A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry for all my lack of activity lately, truly, but I've been drowning in WIPs and exams these last few months. I know this isn't an update on any of my multi-chaptered fics but a little two-shot I've been meaning to write for a while now, completed and posted in time for the holidays. Sorry this one isn't very christmassy, but I hope it still counts. Merry Christmas and enjoy! =)

Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Vesperia or Hijo de La Luna (1991), for they respectively belong to Namco Bandai and Mecano.

The night had fallen long ago when Flynn lifted his gaze. Exhausted, he slumped against the nearest tree to rest his sore feet. They hurt from walking and walking for countless hours, back and forth and seemingly heading nowhere.

"I'm lost."

He had somehow managed to convince himself of the opposite for the past couple hours – that might as well have been half a day, or two, or three – but there was only so much Flynn could hope for and it was high time to admit his defeat. He wasn't one to give up easily, but his endurance was wearing thin. The morning of his departure felt like a far away memory now, as unreachable as the stars shimmering high above.

He leaned his head against the tree, closed his eyes and absently run his fingers through the soft grass while waiting for sleep to overcome him. His limbs felt heavy from hiking endlessly. The instincts of a well-trained soldier rang bells in his mind, begging him to stay awake – when night falls in the woods, one had better stay on his guard. But Flynn's eyelids were so, so heavy. Sleep left no room in his drowsy mind for vigilance, and he would rather give in to the tempting darkness than bother staying awake.

Silence settled in the forest. Wind occasionally howled quietly. An owl flapped its wings and took off into the night.

But then – a whisper. It was low and quiet, but had not gone unheard by Flynn. Through the gentle embrace of slumber, his senses slowly woke again as another whisper ushered through the trees. And another. Straining to listen, Flynn couldn't make out anything else than unclear murmuring and yet, it was as though it tugged at his very being. Whether he stood from curiosity or by someone else's will, he couldn't fathom, but his feet traced a path through the woods again all the same.

Following the whispers, as subtle and quiet as flowing water, he was uncontrollably pulled forward, farther and farther away. Flynn's thoughts were a mess of fear and excitement. His body moved on its own, but the whispering sounded appeasing rather than harmful. It led him through damp pathways and coppice, up and down and left and right, until his steps were finally forced to an abrupt halt.

Flynn was aghast. He standing at the border of a large, empty clearing, and at the center, a person was kneeling in the grass. Their silhouette was slender and still, while dark hair spilled on their back, head facing the sky. Flynn noticed their lips moved with the slightest motions, and whispers resounded clear and soft again like a long-forgotten melody. It seemed not even the wind dared to interrupt the flow of quiet words. The entire clearing was bathed in the moon's silvery light, shining brighter as the mystery person whispered, on and on, as though they were having a private conversation. Oddly enough, Flynn was ready to bet they were.

Suddenly the whispering ceased, and he could have sworn he'd caught the glimpse of a tear glistening before the fascinating person slowly turned to face him. Flynn's heart skipped a beat. He might have been left speechless before, but now it was as if his mind had gone completely blank, leaving him astounded and helpless.

The person's face – which was definitely that of a man, Flynn realized – was nothing like he had ever witnessed before. Skin as pale as the moon shinining above was framed by long, dark strands. The wind ran through silken hair that reminded him of the night sky, and Flynn couldn't find it in him to tear his gaze away from the stranger's coal eyes. Entire constellations seemed to reflect in them, sparkles of something ethereal that trapped his very soul.

For a moment Flynn wondered if he was dreaming. Such a creature – person – couldn't possibly exist outisde of his hazy imagination. And yet, as much as he longed to pinch himself and verify, his body remained unmoving and his eyes remained stuck on the unworldly appearance with the obscure gaze.

And then, out of the blue, the stranger smiled. His features softened and a quiet chuckle escaped those surreally pale lips, a brief sound that flew through the air and pulled Flynn out of his awestruck trance. Finally, life inched back into his numbed limbs. Unsure what to do, he looked back to the intriguing man, whose smile had turned into a smirk.

Flynn needed a second to gather his thoughts and realize he was expected to react. Hesitantly he smiled back, mute and awkward. The stranger's grin broadened, and so did the world.

"Hey, I'm Yuri. And you are…?"