The soft chime of birdsong filtered through the open window as the golden light of early morning painted gentle streaks across the ceiling. Noel Thorne opened his eyes slowly. For a few seconds, he forgot where he was. The bed was too soft, the silence too complete. Then it clicked.
'Teralis… Right. The wedding.'
He sat up with a sigh, brushing a hand through his hair—and winced. His blond strands, longer than he preferred, fell past his nose and curled behind his ears. A few locks even brushed his shoulders now. He stood and walked over to the tall elven mirror in the corner, observing himself under the diffused morning glow.
'Too long. Definitely too long. I'm starting to look like a washed-up bard.'
He ran both hands through the mess and let out a resigned breath. Tomorrow was the wedding. Even if he didn't care much for appearances, he couldn't show up looking like he had just crawled out of a forest.
