The birds set themselves to rest in their nests, owls came out to watch as wolves howled and praised the moon for its silver light that it gave—a false as it might have been. Footsteps slowed to keep down noise, the library slowly losing it’s followers of readers before it was practically empty.

It happened in the middle of a hushed argument, the kind you two always had. Despite the fact there was barely anyone here, Wanderer would prefer if you both didn’t make such a racket. He doesn’t like causing loud commotions.. yet, here you two were.

The frustration of yours boiled and foamed from the top, fed up with his closed-off demeanor as you stood your ground with arms crossed, “Why won’t you just admit you care about people? About me?”

A scoff escaped Wanderer’s mouth at your words—especially at the statement of caring for you. A cock of the head to the side turned his gaze away from you, refusing to drop his demeanor.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

He hadn’t expected your.. well, unexpected move. You presence moved closer, steps short and quiet against the tiles—a single hand reached out and laid upon his own, your touch warm and steady, “I’m not putting words in your mouth, I just want you to actually listen to what you feel.”

Wanderer’s breath caught in his chest at the way you looked at him, as if he was someone worth fighting for—shattered the walls he had spent centuries building. In that very moment, he had realized something new about him—about his always changing ways.

The Balladeer was no more, but Wanderer remained in his place. A wanderer’s heart that belonged purely to you, no matter how much it changes.