It was an innocent incidence. A broken man met a peculiar elf. Gods forbid anyone knew he was broken, but what else was expected of a Gilnean? They stood just next to the constantly rushing water of the Canals, overlooking the recently rebuilt Park. Crimson greeted her the same way he greeted all individuals,
“‘Lo.”
“Evening,” the elf responded, giving the Gilnean a look of indifference.
Crimson, clad in a red and black suit of armor, had a mask drawn up to hide his guise; he also wore a hood, exposing only the slightest hint of his eyes.
“How’re you?” It continued as such, exchanging pleasantries and subtle flirtations.
Days and nights had passed. The two spent time in his home city of Gilneas, met up a few times to have drinks; she even started spending nights at his residence in Ironforge. Crimson quickly learned that being with her was just... easy. He found himself adoring the way her purple and white hair fell to rest just above her rear; how she carried herself in such a confident and carefree way. Though his eyes cannot see color, he could see many of them in her own cerulean orbs. Her dark skin was to die for; so was the way her womanly curves adorned her adorably short frame.
She didn’t care about his marred visage which Crimson so often hid. She didn’t care that he had lost all that made him human, nor did she care about who he truly was. The truth is: she was no different than he. She was just as ruthless, just as brutal, and just as loving of it. Seeing her handle the breaking of Sweet William had pushed any doubts away and locked in a feeling of assurance.
He wanted this woman.
Though she kept her two lives separate, just as he did, he was readily welcome into both; so was she. Crimson could see it then. He could see everything the two of them could accomplish together. He found it so easy to tell her things he had kept a secret for such an agonizingly long time.
