Plodding absently through the marketplace, the elf ignored the curious stares of dragons, subdued whispers of other elves, and finger pointing of humans and androids brought about by his disturbingly conspicuous melancholy. He leaned against one of the giant marble pillars of the marketplace dome, allowing his attention to drift in and out upon the shoppers and passers by. They were the usual colorful array of people: residents of Lusea, merchants from the Republic and Daina, and tourists and entertainers from all five nations, haggling over the prices of necessities, trifles, and trinkets. The sameness of it all had become agony to him, the same activities, the same life day in and day out, each day as the one before, ad nauseum.

Every day, the same as yesterday. With a predictable chaos in between, century upon century, the same in the Republic, and all the Five Nations since time immemorial.

I used to enjoy it, and now I grieve it, the elf thought to himself, the same unchanging people, the same unchanging cycle of events. I'm so terribly old to have seen it all.

He pushed himself away from the pillar and resumed his blind walk through the crowds in the market, oblivious to the passage of time, the insipid noises of commerce, and the smells of various dishes that failed to stimulate.

He removed an apple from his hip satchel. Though not at all hungry, he needed something to nurse, something that would numb his accosting sadness. He took a bite out of it, but his dismal mood robbed the red fruit of its savor. Still, he continued one tasteless bite after another, down to the core, which he held level with his eyes.

Like so often before, he felt like that core: alone, exposed, empty.

My kinsmen, my family, he thought, fighting back the inevitable tears, I should have left with you … escaped from this world, but I chose to stay behind. Where is your prophecy now, elders? Now I wish that I could have …

"Hey! My purse! Stop! Thief!" A voice rang out from the din of shoppers.

At the sound, the elf's awareness snapped instantly back to the now. He detected the telltale electronic resonance in the android's feminine voice. Sight targeted its source: the open-air flower shop immediately to his right … and the absolute perfect moment. Caught within his field of vision were both thief and victim.

The human that first bolted out of the flower shop, blue leather purse in hand, was a boy in a gray coat and blue pants: slight of stature -possibly a teenager.




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