Seeing Myra’s distress and sensing the stifling atmosphere within the dimly lit shop, Freya offered a change of scenery. “Perhaps… perhaps you would feel better outside, Myra,” she suggested gently, her voice calm and soothing. “The night air is mild, and the stars are quite clear tonight. Sometimes, a different perspective can… ease a troubled heart.”
Without waiting for a response, Freya softly took Myra’s hand, her touch cool and steady against Myra’s trembling one. She led her out of the antique shop and into the tranquil stillness of the night. The air was indeed soft and carried the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine from a nearby vine. Freya guided Myra to a small, weathered bench tucked away in a slightly overgrown corner of the shop’s grounds, a pce shrouded in shadows but open to the vast expanse of the starlit sky. She sat beside Myra, her presence a quiet anchor in the midst of the younger woman’s emotional storm.
Seated beside Freya under the vast, silent expanse of the night sky, the cool air a gentle balm against her tear-streaked face, Myra finally found a moment of retive calm amidst the emotional turmoil. Turning to Freya, her voice still a little shaky, she asked, the question carrying a vulnerability that id bare her burgeoning feelings and her need for reassurance, “Freya… what do you… what do you think of me?”
Freya turned to Myra, her crimson eyes reflecting the soft, distant light of the stars. She considered the question carefully, a thoughtful silence stretching between them before she spoke, her voice gentle and deliberate.
“Myra,” she began, her gaze unwavering but kind, “when I first encountered you, you were… determined. Fierce in your love for your grandmother, willing to bargain with a creature you barely understood. I saw a strength in you, a resilience that belied your mortal fragility.”
She paused, her gaze softening slightly. “As we have spent time together, I have come to see other facets of you. A deep well of empathy, a genuine kindness that extends even to one such as I. You are curious, Myra, open to things beyond the ordinary, and surprisingly brave, even in the face of fear.”
Freya’s hand, resting on the bench beside her, instinctively moved, her cool fingers gently brushing against Myra’s. “You are also… persistent,” she added, a faint, tender smile gracing her lips. “You don’t easily let go of what you care about. And you possess a light, Myra, a warmth that seems to touch even the darkest corners.” Her words were carefully chosen, honest and delivered with a gentle sincerity that resonated deeply in the quiet night.
As Freya’s gentle words filled the night air, describing her strength, kindness, and persistence, a subtle wave of disappointment washed over Myra. While she appreciated Freya’s thoughtful observations, they felt… distant. Admiring qualities, perhaps, the way one might appreciate a beautiful flower or a sturdy tree, but not quite the fervent, all-consuming love she had begun to recognize within herself.
Her earlier articution of love, the messy, vulnerable, and deeply connected feeling she had tried to expin to Gareth, echoed in her mind. Freya’s words, though kind, cked that raw emotional depth, that sense of profound understanding and yearning that now defined her own understanding of love. It felt as though Freya was describing an interesting acquaintance, not someone who stirred the very depths of her being.
Yet, in the quiet stillness of the night, a realization dawned within Myra, clear and undeniable. Even before she had so eloquently defined love to Gareth, even from their very first, tense encounter in the antique shop, there had been something about Freya that had captivated her. It wasn't just curiosity about the supernatural or pity for her loneliness. It was an intrinsic pull, an undeniable connection to the enigmatic being before her.
Looking back, she could trace the subtle signs – the quickening of her pulse in Freya’s presence, the inexplicable draw that kept bringing her back to the dusty shop, the genuine concern she felt for Freya’s well-being, even to the point of enduring the burning sunlight. These weren’t just fleeting fascinations; they were the undeniable stirrings of something deeper, something that had been quietly growing within her, now blossoming into what she recognized as love.
The conversation with Gareth had served as a catalyst, forcing her to confront and articute her own understanding of love. And in doing so, she had inadvertently crified the true nature of her feelings for Freya. It wasn't just admiration or concern; it was love, in all its messy, complicated, and undeniable glory. She loved Freya, the ancient vampire who had pierced through her ordinary life and awakened a passion she never knew she possessed.
Now, sitting beside Freya under the watchful eyes of the stars, Myra understood that while Freya’s perception of her was kind, it didn't yet reflect the profound depth of the emotions that now consumed her own heart. And a silent resolve formed within her: she needed Freya to see her, truly see her, not just for her qualities, but for the love that had unexpectedly taken root and blossomed in her soul.
