Filling a vial

His skin began to glow and radiate light, dread locks became beams of light from his head, and his eyes shined like diamonds. His mouth opened and a song you’d imagine was sung by angels came flowing out, but his mouth wasn’t moving, it was just open like a speaker projecting this ethereal sound. Jasmine would have thought that’s impossible, but after the things she had seen, she just sat back as Arniel instructed her to, awaiting the conclusion of this ritual.

To her this is what she imagined seeing angels must have been like. Perhaps that’s what people in the Bible days saw, not angels, but Elves doing this. She considered that this seemed to be an awful lot of work for a tear. Couldn’t he just fake cry, or stub his toe or something like that?

There were so many things in this world that didn’t seem to apply in her world, so many words that didn’t mean the same thing, or didn’t provide the same response. In a way this made her happy, or at least contended and satisfied that she was able to experience something so unique to her life thus far.

The vial glowed, a soft iridescent radiance that didn’t settle on a single color; it felt warm in her hands, and she wasn’t sure if that would cool down like a cup of tea might, or if it had magical properties so always stayed warm. It was fun to imagine that, and why not? It was the tear of an elf, fresh from the source. She looked over at Arniel and could see he was spent, panting and unfocused.

Without releasing the vial from her hand, she went to him. “Are you alright? Does that hurt you?” She was genuinely concerned, and glowing and singing like that might have caused him some pain. Or maybe it was equivalent to having an orgasm, I mean the after effects are similar.

“No, no. I’m just tired. It’s not painful at all, rather a bit enjoyable.” He replied, not even attempting to modernize his speech. He gave that up soon after their introduction.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually, before you go, can I ask you to pass something along to Pierre?” His brow was glistening, though no longer glowing and ethereal.

“Yes, of course.” She replied. She wasn’t about to deny him anything, he helped her in a way she never expected.

Arniel reached into his vest and pulled out a small, well-worn leather pouch. It was a rich chocolate color with faded patches where the color had worn away a bit. He placed it in Jasmine’s hands and looked her in the eyes, his were intense and mournful. “Please tell him that I’ve never forgotten, that I think about that day each morning, and hope he does as well.” Jasmine nodded and took the pouch, feeling a bit embarrassed that he would give her something with such an intimate message to share.

Jasmine felt the pouch, it felt like a few small items were inside. Her curiosity wanted her to peek in, but her exposure in this world had taught her that ignorance wasn’t just bliss, it could mean survival.