There was a war going on out there somewhere. A war that had lasted for centuries. A great war that had left the world divided.
He slowly walked through his small tribe's village, holding his lantern in his right hand. He, just like everyone else in the Tribe of Darkness, was very well aware of the war. It was a unique type of war, one where there weren't battles or fights, just divisions and rules. The war couldn't touch him so long as he stayed in line and kept himself safe in his village.
He had just turned nineteen, which was when the tribe officially considered youth to be adults. However, he didn't feel much different than he had before. When he looked down at his reflection in his lantern, he saw the same boy he had always seen. He saw smooth periwinkle-colored skin. His facial features were fairly sharp, yet symmetric for the most part. Covering his soulful luminescent silver eyes were round oversized glasses. His raven black hair was wavy and his bangs brushed over his eyes. He was tall and thin, to the point where people would often make fun of him, especially since most tribesmen weren't quite nearly as tall. He was about half a foot taller than the average person he crossed, which of course made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't like standing out or being noticeable.
That night, the people of his village were all supposed to gather together in the center of town to celebrate the new year. It had been another year of peace for the tribe, filled with little to no conflict, at least as far as the people were aware. The sky was a dark blue color. There were no stars, but the moon was shining brightly, glowing the same blueish-white color as his lantern.
The people of the Tribe of Darkness were primarily nocturnal. They slept during the daytime, then became active at night in order to fully be one with the darkness. It was some strange rule that he never fully understood, but never had the courage to question. No one else seemed to care, so who would he be to speak up?
He walked to the celebration alone, pulling the hood of his blue cloak up over his head to prevent his neck and ears from getting cold. He had no one to go to the celebration with, as his parents were killed in an accident many years ago and he had no siblings. Or friends for that matter.
He absolutely hated the fact that he was always alone, but he was too awkward and shy to make any real friends. Every time he tried to be courageous and speak to people, they would give him strange glances, then move on with their lives, so he stopped trying. On top of that, whenever he did speak up, he would nine out of ten times just say something embarrassing without thinking.
He wasn't sure why he was even going to the celebration in the first place. He knew that the whole night would be spent with him, sitting alone away from the crowd, counting down the seconds until he could go home and read. He silently scolded himself for not bringing a book with him to the event in the first place.
The center of town was decorated with purple and blue flowers covering practically every corner. People were smiling, talking, eating, and dancing to the upbeat music that was being played. Looking around, he could see that practically every person there was with someone else. Some were hanging out in groups of friends, others were dancing with their significant other. He was the only one who was all alone.
He looked down and sighed, knowing that it was a mistake even coming in the first place. He sat himself down at one of the many tables that had been set up around the edge, then pulled out a quill, a small inkwell, and his notebook. He opened to the seventh page, then adjusted his glasses and began writing.
January 1st,
The moon is bright. It's round and full on this night of celebration, reflecting the sunlight into our darkness. When I look around, I see people smile. I am surrounded by flowers blooming and gentle songs playing. I am surrounded by others who are celebrating another year of joy. Another year of happiness. I, on the other hand, do not know what I wish to celebrate. Perhaps another year of simply being alive. I'm unsure. Is something as simple as that even worthy of being celebrated?
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."
"Really? Well, what are you good at then?" She questioned.
He looked up at her slowly. For a moment, he silently wondered what she was doing talking to him in the first place. She was clearly having a good time with her friends earlier, so why would she sit down and start a conversation with him, the weird awkward guy who had practically no talent?
"Writing..." he trailed off. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm good at it, but I... I don't know, I do it a lot, I guess..."
"Writing?" Danielle asked, leaning forward slightly. "You're a writer?"
"Not really. I haven't actually written anything worthwhile," Marc told her with an awkward shrug, which made her giggle. He couldn't see what was so funny, so his first instinct was to think that she finally realized how weird he was and was laughing at him.
However, instead of grabbing her friends and talking about the complete weirdo she just met, she looked him in the eyes and continued to smile. "I'm sorry. It's just cute how you continue to belittle yourself. I bet you've written worthwhile things. People just haven't recognized it yet."
She then looked at his lantern, raising her eyebrows slightly at the light shining from it. "What is that?"
"A lantern," Marc quietly explained, still trying to process what she had just said. His mind was stuck on the word cute. Cute, what did she mean by that? Cute as in ridiculous and childish, or cute as in endearing?
"What's it for?" Danielle asked.
"I'm scared of the dark," he stated, before smacking himself in the face. Why in the WORLDS would he say that out loud?! If she didn't think he was ridiculous before, he was certain she did now.
When he was younger, people would constantly laugh at him and make fun of him for being afraid of the darkness. After all, what kind of person from the Tribe of Darkness itself was afraid of the dark?
She didn't laugh, however. Instead, she made a quiet remark that Marc could barely hear. He did catch her reusing the word cute, which made his mind swirl. Why did she keep saying that word, and what did she mean by it?! He was genuinely confused to the point where it was almost frustrating.
"Well, Marc, the writer who's scared of the dark, what type of book are you currently working on?" Danielle asked next.
Marc paused, choosing to remain silent while he tried to think of an answer.
"I don't know," he eventually admitted.
Danielle raised her eyebrows, then leaned slightly closer to him. Marc could feel his face turn warm, though he wasn't sure if that was due to him feeling nervous from having to partake in a conversation with another individual, or because of the fact that her eyes were so round and vibrant.
"Well, if you were writing right this moment, what would you write about?" She asked.
"Your eyes," he said, mentally facepalming. How many times was he going to say something embarrassing tonight before deciding to go home and hide away from the world in shame?! He shook his head, trying to awkwardly save the conversation. "I-I mean, just because they're what I'm looking at right now. Not because they stood out to me or anything. Not that they didn't stand out to me! Because they did. You have quite lovely eyes. I'm just saying-... I think I should stop talking now."
He clutched his lantern tightly and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that she would go away and forget all the ridiculous things he just said. He wanted to go home and hide in his small room forever.
She didn't leave, though. Instead, Marc felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He slowly opened his eyes, then looked up at her. She had stood up, still smiling that sweet smile that somehow looked genuine. "That's really sweet," she breathed. Her tone sounded genuine too. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then turned and walked back towards her friends.
Marc silently watched her as she went, noting how perfectly even her steps were. Practically everything about her screamed kindness and perfection.
Not much later, he decided to go home. When he made it back into his house, he set his lantern on his nightstand, then sat down at his writing desk. He pulled out his notebook, his inkwell, and his quill. Then, he got to writing.
January 1st,
Tonight, I met a girl with the most beautiful eyes. They were round and practically glowed, like the moon. However, they were also deep, dark, and mysterious, like the night sky. She was too beautiful for words to even begin to describe. Her hair was the color of blue and purple flowers in bloom, her hands were soft and gentle, and her smile was radiant and cheerful. I know that I just met Danielle today, but I already know that I would do anything she ever asked of me.