He was tired of taking the back streets to avoid any chance meetings with the women he was trying to avoid, tired of them dogging his steps whenever he showed his face in the noble quarters. His promise to Seles was proving harder to keep than he’d anticipated, and the nights were longer without any company. He wished more than ever that he’d never been born the Chosen, never had to deal with the intricacies of noble society. It was difficult, this business of not running away from everything and trying to keep promises.
He shuffled his feet through a frosted pile of leaves, kicking them out of his path as he made his way through yet another winding back alley to stay out of the public eye. The Church approved of his daily actions less and less, and they were always trying to impose new restrictions on him. It didn’t help that he was a staunch supporter of Sylvarant and the Sylvarant people, constantly voicing his opinions in their favor. His ties to Mizuho were not particularly in his favor either. More than once they’d threatened to brand him a traitor and a heretic, but it wouldn’t be the first time. He’d been defying the Church his entire life, just never so openly.
A flash of a startlingly familiar red caught his eye, someone walking past the mouth of the alleyway he lingered in. It was too cold for Seles to be out and about, so it couldn’t be her. He picked up his pace, curiosity kicking in. In a matter of moments he drew level with the unfamiliar redhead and nearly stopped short in surprise. Those eyes were unmistakably similar to his own, and even the features of the boy’s face were familiar. It was eerily like looking into a mirror, though the other male was clearly younger than he was and didn’t carry the weight of being the Chosen.
“Woah. Hey, who are you?” he asked, reaching out to catch the boy’s arm. He realized how rude he sounded immediately after speaking and released his grip with a sheepish laugh. “Oh, sorry, you just look…really familiar.”
