Raistlin watched Crysania cross the courtyard of the temple, and wondered if anything else on this earth had been made to be more beautiful than she.  Since coming back in time, before the Cataclysm, she had changed her severe hairstyle for one more suiting and her skin took on a healthier flush than it had before.  Her grace was astounding, and he always found himself trying not to goggle while in her presence.  He had seen many a beautiful woman in his time as a missionary with that dolt of a brother of his, but none so beautiful or intelligent as Crysania.  He watched as she was stopped by that idiot of a kender Tas, well not really an idiot, he did have some sense after all.  It seemed the kender had something urgent to say to Crysania, or else he wouldn't be so paranoid.  Seemingly forever, is what it took for Tas to relay his message to the lady, and Raistlin was growing impatient.  He had to see her.  Not really for any particular reason, only to see her.  Oh, he would make his excuses on how he needed her to come with him; that helping him was not evil, but doing the world a favour.

Finally Tas let Crysania go, and she sped into the temple with a few hurried words to the guards.  Raistlin made ready to see her, which wasn't much considering his fairly simple lifestyle.  Aside from the concoctions he had to take periodically he really did live simply, he didn't need all the clothes and other garb; things that people seemed to think necessary for a Hero of the Lance.  He built the fire back up, despite the pre-cataclysmic heat, and set some incense burning.  Not the intensely sweet incense that the clerics burned in the temple, but a muskier wilder scent that kept your senses awake instead of ensnaring them and making them fall asleep, like the scent used at prayers.  He had never really deigned to preen himself too much, even when he had been a missionary; but now he looked in the mirror that had been set out for Fistandantilus' use, seeing not the gold skin and hourglass eyes, but the old familiar dark brown eyes and pale skin he had once owned.  Remembering the day Crysania had seen him in the chambers of the King Priest, he smiled to think of her reaction to his change of appearance.  She had only known him with the gold skin, and had not recognized him.  Her reaction had pleased him somewhat; it was nice not to have someone gasp in his presence for once.  His hair was dark brown again, like it had been, and a little past shoulder length.  He missed this, the way he had looked before.  Even though he had always been "sickly", he had liked the way he looked.

"Goddess damn you, Fistandantilus!" he muttered bitterly into the twilight air.

He had killed the man already, but the long term effects of what that man had done were still there.  Hearing a gasp behind him, he turned to see Crysania standing in the doorway.  Of course, she had never heard him curse before now, and it must be a shock for her to hear such words come from his mouth.  Standing slowly, he motioned for her to come in and waved the doors shut behind her. 

Not having the hourglass eyes made the whole world seem different now.  He was able to see things as they were, not as they would look in death; including Crysania.  Even with the shock of his words, he could see that she was comfortable in his presence and she looked at him in a strange way.  He could not place the look no matter how he racked his brain, it did not make him feel uncomfortable or anything, quite the contrary, and he rather liked the way she looked at him.  She came closer to him, her dress falling around her in graceful folds and her eyes shone in the dim twilight.  He could feel her warmth as she drew nearer; smell her light perfume as it wafted from her in strong waves.  Knowing he must say something, he struggled for words that simply would not come.  He stood firm, determined not to back away from her; she had a very determined look in her eyes, and it made him wonder just what he had got himself into.  He reminded himself that he "really" had called her here to discuss the fact that she would be a great asset in his mission, but that was promptly thrown out the window as she came to a stop a little less than two feet away from him.  She came up to his jaw line; and he, though being twin to Caramon, was not the tallest man in the world. 

Looking down at her, he noticed that she seemed uncertain of something; as if she wanted to ask him a question but was afraid he'd deny her an answer.  This concerned him as had never really felt this way about anyone before, in fact he'd never cared if anyone was uncertain about anything unless it was himself. 

"What's wrong?" he asked concernedly.

She didn't answer him, but dropped her head and studied her hands.  Drawing nearer to her, he put his hand on her chin and gently made her face him.

"You can tell me, I'm not likely to tell anyone now am I?" he asked, smiling slightly.

She smiled, and looked up at him and into his eyes.  His heart melted right there, and everything he had been planning to say, the excuses he had made to why she was there, were all thrown out the window.  He knew nothing but her eyes, which were dark pools full of emotion.  Not realizing his hand was still on her face, he began to gently stroke her cheek.  Without warning, his vision was heightened and he found himself looking into what seemed like a scene from the future.

Raistlin walked across a clearing of wildflowers looking out over the horizon.  He could see the outskirts of the town coming ever closer as he himself came ever closer to Crysania and home.  He shifted his staff to his other hand and quickened his pace so as to get there faster.  The first houses were just beginning to come into sight around him, and other late travellers greeted him from the road.  The tavern and inn were becoming bigger shadows in the slight twilight that filled the village, and he stepped aside as a band of children ran past him hurrying to get home before first dark.  A little girl, who was the smallest of them all, came straggling after and gasped as she ran into him.  He smiled down at her and laid his hand on her head, saying a spell of strength over her before sending her on her way.  The little girl smiled up at him and ran off to join the others who had just realized she was missing.  He waited to make sure she made it to them before going on. 

Finally reaching the inn, he made his way around it to the magnificent house that belonged to his brother and Tika.  He walked up to the door and knocked out of courtesy.  He heard the latches begin to unlock, and voices behind the door and a great rustling before the door was actually opened.  Tasselhoff Burrfoot stood at the door with Tika behind him, who had apparently been trying to wrestle something from his grasp that had managed to "find" its way into one of his pouches, 

"Raistlin!" Tas said excitedly, "It's about time you came; Crysania has been worried all day!"

Stepping in, he reached out to gather Tika in a hug and keep Tas from "accidentally" finding anything from his pockets. 

"Where is Crysania?" he asked hurriedly, he hadn't seen her in over a month.

"Up in your room, she went to bed early after the crowd began to get big at the tavern." Replied Tika as she stepped back to survey him. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some supper first? I could get you some from the kitchen if you'd like."

"No, thank you.  I think I'll go see Crysania now.  It's nice to see you both again.  Give my regards to Caramon for me."

He walked off before the other two could say anything else, but not without noticing the knowing look they shared before resuming their argument over the trinket.  Taking the steps two at a time, which he never did and was a matter of note for Tika and Tas, he made his way up to the third floor and the last door on the right.  Quietly, he opened the door and stepped in.  Leaving his staff by the door, he walked over to the bed, which was bathed in moonlight from the open window.  Crysania lay in slumber, her chest rising and falling gently as she breathed.  He caught his own breath, he had almost forgotten what her beauty did to him, and this image in the moonlight captivated his heart.  He sat down on the bed and stroked her cheek with his hand, her warm silky skin sending tremors through him.  Leaning forward, he kissed her gently; and as he did so, she awoke and looked into his eyes.  He was lost in her eyes and the only other thing he knew was her arms around him, bringing him closer…

Raistlin realized that he was still gazing into Crysania's eyes, and he felt her arms around him, holding him close.  Her warmth was intoxicating.  The way she looked at him was intoxicating as well, could she feel about him the way he felt about her? No, it was his imagination; he was seeing things he wanted to see not what was really there.  But she was so close, and she was warm and her eyes were pulling him in.  What had he gotten himself into?