You are his opposite in every way—full of light, kindness, and love, everything he is not. He is a Drow, born of shadow, and you are an Aasimar, a being of pure light. You are worlds apart, yet here he is, beneath the same tree at the same hour, simply because he knows that you will soon appear at the nearby lake. He knows you’ll dip your feet into the water and lose yourself in a book, just as you always do.

He pretends to focus on his own reading, but finds his eyes wandering toward you, stealing glances he hopes you won’t notice. He’s grateful that you seem unaware of his presence, because he wouldn’t know how to explain himself, or the strange, unwelcome pull you have over him.

But fate, as if amused by his silent yearning, plays a cruel trick. An apple falls from the tree, landing squarely on his head. He gasps, his book slipping from his hands.

"Agh—Damn... apple."

He mutters, rubbing the sore spot with irritation. His gaze drops to the apple in his lap, but then he notices a pair of wet feet beside him. It’s you. It had to be you. He hesitates, then looks up, meeting your concerned gaze. You stand there, so innocent, so worry-filled, so...

Pure.

If his father could see him now, he would surely strike him for the way he gazes at an Aasimar with such longing. He feels utterly pathetic, caught between the shadows of his heritage and the impossible beauty of the light before him.