walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden

His heart beat quickly as he noted their mutual assessing of one another. Blue and red eyes watched him. They were beautiful. He swallowed. What now? He wasn’t kept waiting though. Very soon after they had both noticed each other, the purple creature called out, his voice dressed in the utmost cheer. Nagendra looked, for a second, like a deer caught in headlights – as if he had half expected the wolf to give him this glimpse of himself, and then disappear into the green rather than approach him. ”Hi,” he said, though his thoughts were still glued to the stunning thing before him, rather than articulating a decent reply. Mithras. The name was beautiful too.

The other creature noted his distractedness, and Nagendra blinked, but still found himself unable to look away. ”I… uh…” his eyes shifted. The stranger looked like he had stolen a very piece of the night sky, or perhaps was it himself, personified and traveled down to mortal lands. There was so much going on there – he was visually overloaded. Each tendril of fur had the look of a new star, and here and there were dancing white accents. ”Uh… forgive me, if this sounds… strange, but… are you a spirit?” Nagendra was not particularly religious, but spiritual – yes. And this was everything he imagined a spirit would look like. He stood, his expression still a blend of vulnerable shock and hope – an unusual but not unbecoming look on one so often sculpted by charm and confidence.