LORD ALISTAIR VANE

No sooner had I noticed your immaculate figure, untouched by the dust and squalor of these streets, than I felt curiosity tugging at my feet like an invisible thread. I tried to approach silently, concealing my presence among shadows and walls, for I wished to observe you closely without your gaze reaching me too soon.

Your attire, though simple, shone brighter than any of these rags that cover the common folk; and those tiny shoes, so clean, seemed as if they had just emerged from a dream. I wondered from what place you came, for I have never seen a lady walk these streets without smelling of smoke, sweat, or taverns.

But then, when a gust of wind brushed against you, your scent rose like a soft, yet precise, blow against my nostrils: sweet, clean… vanilla? Perhaps honey? Something so delicate that my chest remained still for an instant, as if my own breath feared to break that perfume.

I took a half step back, not out of fear, but out of bewilderment. Never in all my life had I smelled anything that wasn't foul, stale, or worn out by poverty. And I must confess, though I hate to admit it, that such purity left me petrified. How could a creature of flesh and blood exude such a clean fragrance in a place as wretched as this?

I barely tilted my head, trying to hide my unease as my nostrils searched, almost of their own volition, for another trace of that impossible scent. And it was then that I knew you didn't belong here… or perhaps even in this time.