Light Eyes; DarK Eyes

Noise. People talking, laughing, shouting. Children crying. Animals braying, neighing, lowing, and barking. Weapons clashing, music playing. Smells. Unwashed people, animals, liquor, foods of all kinds, fires and smoke. Sights. Competitions, games, and stalls selling all manner of food and trinkets, people and children everywhere. The whole of the Celestine city had converged upon the fair grounds for the annual summer solstice festival, one of the largest festivals in their society. Aiden followed Aurora around the fair as she tried to control her exuberance, an amused smirk playing about his lips. She was thrilled by this kind of thing, and it showed.
Everyone was dressed in the best clothes available. This was, after all, when the Celestine people thanked and praised the Gods for another year, and prayed for continued good fortune. Silks and velvets, linens and calicos were everywhere, each person trying hard to outdo the next. Aiden had to admit, Aurora was gorgeous in the outfit she was wearing—despite the effort it had been for her and the tailor to agree on something. It was composed of a very short, dress-like tunic that reached her knees and beautifully made loose pants that acted almost like skirts. The pants were black, embroidered with ice blue patterns. The tunic was a dark silver color with more of the ice blue embroidery on it. The whole affair was made of silk and the finest linen available. He gained a rather unnecessary appreciation for her body—unnecessary only because he’d already formed a disturbing attraction to it, and this was only icing on the cake.
Aurora, meanwhile, admired the tailor’s work on Aiden. He had been reluctant to give the woman any more work—he still harbored his own doubts about the sensibility of his attendance of the sacred festival, no doubt. He wore comfortably loose pants—black, with stitching that matched the stuff on her pants, only in blood red. His shirt was very dark red, silver and black stitching tracing around his throat and down his shoulders. The tailor had something of a thing for matching eye and hair colors in her clothing. The shirt was cut loosely enough to allow full movement, but close enough to show his broad shoulders and slim waist to their best.
The collar that rested around his throat had obligingly been turned black under the tailor’s demands, for all it made Aurora very uncomfortable. Aiden’s feelings about the bind hadn’t changed in the least. He may not have used magic very often anyway, but not having it available when it was needed was almost as bad as suddenly blindfolding him and shoving him into a maze. Aurora had noticed when he went to use it and suddenly realized that he couldn’t, for all he tried to hide it. But he had only shrugged and stood still while she quickly changed the color of it.
She glanced at him almost nervously. Aiden’s eyes were slightly narrowed at something indistinguishable. He must have felt her gaze, because he returned his attention to her. An inquisitive look was on his face. “What?”
She could feel her face heat up. “N-nothing. A-are you enjoying yourself?”
If he thought it odd that she stuttered, he said nothing about it. “Mm. I suppose. It’s a lot different from a Darric festival, that’s all.” Something bumped into Aurora, and a muttered apology was heard from behind her. She shrugged it off quickly, but Aiden had caught the man—no, the boy—by the arm. The boy struggled in his firm grip.
“Though, some things never change,” he muttered before addressing the youth. “That wasn’t very polite.” He admonished the boy, who struggled in his firm grip. The princess stared at Aiden like he’d lost his mind.
“Aiden, let him go. He’s only bumped into me, not taken a dagger to my ribs. What’s wrong with you?” He appeared to ignore her completely, disregarding the warning squeeze that the damn contract was giving him.
“Return her purse, little pickpocket.” There was something close to affection in his voice, despite the command he was giving. “And don’t go after such obvious marks, next time.” The boy snarled something, but threw the purse in Aiden’s face, before slipping back into the crowds, mumbling a string of curses. Calmly as ever, he returned the little pouch to her.
“I didn’t even feel him go for this,” she said, stunned. A kindly—and slightly amused grin spread across his face.
“I don’t doubt that for a second. Pickpockets—at least the good ones—take timing very seriously. Takes a thief to catch one, you know?” she stared at him indecipherably for a moment, wondering what he’d meant. Had he once been forced to live off the streets?
“Mm. You’ve got that look on your face again, you know.” He remarked suddenly, with a tiny grin.
“What?”
“The look on your face tells me that you want to ask questions, but you aren’t sure if I’ll answer. My advice is to ask, and if I answer, then you’ll know, and if I don’t, you’re probably better off not knowing.” He sent her a sideways glance filled with laughter at her hesitation.
“Alright, then. Have you ever stolen anything?” Aurora asked, irritated by his laughter.
“Ah. Touché. That I have. Now it’s my turn. Have you?” He asked, lighthearted still.
“No, but I never needed to, either.”
He continued to smile. “That’s good. I’ve always felt that girls especially shouldn’t need to steal to survive.” Aiden responded. “Not that boys should either, but they generally have less to lose if they’re caught.” She blinked.
“I shouldn’t think that girls have much more to lose than boys.”
He shrugged. “It depends on who catches them. Some’ll let them off with a cuff upside the ear and a scolding; others tend to have more painful ways of retribution. Anyway,” he was evading now, and he knew she knew it, “this isn’t the time to be talking about thievery. You’re just inviting trouble. What else happens during these festivals?”
Dropping the subject, she told him that and more, before getting into a discussion that lasted until the fires were starting to burn down, and then they were watching young lovers taking running jumps, hand-in-hand, over the embers.
“We don’t do that in Darria, you know.” He told her quietly, leaning against a conveniently placed wagon. Aurora looked up from where she sat, next to him, in surprise.
“No?”
Aiden shook his head. “Nope. We have two fires, maybe this far apart,” he held out his hands at a little more than shoulder width apart. “The two intended meet in the center, and depending on which direction they move, the corresponding partner will control the marriage.” He stopped suddenly, and looked over at a group of older children that were too old to have been put to bed, but too young for jumping embers. They quickly turned away, having been caught eavesdropping.
“Hmm…Hey, Aurora, do you trust me?” Aurora looked up, startled. He looked thoughtful. And wistful, perhaps.
“Yes, I trust you.” She said, wondering what brought this on.
“Enough to take this thing off for a couple of minutes?” he jerked a thumb at the collar. Aurora blinked.
“What would you do if I did?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. He chuckled humorlessly.
“If I told you, you wouldn’t have to trust me. Besides, what if I lied?”
“I don’t think you’d lie to me.” On an impulse, she stood, reached up, and tugged it off. “There. You have five minutes, then it has to go back on, or my father will have our hides.” He looked properly stunned.
“You—you’re sure?” he found he quite liked being trusted.
Aurora was amazed by the smile he rewarded her with. It was utterly dazzling. He should be allowed this more often, she thought weakly.
“What are you going to do?” she asked again, curious. He smiled again.
“Watch.” With that, and a swift hand gesture, he raised the same hand to his mouth, and blew. Butterflies formed, made of softly glimmering blue-white light. Like fairies, they circled the group of children, who shrieked in delight. Aiden leaned back again, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. Aurora too watched, almost dumbstruck by the gorgeous sight. Not quite finished, Aiden leaned down, and plucked a few rough handfuls of grass. Putting them in the palm of his right hand, he covered the plants with his right, and concentrated. The grass blades became several handfuls of tiny white flowers. With a flourish, he emptied his hands over her head, raining the flowers over her in a shower of white. With a laugh at the stunned and awed look on her face, he had her place the collar back on, decreasing the danger of King Celadon having their hides.