Golden eyes stared at burning flesh.

Sunlight played off of perfect pale skin as Ais Wallenstein thoroughly examined the back of her hand. There were no flames, no damage, not a single flaw that clued her into what this feeling was, yet her flesh burned. Idly tracing the warm area revealed the shape of lips—the spot were Bell of Freya Familia kissed her hand. Had he coated his lips in poison?

The knight shook her head. She didn't know Bell that well—not at all, really—yet something told her he was too honorable for a low ploy like that. Besides, for an adventurer of her level and skills..? Poison was laughable. So what was this?

Shaking her tingling hand, Ais stood. Lounging in the courtyard of their home, she decided to get some distance from her familia. Little things seemed to be wrong with her familia members all day, but Ais was well-aware of her lack of social skills—she chalked it up to her misreading something. Still, the feeling wouldn't go away that something was off. Perhaps she'd go back to the wall. Unaware of the small grin that formed at the thought, she strode through the gates of Twilight Manor. Earlier in the day she had gone there—her favorite, secret spot—to find something she felt was missing. But that didn't make sense—the wall was her spot. Nobody else knew about it; nobody else came here. Yet, Goddess Hestia had found her…and made an odd request.

"Don't see Bell," she had said. Why would she? As an up-and-coming member of Freya Familia—and one with a stern reputation, at that—she couldn't see him even if she wanted to. There was too much risk of starting a conflict. Yet…

"…Bell."

Saying his name aloud as she climbed atop Orario's curtain wall, something about the name seemed right, but she couldn't place it. Something…suddenly, white and red streaks flashed through her vision along with a slash of purple light—the path of a blade streaking towards her face. Instincts kicking in, Ais drew her sword to parry the blow, but caught nothing but air. There was nothing there—she was alone. Keeping her weapon drawn as she carefully surveyed the empty stone landscape around her, Ais reluctantly sheathed her sword when nothing happened. What on earth had that been? She felt like she had been attacked, but the thought made her…

…happy?

She was smiling, she realized. It seemed so real, like a memory made flesh…but she had no memories of fighting atop the wall. Didn't she? Dwelling on the sensation, she keyed in on the familiar shades of white and red. It reminded her of a…a rabbit? Without realizing what she was doing, Ais lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged. The fingers of her still-burning hand played with the air above her lap, like she was stroking something soft and comforting. She felt so unusual. She felt…at peace. Fingers still stroking the air, Ais focused on her inner calm. Why was she here when she had every opportunity to be in the dungeon? She felt no need for that, though. The black flame was smothered, replaced by something pure, something white…the same shade of white she had seen just a moment before.

The heat in her hand intensified, coursing through her body to redden her cheeks. Was she blushing? At what, the fact that a man had kissed her hand? It wasn't that unusual an occurrence. Loki liked to plant her lips wherever she could and Tiona was affectionate enough she felt comfortable kissing her cheek, from time to time. Others, too—strangers. After the events of Monster Philia when she had saved several citizens, a few mothers she had reunited with their children had kissed her hand in thanks. Some men in taverns, too, fortified by liquid courage, had tried their luck at wooing the Sword Princess…none left an impression other than irritation.

She thought about their interaction. It had been a shock to see a prominent member of a rival familia run down the street, frantically calling her name. Still, she didn't feel threatened, despite the hackles rising on Tione and Tiona. She had taken his hand…

Silver creeped into her vision and the growing memories stewing in her mind began to dim…but Ais fought. The white flame that suppressed her rage allowed her to hold onto those feelings—she may not have a solid memory of events, but the effects on her heart could not be so easily erased. Earlier, she had taken his hand…she saw the wall; felt the need to hold him, stroke his hair while he lay in her lap…Bell had knelt, holding her hand to his forehead, crying…then he had kissed the back of her hand, rising to say how he admired her and was glad they had met. He had run away then, back towards Folkvangr. Yet, the heat remained—from his lips on her flesh and the words he spoke.

Was Bell what she was missing?

The golden knight dwelt on the thought until night began to fall, chimneys hastening the darkening sky as people warmed their houses for the night. Wood smoke twisted and curled through the air, tickling her nose as she thought about the possibility that Bell of Freya Familia may be more than he appeared. An unexpected odor twisted her nose and caused golden eyes to sharpen dangerously—the experienced veteran recognized the acrid smell of blood in the air. She vaguely registered that blood and smoke were mingled together before the world began to get a little clearer. She hadn't noticed the silver hue clouding her vision, but now it was diminishing to nothing, replaced by suppressed memories.

Bell…of Hestia Familia.

Bell…who wanted to get stronger.

Bell…the bell that saved her in Knossos.

Bell…who reconnected her to her parents; who drove her to get stronger; the pure white flame who made her heart still in peace, even as his heat made it flutter.

Blush returning at the last thought, she grit her teeth at the realization that Freya Familia was somehow responsible for taking away those memories, those precious feelings. Standing with a firm grip on Desperate, Ais glared at the silhouette of Folkvangr in the distance. The wind rose, speeding her steps and wiping away the tear that crept up in the corner of her eye.

Nobody took her rabbit away.