𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

02 ┃ 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

The sun shone brightly, a golden orb in a cloudless sky, casting warmth over the bustling marketplace.

The air was filled with the hum of activity—the laughter of children running around, their small feet kicking up dust as they giggled, weaving in and out between makeshift stalls.

Shopkeepers called out their wares, their voices blending into a melodic cacophony.

Stands made from old wood and vibrant fabrics offered fruits, spices, and handmade crafts, creating a colorful, bustling scene that felt almost like a miniature city.

Aleka moved through the crowd, her face beaming with a bright, content smile. A woven basket rested in the crook of her arm, filled with a few goods already purchased.

Her clothes were simple yet well-made, comfortable, and hand-knitted from good material—dyed in soft, earthy colors. Her long hair was pulled into a low bun, stray wisps framing her radiant face.

But what had the beautiful woman smiling most was the wide-eyed, joyful toddler clutching her hand.

"____," Aleka called gently, her voice filled with warmth as she turned to look at her child. The both of you stopped in front of a fruit stand, and she knelt down to your level, her hands reaching up to cup your soft, chubby cheeks. "What would you like, my sweet one?"

You turned your gaze from the bustling crowd to your mother, your eyes brightening as you grinned. You pointed to your favorite fruit—sweet figs, their dark skin glistening in the sunlight—your voice ringing out with excitement. "Figs!"

Aleka giggled at your enthusiasm, nodding. "Alright, my little dove," she said with a smile, rising to her feet to do the transaction with the older woman selling the fruits.

As your mother began to barter, you found your attention drifting away, your ears catching a soft, gentle sound—a melody drifting through the market.

There was something about it that pulled at you, a feeling you couldn't quite explain.

Your small hand slipped free from your mother's as you slowly wandered away, drawn by the enchanting tune.

The music led you further into the marketplace until you came upon a small crowd seated in a semi-circle around a young man who was playing an instrument—a lyre.

Your little form managed to squeeze its way to the front, giving you a close-up view of the musician.

The young man was slender, with a boyish face, his features gentle and kind. His hair was short, dark, and neatly kept, with a laurel wreath resting upon his head. His skin was tanned, sun-kissed from days spent outdoors, and his eyes were a light brown, glinting almost golden in the sunlight.