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“Do you see that woman over there?” Arrow asked. Mika raised his eyebrow and nodded.
“Of course I see that woman over there,” he said. Arrow smirked in a mischievous manner, one that Mika knew only meant trouble.
“I’m going to marry her.” Mika scoffed.
“Assuming she’ll even spend the night with you,” he chuckled, “you smell like shit.” Arrow frowned and continued to ogle the woman.
“I bathed a fortnight ago- I’ll be fine.” Mika laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“This is why I pull the women and you don’t,” he said, “you need to bathe. You’re smellier than Vancha.” Arrow shook his head vigorously.
“Don’t you ever say that to me. Ever.”
“Don’t smell like a swamp then.”
Arrow watched as the beautiful redhead wove her flower crown for the mayday festival. He was a romantic at heart, really- none of the ladies ever gave him a chance because of his height, but he also had a sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t bathe too often either.
“What’s your plan then, big guy?” Mika asked. “You bathe, shower yourself in perfume, and charm her with your inability to talk to intimidating women?” Arrow turned beet red in embarrassment. “Or, will you fight the young man that is trying to woo her-“ Arrow’s face fell, “unsuccessfully, might I add,” Mika added quickly. Arrow regained a small bit of hope, but it was tiny.
“When you put it like that,” he muttered. Mika shook his head and tutted.
“Give your balls a tug,” Mika suggested. “Go bathe and use soap. Change your clothes. Come back to me.” Arrow nodded and looked at the woman longingly.
“Thank you,” he said softly. Mika smiled and nodded.
“Go get yourself ready. I’ll keep her busy.”
Arrow should have known. He really should have. The water ran over his shoulders, and he let out a sigh. The woman was so beautiful, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen before. He had lived for one hundred years, and never in his life had he seen such a beautiful woman. The way she smiled, the way she laughed- she held him in the palm of her hand before he knew her name. Her fingers pulled on his heartstrings as she wove her flower crown, and it was at the moment that he knew.
The way her eyes sparkled like the morning dew would be forever etched on his brain, even if they never ended up together.
“No,” Arrow said aloud. “I can’t be doing this.”
He was a vampire, and nearly completed his training to be a General too. He needed to finish it, and thoughts of women wouldn’t help him. He only had to go through the trials one more time, and go through a few more trainings. Arrow fought hard and strove hard, but this was different.
Mika was talented, flawless. He knew how to court women, what to say, and he got all of the women he wanted. He had everything handed to him on a silver platter. The bastard son of a nobleman, legitimized as an heir to an estate larger than Arrow could even begin to fathom. He escaped nobility; not because of the expectations, but because of how they treated him. Vampirism suited Mika, in a messed up convoluted sort of way.
“I wonder how he’s doing up there,” Arrow mused, “hope he’s not getting into trouble.”
“Your eyes sparkle like the Rhône, my dear,” he told her. The woman scoffed.
“I have better things to do than to talk to an empty-headed man like you,” she said. Mika smiled. She was fiery. It suited her red hair.
“Come on, Sarah,” he said, “you’re beautiful. Let yourself know that.” Sarah shook her head and blushed nearly as deep as her hair was red.
“I’ve got more flowers to weave for the mayday festivities,” she said, “you could join me or help the men.” Mika smirked.
“I do generally prefer the company of women, you know,” he said, “especially women like you.”
“And what does that mean?” Sarah asked. Mika paused, and let out a small chuckle. “You’re speechless,” she commented. Mika nodded and shook his head.
“You’ve beaten me, milady,” Mika admitted. “I’m not so easily beaten. Perhaps I owe you a glass of wine.” Sarah scoffed.
“I don’t drink,” she said, “it muddles the mind and bewitches the soul.” Mika smirked.
“Then perhaps you are the strongest mead I’ve ever encountered,” Mika mused. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ears. “You’re an enigma, Miss-“
“-Rowe,” Arrow said, “her last name is Rowe.” Sarah frowned.
“And whose last name is that? It is not the last name of this lady,” she said jokingly.
“It’s mine,” he said. Sarah raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” She asked. Arrow nodded. She turned to face Arrow, giving Mika the chance to give him an encouraging thumbs up.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?” Arrow asked plainly. Sarah opened her mouth, closed it, and laughed softly.
“No,” she said, “not quite like that.” Arrow cleared his throat.
“Forgive me, miss, but I am remiss in this. What is your name?” She smiled again.
“Sarah,” she said, “and what is yours?”
“Alexander,” he said, “but you can call me Arrow.”
“I like that,” she said, “Arrow.”
“Sarah,” he repeated dumbly. Mika clapped his hands together, startling both.
“I will go and get us alcohol, save for Lady Rowe,” Mika commented, “since she does not drink.” Arrow nodded.
“I do not like it,” she said.
“That is alright,” Arrow said, “not everyone does.” Sarah smiled softly.
“Your friend is popular with the ladies,” she commented, changing the subject. Arrow cleared his throat and sat down across from her.
“He generally is,” Arrow responded, glancing over his back. Mika had a brunette and a redhead fawning over him. He was telling his stories of France, no doubt. He’d heard then hundreds of times.
“And you are not?” Sarah asked. Her freckles seemed to dance in the sun, and her green eyes lit up with the brilliance of a thousand stars.
“Not generally, no,” he admitted. Sarah frowned.
“I don’t understand how,” she said. Arrow blushed. “Perhaps the ladies do not want to have intelligent conversations with good-looking men.” Arrow blushed even deeper, but he didn’t have any hair to hide his embarrassment.
“Thank you, my lady,” Arrow managed to get out. Sarah smiled and grabbed his hand- a bold move.
“Call me Lady Rowe.”