This was all that the elf needed to know to begin his spell.
The android that dropped her bouquet and gave chase was slightly taller than the human. Athletically built, the most prominent features that the elf glimpsed before she vanished into the confusion were her odd, yet attractive ringlets of green hair, and her almost-white skin. She wore a short-sleeved blue denim jacket, cut open at the shoulders, over a form-fitting blouse that squeezed over the waistline of a loose, black dress.
It was strange how sudden events could change one's mood, the elf thought, after an inexplicable wave of compassion at last overrode his oppressive sadness.
***
Nalsa district, across the river, Number 4 Windhill Apartments, he repeated like a mantra as he pushed his way through the crowds. In human cities it was unusual for a something as petty as purse-snatching to be the subject of intense gossip amongst the marketplace goers, but elven cities like Lusea were known for their tranquility and near-nonexistent crime. The clerk at the flower shop, an elf maiden who knew him, had given him the android's address from her records after his promise to deliver the flowers she had dropped. Her home was not far away, yet he hoped that he could meet her beforehand and offer his help.
He was in luck.
He had become aware of her crying above the white noise of the thinning crowds as he reached the marketplace edge. Her electronic voice made her cries sound somewhat peculiar, but no less plaintive or miserable.
The elf pressed on through the final throngs of shoppers, and followed the sound at last to a lone figure sitting on the steps of a shop just beyond the pillars of the marketplace atrium. Her face was buried in her hands, and so she did not notice him until he came to her side and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
"By the Divine …!" the elf gasped, eyes widening at the sight of her.
She was beautiful!
Though her amber-colored doe eyes were bloodshot and red, her tear-streaked face, like all androids', was devoid of any physical blemish. If it could be said to be an imperfection at all, there was only a tiny mole set below and to the right of her deep-bronzed red lips. A black leather choker was clasped around her neck, from which hung a gold-encrusted amethyst. He had not noticed it before, but her black, cotton blouse was bound at the waist by a scarlet sash, separating it from her black skirt, made of the same material as her blouse.