• Sabrielle was flabbergasted.
    “Did you say... A half-elf?!” she managed to cough out. “You’re kidding... Right?”
    Osmund gazed at her, feeling the anxiety in the air. “He’s telling you the truth, I’m afraid... Vyktor is indeed a half-elf. Elves do exist... I know it must be difficult for you to swallow this, I apologize.”
    She refused to believe his confirmation. “That’s impossible... There’s no way...”
    Vyktor began to speak, but Osmund silenced him with a swift hand gesture. “Show her...”
    Osmund commanded softly. Vyktor nodded.
    At first, Sabrielle did absolutely nothing, as if the sight before her had not shaken her at all. Shortly after she absorbed the spectacle, however, she understood.
    Vyktor had pulled his coal black hair from his face, then further yet, revealing his ears. They were the same deep tone as his face, but with a rosy tint, and genuinely normal, with the exception of how obviously pointed the ends were. Instead of the usual human-like shape, his half-elven ears stretched to the sky, an overwhelming 5 inches longer than the routine human size. Countless various piercings clung to them, creating the illusion that they were even more mythical than they seemed. Sabrielle gasped.
    “Do you believe me now?” Vyktor inquired, hoping for a reassuring nod.
    He was disappointed for Sabrielle continued to deny their claims. “It is possible to be born with unusual features... That doesn’t necessarily prove to me that you’re a...” She gulped, fumbling for the word, “half-elf...”
    The two men sighed in unison, Osmund’s was more angry than Vyktor’s discouraged one. “Let me show you something more significant...” Vyktor proposed. She gasped as he pulled his shirt over his head. She stared at his godly physique, his perfection unintentionally distracting.
    “Do you understand now?” he asked, growing more confident due to her awestruck expression. She failed to hear his question, still gawking at his flawless torso, shaking her head in attempt to bring herself back to reality. Vyktor perceived this motion as a ‘no’ rather than her actual reason; he frowned and his brow furrowed in defeat.
    “I don’t know what to do,” Vyktor admitted. Sabrielle instantaneously rejoined the conversation, “Vyktor,” she breathed, “your... Your wound... It’s gone.”
    “Ah.” Osmund smiled triumphantly.
    She shivered, the thought of Vyktor’s bare chest burned within her mind. “Elves are known for their incredible healing power, both their medical knowledge and their natural rate of recovery, as Vyktor had just demonstrated,” Osmund replied.
    “It was so deep... I know I saw it... Blood was everywhere... There’s no way that it healed up that... Fast...” Sabrielle muttered with increasing faith. “So... You’re trying to tell me that you’re an elf...”
    “A half-elf,” Vyktor corrected smugly, confident that she was beginning to comprehend both his and Osmund’s information. “It’s really not all that rare, I’m just deficient when it comes to keeping secrets...”
    Her sparkling plum eyes bore into his. “Alright... I get it... So, I assume that the Terra want you dead because of your race,” she said, mostly as an inquiry.
    “Actually, it’s not that at all...” he smiled as he spoke, “They want me dead for various reasons, but the most pressing one is that I stole something from them...”
    Osmund chimed in after being silent for so long, “Vyktor, enough... I’m glad Sabrielle reminded us of our plight, the Terra are still on our heels... We have to find somewhere to hide.”
    “Oh, you ruin the fun, old man...” Vyktor growled, teasing.