiling to show she was teasing. With a groan, he rolled his eyes, making his way over to her.
“I am not fond of your sarcasm,” he retorted, taking the seat across from her.
“If I’m sarcastic, it means I can tolerate you. You should be flattered.” Her gaze drifted back to her book, and, following it, Griffin observed the title.
“‘Eragon?’” he queried, drawing her eyes back to him. “You enjoy fantasy? I’ve always found the story of how a simple farm boy manages to raise a powerful dragon rather... interesting, no? The adventure and action has always enthralled me.”
“Sure,” she responded, shrugging and closing the book with a sigh. “I’m something that should be in a fantasy story, right? Why not like fantasy books?” He nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve read a lot of fantasy novels?”
“Yes. Solitude provides a significant amount of time to enjoy literature. It is refreshing to escape every once in awhile.”
“I know how that feels, Griffin. Living in solitary conditions isn’t exactly the greatest.”
“You really do not understand, but I do commend your attempt at sympathizing with me.”
She bit her lip as the situation began to grow awkward.
“Aaralyn, you... are a shapeshifter, correct?” he asked softly, earning a short nod in response. “May I ask a small favor.”
“Well, it’d help if I knew the context.”
“I just... would like to see a face. I am sure it would not be a problem for you.”
“Sure.”
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes momentarily.
“Would you change into me as you did during charades?” Furrowing her brow, she did as he requested. “Without... without the scars, if you could.” After a second of concentration, the small lines disappeared from her face, and Griffin inhaled sharply.
Bowing his head, he rose abruptly, averting his gaze.
“Can I ask why you wanted to see that?” Aaralyn questioned, freezing him in his tracks. “Your scars make you who you are, you know.” With a sigh, he turned to face her. She returned her face to normal, hoping she hadn’t offended him.
“You could ask, but you would only be disappointed. It was not for the reason you think. Thank you, though.”
Quickly, he turned on his heel and left, taking long strides and leaving Aaralyn to wallow in her confusion.
Shrugging, she realized it would do her no good to dwell on his mysterious ways. She opened her book and began to read yet again, smiling absently at the way he became so passionate about books.
Who would have guessed that the angry jerk was a bookworm like herself?
