The beauty of an orange and gold sunrise lay like a backdrop behind a small cottage of wood; the shutters drawn tightly closed. There wasn't a soul in sight, not even the straw roof of a fellow house peeked out against the brightly colored sky. The path stood empty except for a single young man that walked down the path to town, a small skip in every step. Wind whipped across the wide open fields of the French plains; crops and grass dancing in the warm autumn breeze, which also tugged roughly at white locks of hair, pushing strands forward into large, wonder-filled brown eyes of the very fair young man. His stark white hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail that was falling loose under the assault of oncoming wind. He fidgeted with his heavily starched shirt, trying to stop the stiff fabric from clinging to his skin.
"Well, drat, now I have to do laundry," with an elongated sigh he pulled a piece of parchment out of a large wicker basket that hung limply at his wrist, "Let's see then; eggs, milk, salted pork… thank goodness it's small, I may have time to stop by the bookstore before I pick these up."
He continued down the dirt path, his worn leather boots kicking up dust with each step, he wove through trees until he found himself at the entrance to town. With a sigh of gratitude he hurried along, waving at a few of the residence and catching snippets of their various conversations, "There's the archeologist's son. You know, the handsome one from a tragic home," a woman spoke in what she thought must have been a whisper, but still thundered in his ears.
Another sigh passed through his lips as he continued on the path to the market place; he was simply sick of people thinking his father was crazy, due to the fact that he enjoyed traveling around the world and collecting ancient artifacts. He simply didn't understand why everyone thought that he was in an awful home filled with ancient corpses and a variety of curses. There was nothing tragically beautiful about it, it was just his life. Besides, the mummies were locked tight in the cellar, not spread out on the kitchen table for all to see and smell.
He snatched up a loaf of bread from the bakery, and carried on through the town, picking something up here and there until he stopped dead in front of a small bookstore nestled between a tailor and a carpenter's workshop. He pushed open the wooden door, the ringing of the small brass bells putting a sense of calm through his body, "Ms. Téa?" He called out, shutting the heavy door behind him, "are you here?"
A young woman poked her head up from behind a bookshelf, covered in cobwebs and dust, "oh, hi! Back again so soon, Ryou? You just checked out a book yesterday," she dusted her dress off, surging forward to give the young man, Ryou, a warm hug.
"I know, but I've finished it already! I could hardly put it down. Tales about adventure, and romance… there's nothing I love more," he pressed the book tight to his chest, "Do you have anything new?"
Téa laughed lightly, "Not since yesterday, no."
"That's fine, I'll just borrow an old one then," Ryou smiled, running his fingers along several spines before pulling a tattered book down from the self, "this one looks good."
"Well, you would know! You've read that one more than once," she took the book from his hands, staring at it fondly.
"Oh," Ryou scratched the back of his head, "I guess you're right."
"Well, if you like it so much, why don't you just keep it?"
"No, Ms. Téa, I couldn't…"
Téa pushed the book back into his hands, shoving him towards the door, "yes, you can. Consider it my gift to you."
Ryou gave her a bright smile as he was pushed out into the busy streets, "Thank you very much, Ms. Tea!"
…
"Dartz, I honestly don't know what you see in him," a young man with an Australian accent asked in a hushed tone, eyes following after Ryou, "not when all these beautiful ladies are swooning after you."
"Valon, do I not deserve the best?" Eyes narrowed, a firm hand squeezing the brunette's shoulder.
"Well…"
"Valon," Dartz pressed hard on the bone.
"I mean yes, sir, you do!"
"That's right. Ryou is the best, the most beautiful boy anyone in this town has ever seen. Aside from me of course," he fixed his hair in the reflection of a puddle, "and the most beautiful people in town deserve to be together. Am I wrong?"
"No, sir, not at all," Valon rubbed at his sore shoulder, slowly inching away from his boss.
"Which is why I have decided that Ryou and I will be married, he just doesn't know it yet, but once he does how could he possibly deny me?"