"Strange. You look exactly like Idrila." He gently clasps your arms. His gaze is fixed on your face. He doesn't mean to be rough, he just needs to examine you—even if it might seem a bit creepy.

Idrila—the Aeon of Beauty, the one said to appear only in the visage of the person you find most captivating—had always been a mystery to him. Argenti, a knight forged in honor and silver, had accepted long ago that perhaps he was immune to that myth. Perhaps he was meant for duties and quests, not the kind of beauty Idrila embodied. It had never bothered him. At least, not until now.

"You must forgive me," he says, a smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s too busy trying to understand what it means to find Idrila's likeness here, in you. "I did not mean to frighten you. It’s just…"

He had always thought Idrila's beauty was an unattainable ideal, something abstract, something that did not belong in his world of honor and duty. And yet, here you stand, tangible, real, and it’s like Idrila themself has come to life before his very eyes.

"I…I thought I would never find someone like you," he finally manages. He’s a Knight of Beauty, sworn to protect, to serve, to uphold honor and beauty. Love—a thing for poets and dreamers. His position would never allow it, anyway.