We live in two different worlds. I’m kalidorian, your vulturi. In my tribe we are supposed to find someone from bronchians. But I love you. We met a few moons ago, but to you 20. We sat and talked for ages, watching a re-enactments of great wars your tribe faced. It was magical. People used their ‘abilities’ to make it exactly like the night of the war. The smells were intoxicating, burning, smoke, and the bitter smell of all the vulturi blood shed. We arrived at the end of the re-enactment, and the warriors disappeared into a puff of turquoise smoke, bending and twirling like a lace pattern. It was marvellous. Then vulturi magic fell from the sky, covering us all. I looked over to you, you were smiling wide, loving every moment. “Crowdie!” your chief yelled. Turning your head towards the sound , then back to me. “sorry Silvi, I have to go.” “why?” I asked, not wanting this moment to end. “I’m not sure,” you said sadly. “Must be important though.” Then you left. “oh.”
