The white silk ribbon lied in the palm of his hand, it was very much the same one she wore that night. However he could not be too sure as Cana, of all people, had given him the ribbon so there was a possibility of it being fake. Azvameth stared at the ribbon for about a minute before turning his gaze to Cana, "Is this actually it?" He questioned, still not convinced- well he was somewhat convinced but he did not want to be disappointed by one of Cana's lies. "Are you implying that I would give something fake? I thought you had a little more faith in me" Cana replied, placing her hand on her hip. Azvameth rolled his eyes at her reply, glancing at the ribbon again. "Very much and who said I had faith in you?" He added, Cana clicked her tongue and glanced at the ribbon in his hands. "Why do you want to find this dancer anyway?" Questioned Cana, gesturing to the ribbon. He closed his hand, feeling the texture of the ribbon again his rough hand. "I don't want to find her mind you, Im simply curious." Azvameth declared coldly, turning his back to her and walking away. He did not even have to look at her to know that she rolled her eyes and that the smirk crept onto her lips. As much as he hated to to admit it, he knew her far too well. Reaching the doors, he glanced at the man that had entered with Cana. If he could remember correctly, his name was Dilan. But he couldn't care less.
Exiting the greenhouse, he was met with rain. He looked up at the sky and groaned in frustration. How could he forget?, he mentally slapped himself and walked-- despite knowing he would get soaked from the rain and sick. As he walked through the cobblestone path, his boots hitting the surfaces of the small puddles that were made. His coat hanging on his shoulders, bouncing ever so slightly with each movement he made. Although it beginning to become wet, maybe soaked withe after if he did not hurry inside. Perhaps he will have to use a spell to dry himself, if it's not too big ofcourse.
Azvameth power was indeed powerful, Although with his power came a curse. Where he would loose control if he used too much of it at once and he would be trapped in a dream state until he is stopped. There was no known way to stop him, being the first and maybe last of his kind. Another downside to his power was that he would have to face physical injuries depending on how much power he used. So if the spell was not too grand, then he would go along with it.
Hours later, he found himself in front of the fireplace with his coat hung on a chair and his white blouse thrown aside on the floor. His black hair falling off his shoulders. The spell had worked, with a cost that is. He gained yet another injury on his arm, a deep cut that travelled from his wrist to just near his elbow, was now bandaged carefully. Although now it hurt to put more pressure onto it and to make matters worse, it was his dominant hand. He sighed, taking in the warmth from the fireplace. Seeing the wood burn slowly and the fire grow, as he observed the fire. He was somehow reminded of that night, where he had met the dancer- who long disappeared before he could get her name.
He brushed his hair out of his face with his right hand as he leaned forward. Burying his face into his hand, perhaps he did want to find her, But only to get rid of curiosity. With now start or leads on where she could be, it seemed impossible to find her. Azvameth glanced down to his left arm, gazing upon his bandaged arm. If only there was a way to stop it, then maybe he would not have to face such injuries that left scars onto his skin.
It was already nightfall and he could not fall asleep, yet he tried to anyway. Knowing he would fail to do so in the end. He didn't want to move from the chair, even if it was a bit uncomfortable, he found himself sitting there until his eyes felt heavy. Eventually falling into a deep slumber..
________________________________________
END OF CHAPTER 2
