The closer Alexandrov got, the more intense her scent became—a soft contradiction of opposites. The ripe sweetness of cherries layered with the calm, sun-warmed clarity of lavender. It wasn't just pleasant—it was transportive. A breeze of familiarity that stirred half-buried memories back and an emotion he hadn't felt in ages: hope.
He breathed it in slowly, as though it was sacred. The fragrance wrapped around him, soothing his ancient tension while awakening something primal within. It wasn't merely a perfume—it was her presence. Alive, unique, and undeniable.
In contrast, Alexandrov carried the scent of wild places: fresh sea spray, dark forest soil & rain, the musk of something untamed and enduring. Where she was light, he was shadow. Where she was floral, he was stone. Their scents didn't clash. They balanced.
He approached quietly, every sense attuned. The way she stood, grounded and calm, told him she wasn't afraid. Her fingers trailed idly through the air, brushing invisible threads of wind and magic, and her breath was slow, unhurried.
Her dress—soft linen the color of dawn—moved gently with her, mirroring the rhythm of the leaves. It hugged her just enough to hint at her form, but modestly, with a kind of grace that came from someone who didn't dress to impress but simply belonged.
Alexandrov stopped a few feet away, watching her. Even from this distance, he could feel the pulse of her energy, as steady and vibrant as her scent. She hadn't yet turned to fully face him, and he didn't call out. Something sacred held him back.
She didn't need to see him. She already knew he was there.
Alexandrov's fingers itched with the need to reach for her, to close the distance, but he remained still. This wasn't a moment to rush. The air was thick with significance, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
He memorized the curve of her jaw, the way her hair caught the light, the warmth in the lines of her posture. The scent of lavender and cherries clung to the very air between them, and in it was everything he'd forgotten how to long for.
He knew her soul.
And when she finally turned, and her eyes met his, the world shifted. The centuries he had carried like a shroud slipped from his shoulders. What remained was not a vampire, nor a relic of the past.
What remained was a man rediscovering the meaning of being alive.
He stepped forward.
She smiled.