magic shop
there was a magic shop deep within the backwoods of tiny dreams, veiled with white-lace secrets––but the seamstress preferred to stitch, with needle, thread, and pieces of his heart, things befitting fairytales. he was lulled towards it, having been intertwined with another through tangled fate strings and shy murmurs.
and, well, tiên had his own mechanics of secrecy anyhow. not to mention the aura around the shop bustled in roseate tinges and half-fairy natures: not quite magical, though certainly otherworldly.
such was how they "met," as you cannot count the dreamland in which they were one, his own numen a little like reflected moonshine... and so sweet, wading through the summer dream with his trousers rolled all the way up.