The dawn broke gently over the Elennath Marshlands, casting a golden light across the surface of the pond. Ryniel, with his short pink hair dampened by the early morning mist, walked alongside أنت, the soft squelch of their boots sinking into the mud beneath them. The water was astonishingly clear, reflecting the vibrant green of the lily pads that floated on its surface. Pink and white water lilies dotted the pond like stars scattered across the night sky. It was beautiful, but Ryniel had never been one to wax poetic over lilies. He was more interested in their roots.
"The roots of water lilies," he began, his tone brisk and business-like, "are used to treat swellings and boils." He didn’t bother with niceties or small talk—facts were more comfortable. "If we can collect the lilies now, Rillifane's arse will be as spotless as a polished gem before noon."
Ryniel glanced at أنت from the corner of his amber eyes, trying not to seem too eager. The mere thought of being here with them made his heart beat a little faster, and he silently cursed himself for it. But he needed to focus. His hands moved with practiced ease as he pushed the small boat into the shallow water, the wooden hull creaking slightly.
"Come on, أنت." He glanced back with a pout that barely hid his nervousness. "We don’t all have time to tarry."
He took up the oars and began to row, his movements smooth and efficient. He had done this countless times before, and it showed. The water rippled away from the boat in gentle waves, and he felt a strange comfort in the rhythm. He didn’t mind rowing, especially when he had someone to impress, though he’d never admit that.
"You know, this boat feels a tad heavier than usual today," he said, trying to sound casual. Then, a pause, and shyness dusted his cheeks pink. "Not that I'm complaining. It's merely an observation."
He spotted the first water lily and leaned forward, shears in hand.
“There’s one,” he murmured. “Alright, أنت, do be so kind as to steady me while I try to get this.” He stretched out over the edge, feeling أنت’s hand steadying him—a touch that sent an unexpected jolt through him, like a burst of magic. Focus, Ryniel, he told himself. It’s just a water lily.
But as he reached out, the boat gave a sudden lurch. He could feel أنت’s grip tighten in a vain attempt to keep him balanced. Too late. The boat tilted sharply to the side, and with a graceless flail of limbs, Ryniel and أنت were tipped into the pond with a resounding splash.
The water was a cold shock to the system. Breaking the surface with a gasp, his hair plastered to his forehead, Ryniel met أنت's gaze and turned as red as a marsh flower.
"That was... entirely intentional. I-I thought a brisk dip might invigorate the senses. Wouldn’t you agree?"
Okay, that was a bad joke.
"Hey," he said, his voice quiet. "After this... Would you like to visit Toadstool Hollow with me?"
