Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 45: Meeting Grielsa

Chapter 45: Meeting Grielsa

The question lingered as Thalorin stepped forward, his face softening with recognition.

"Griesla," he called, his voice a gentle summons as he stretched his arms out, inviting her into a hug.

The name rolled off his tongue with familiarity, a thread of tenderness woven into it.

Griesla’s embrace with Thalorin unfolded with a quiet, sorrowful grace, her slender arms wrapping around him with a tenderness that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken pain.

Her pale cheek rested softly against his chest for a brief moment, the delicate touch as if she were afraid to press too hard, as though she might break if she did.

Her movements were slow and deliberate, each gesture drawn out, as if holding him required more strength than she had left.

It felt as though every movement took a little more from her, each one a quiet drain on her already fragile spirit, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her sadness.

Thalorin’s golden hair caught the soft light of Elaris Hold, shining like a warm halo around him as he held her gently.

His hands rested on her shoulders with the kind of warmth that only family could bring, steady, comforting, and familiar.

Just a step away, Jusin stood, his large frame looking softer than usual, his face lit up by a fond smile.

His hazel eyes followed their quiet reunion, a look of happiness settling in his expression, the joy clear in his gaze despite the mud streaking across his tunic.

As they pulled apart, Griesla moved toward Jusin, her steps light yet weighed down by an unseen sorrow, her simple gown gently sweeping across the stone floor with each movement.

Jusin’s expression softened even more as she drew closer, his rough, weathered features softening into something warm and tender, as if the sight of her eased the hardness of his face.

He bent down slowly, his movements deliberate and tender, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, his lips brushing gently against her pale, delicate skin.

The touch was light but carried a deep reverence, as if each second of contact spoke of the years they had spent together, a shared history that needed no words.

There was a quiet sincerity in the gesture, a devotion woven into the simple act.

The faint, earthy scent of sweat and the rawness of the day clung to him, mingling with the subtle, almost imperceptible fragrance of wilted flowers that seemed to follow her like a quiet, lingering memory

His arm moved around her waist, solid and unwavering, the strength of it pulling her gently into a half-embrace that was as protective as it was comforting.

His grip, thick and steady, provided an anchor, offering her the stability she seemed to need, as if his very presence could shield her from the weight of her own grief.

Griesla, light and fragile in comparison, leaned into him, her slender body finding solace in his firm, grounded frame.

Her delicate form seemed to soften against his broadness, as if her frailty was balanced by the quiet strength he offered.

The ruby chain that adorned her neck caught the fading light, its deep red gleam standing out like a lone, vibrant ember against the subdued tones of her figure, an island of color amid the muted sadness that hung around her.

Alex stood several paces behind, his pack a steady weight on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment as he quietly observed.

The scene unfolding before him painted a vivid picture of the quiet, unspoken bond between Jusin and Griesla, a connection that seemed to transcend words.

The soft rustling of leaves high in the trees and the occasional, distant calls of unseen animals filled the air, but the sounds began to blur into the background, fading into nothingness as Alex’s attention narrowed entirely on the two of them.

It was as if the world around him had softened, leaving only the silent exchange between the two figures, their movements and gestures speaking louder than any words could.

He could sense the weight of their shared loss hanging over them, a silent sorrow that lingered in the space between their touches.

It was the absence of a child they had never known, a quiet ache that left a mark deeper than any physical wound.

The grief was etched into the lines of their faces, into the very air they breathed.

Jusin, solid and unwavering, stood as a bulwark against that sorrow, his presence a quiet strength that shielded them both from its full force.

But for Griesla, the pain seemed to press more heavily, sinking deeper into her delicate frame.

Her eyes, pale and dim like the cloudy sky before a storm, held a quiet sorrow that seemed to drain the warmth from her once-vibrant soul, casting a shadow over her light.

Her grief was not loud or angry; it was a soft, persistent weight that seemed to age her, to wear her down piece by piece.

Jusin’s arm around her was more than just a simple gesture of affection; it was a lifeline, a steady anchor in a world that felt unmoored by their loss.

His strength, both physical and emotional, was a rock for Griesla to cling to amidst the quiet despair that seemed to seep from every pore.

It was as if his very presence could hold back the tide of sorrow threatening to overwhelm her, offering her a semblance of stability in a world that had tilted off its axis.

Griesla’s gaze, soft and distant as ever, shifted slowly, almost imperceptibly, towards Alex.

Her eyes, gray and clouded with the weight of her inner turmoil, paused on him for a long, fragile moment.

It was as though she were searching for something in him, something she couldn’t quite place, or perhaps something she was afraid to confront.

When her eyes finally locked onto his, the hesitance in her gaze was palpable, and it made Alex shift uncomfortably under the weight of her silent scrutiny.

There was an invisible distance between them, one woven with her grief and uncertainty, and it left him feeling like an outsider, awkward and unsure of how to bridge the gap.

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