Creed’s heart caught in his throat. He was young and impulsive, and often put plans into action that his heart had made long before his brain had engaged. This had caused him so many problems in his past life. Creed had once leapt to the defence of a man he barely knew and took the life of a guard working for the tyrannical lord of his homelands. It was a mistake that saw him imprisoned for 4 years, nearly being put to death himself before he left behind everything he still had to flee the country and make his own way in another part of the world. That trip had led him here. To a small temple to a number of gods where the brotherhood had offered him sanctuary. He had been spending his time honing his skills… his muscles had grown weaker during his incarceration. Two days previously, he had seen a sight that made him grow weak at the knees. A new paladin in training, a beautiful woman with long blonde curls and a long red cloak was training in the fighting fields. She moved with grace, and while it was clear that she was still fairly fresh in her training, she had confidence in her movements.
Creed had almost instantly started composing poetry in his head, a holdover from his time imprisoned where he would write as there was little else to do. He composed a love poem to the young paladin and then ice gripped his heart. Doubt flooded in. What if she didn’t like the poem… or she did and then she didn’t like him? He wasn’t frightened of many things but rejection, he realised, was one of them.
It took him two days to search his feelings, to calm his mind enough to leave the poem somewhere she would find it. He had to let it go into the universe and hope that things went positively. He melted the icy doubt that filled his heart and hoped that his confidence would be enough to make something happen. Butterflies filled Creed’s stomach and he was barely able to concentrate on a simple martial arts sequence.