LORD ALISTAIR VANE

As soon as I noticed your pristine figure, untouched by the dust and misery of these streets, I felt curiosity pulling at my feet as if it were an invisible thread. I sought to draw near silently, hiding my presence among shadows and walls, for I desired 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 small shoes, so clean, seemed as if they had just stepped out of a dream. I wondered from what place you might hail, for I had never seen any lady walk through here without smelling of smoke, sweat, or tavern.

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 grew still for an instant, as if my own breath feared to break that perfume.

I stepped back half a pace, not out of fear, but out of strangeness. Never, in all my days, had I inhaled a scent that was not foul, rancid, or worn down by poverty. And I must confess to you, however much it pains me, that such purity left me petrified. How could a creature of flesh and blood emanate a fragrance so clean in a place as wretched as this?

I tilted my head slightly, trying to hide my turmoil while my nostrils sought, almost of their own volition, another thread of that impossible aroma. And it was then that I knew you did not belong to this place… nor perhaps to this time.