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Agates roll away beneath her booted feet, tumbling down the hill she climbs and pattering like rain all the way. One wrong move and her ankle would twist like the thorny vines (rosy and bright) that surround her chosen path; she carries on, ever upward, anyway.
The peak she seeks lay just ahead, distanced from the city lights and tourist vistas, away from the hubbub of song and dance and beauty. It is its own form of beauty, she thinks as she climbs, in the very way that it was made by the same forces as the stars above: cosmic calamity resulting in glorious and beautiful creation. If Idrila could see the sights, hear the sounds, or even feel the emotions of the day today, she is certain that THEY would be pleased.
Shaking her head, refocusing on the task at hand, she clears her wandering thoughts and finally lands one hand on the precipice. The large, regal agate gives way.
A shout starts, but never finishes. Vocalization cut off by the hand that jumps to grab her own, wrist caught by a strength she does not recognize.
"I have got you! There is no reason to be afraid."
The stranger takes a moment, letting her dangle a little bit uselessly as she nearly gapes back up at him and his ridiculously beautiful hair, to really look at her.
"Ah, a lady. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Argenti, a Knight of Beauty."
He hauls her up so swiftly, so carefully in tender caution so as not to hurt her any further, that she stumbles irregardless, nearly tumbling flush into his armor. If he notices her blunder, he makes no comment on it, only lending her his strong arm to steady herself. Taking her lack of speech as his cue, evidently, the Knight continues as if to reassure her nerves.
"I, Argenti, hereby do swear that no harm will befall you in my presence. Please, allow me to escort you to safety."
Blinking, still a bit dazed by the gilded light this man she has met seems to exude, she suddenly remembers her goal. She declines his offer.
Thanking him for his assistance, quite profusely because he really had just saved her life (or at least her ankles and pride), she briefly explains the relics that she seeks as a way to explain her intended departure. Argenti, ever the expert conversationalist, listens attentively, eyes sparkling with his genuine enthusiasm for her interests and the passion she displays about them (Beautiful, he tells her). He waits for her to tell him as much as she can, and then promptly requests a duel.
"I- what?"
"I must be certain that you are unharmed before your journey continues; let us do battle to display your might! Idrila will guide our glorious clashing of blades, an endeavor most befitting of Beauty!"
With that, he stands idle, poised and waiting for her to make the first move by accepting his challenge. Not seeing a way past him, she sighs and does what a sensible person would do: accepts, and prepares to fight.
•°🥀˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⚔️˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚🥀°•
She is not sure that being knocked back on her butt over the agate ground counts as Beautiful, but the Knight's sincerity leaves little room for argument as he once again lifts her to her feet. Plucked out from the brambly roses and rocks, she dusts herself off under his gaze, admitting defeat. His offer to escort her stands.
"Alright, Mr. Argenti, let's go."