The Art of Forgiveness

There's a War (Past 1)

He let out a sigh, then set his quill down. He looked up at all the people surrounding him, feeling like the black sheep of the tribe. 

He used to dream of finding love and happiness. He used to dream of smiling and dancing with people. Now, he felt stuck. He felt like his life was purposeless and that time was just being wasted. 

He brought his eyes over to the dance floor, where a young girl about his age was dancing with her friends, smiling as brightly as she always did. 

She was eighteen years old, just a few months younger than him. Of course, he didn't know any of this, as he had never seen her before. He didn't go out much, so while most people knew practically everyone in the tribe, he knew practically no one.  

She was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her smile practically glowed.

His head tilted slightly as he rested his elbows on the table, leaning into his hands and letting out a quiet sigh as he continued to gaze at her. Her eyes were round and filled with excitement. They were a deep, dark blue color. Her hair was long and neatly combed. Blue and purple strands mixed together, reminding Marc of the flowers that were scattered throughout the celebration. Her skin was a dark blue color, like the night sky. She was rather small, but she didn't look fragile. 

He watched her dance and twirl around with her friends. She wore a long black sleeveless dress. He was surprised that she wasn't cold. Perhaps the fact that she was surrounded by people dancing kept her warm.

One of her friends spotted him, then tapped her shoulder and whispered to her, pointing at him. She frowned, then turned to face him. He immediately looked down once she looked his way, holding his lantern close as if the light it emitted would protect him.

He continued looking down, praying to Grambi that she didn't see him staring when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder.

He inhaled sharply. His heart began to race and his face began to heat up. He wanted to go back home where it was safe and quiet. He just knew that he was about to be chewed out for being a creep and staring. He silently called himself an idiot, then slowly and nervously looked up.

She stood next to him, offering a small smile. She giggled, then sat down next to him, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

"I've never seen you before," she noted, her voice sweet like honey. "I'm Danielle. What's your name?"

He stared at her, unable to compose any words. He remained silent, wondering why she was smiling at someone like him. He waited for her to sneer and call him a weirdo, then turn away and laugh at him with her friends. However, instead of sneering, she waited patiently.

"Um, this is the part where you answer," she giggled.

"Huh...?" He murmured when he shook his head and awkwardly coughed, clutching his lantern to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. "Right, right. Sorry... I'm not, ah, exactly good at talking to people. I'm Marc..."

"Ah, a name that means warrior!" Danielle giggled.

"I know. And Danielle is a name that means Grambi is your judge," Marc added, unsure if that was a weird fact to share or not. He prayed it wasn't while she tilted her head to the side and giggled.

"You know, for someone named Marc, you don't exactly look very warrior-like," she noted with a giggle. "No offense."

"I'm not a warrior," Marc awkwardly agreed, still clutching his lantern tightly. 

"What are you then?" Danielle questioned. "What's your power level?"

"Low," Marc breathed, bowing his head slightly. "I don't do well with magic."