The glow of the moon and her white silk gown make a lovely contrast against the pitch-black of the night sky. Her slender fingers entwine with his calloused ones as they walk along the path, enjoying the view.
Sigurd's blush is visible even in the dark, and Deirdre stifles a giggle. It's rather cute, she thinks, how he can be this nervous on their first date after so boldly proclaiming his undying love for her.
A warm breeze kicks in, stirring her silver hair and the folds of her gown, ruffling his short wavy hair as well. Deirdre has always found the breezes exciting, perhaps a product of growing up in the stuffy Spirit Forest. Sometimes she does miss it, especially her dear grandmother, but after venturing outside and meeting Sigurd she knows she can never return.
His hand moves upwards to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face, then to caress her cheek. His gaze is warm, and she can't believe she almost let her fear keep her from this man. A man willing to risk anything just to stay by her side.
Deirdre smiles, laying her hand atop his, and their lips meet softly. Every kiss is a honeyed, dizzying explosion of warmth, she can never tire of such a feeling. His arms wrap tightly around her, and she all but melts.
True love doesn't only exist in fairytales after all.