Fate?
A tall, fair-skinned elf stands, shooting daggers at you with his
eyes.
"What are YOU doing here?"
"I-I-" You fluster, unsure of the way he is looking at
you. Unexpectedly, he sighs, and sits back down.
"Well, I suppose we expected you to come, sooner or later. It
is fate." You frown. Whjat can he be talking about.
"I think you must be thinking of someone else. I am not-"
"You doubt my judgment?" He asks, warm voice turning
sharp.
"No! It's just, I don't understand-" Inwardly, you batter
yourself at being so weak, and run a tired hand over dark green eyes.
"Well," he says, "I will explain."
