Private A Touch So Warm Time Stands Still

[Alouette D’aureville]

[art credit]​

"Where does such tenderness come from?"
Marina Tsvetaeva​

Where does such tenderness come from? These aren’t the first curls I’ve wound around my finger— I’ve kissed lips darker than yours. The sky is washed and dark (Where does such tenderness come from?) Other eyes have known and shifted away from my eyes.​

​

But I’ve never heard words like this in the night (Where does such tenderness come from?) with my head on your chest, rest. Where does this tenderness come from? And what will I do with it? Young stranger, poet, wandering through town, you and your eyelashes—longer than anyone’s. 1916​

They were a motley crew made up of a blind knight, an opinionated tiger, and three peacocking squires. The travel was far for some and not far enough for others. Each step brought them all closer to the end of the journey, but the crunch of dirt beneath heavy boots was like the sway of a metronome out of time. The overcast sky that cleared up by noon was a testament to the crown Winter passed onto Spring. There was no more snow on the ground; instead, dew lingered on the verdant tendrils of young green grass until midmorning.

"Hey, Lou, come up here with me." Syr Noa swung her head over her shoulder without worrying about losing her balance. Ne flicked his tail in agreement, pausing his step to look back at the sulking squire who was falling behind. Squire Ketyl and Squire Winnika didn't bother looking back at Lou, still too engrossed in the other to pay any attention to a Knight's floating words. Little Lou blew out a heavy sigh that had been growing thickly in her chest.

She would rather have continued to trail behind, watching and analyzing Ketyl's flirting or the different pitches of Winnika's laughter. She was happy to agonize over how perfect Winnika braided her hair, even on the windiest days, and when the braid was disarrayed with uneven twists and loose pieces of shiny, inky black, and she was still beautiful. And whenever Winnika smiled, she was not just beautiful but radiant. Tearing her green eyes from the two in front of her, Lou trudged past them, giving their tender smiles and subtle bumps into each other a wide berth. They laughed as if it were infectious, and it was only a matter of time before the other would experience a fit of giggles as well.

Noa's hand reached for her, fingertips brushing her shoulder. Lou careened herself closer to Syr Noa, not shrugging off the hand that held onto her.

"Can you see Soupe des Chiens?" Syr Noa asked. She didn't slow her pace, forcing Lou to keep up with her and the tiger by the Knight's side. If Lou tilted her head a little to the side, she could almost hear Winnika giggling at something Ketyl had said. The words were no longer clear and crisp; instead, it felt like standing in a shallow, muddy pond, unable to decipher how deep it truly was. Syr Noa forced Lou to keep her eyes straight ahead, to lead them safely along the road.

"Yes," Lou murmured. "I can see it."

"Tell me what you see."

"A windmill. A big stone castle."

"Castle? I thought there were only airship towers."

"Well, all the towers are so close together, so it looks like a castle." There was a pause. She could hear a fresh burst of laughter behind her. "And it's built into the side of the mountains."

"Uneven road ahead?" Lou squinted her eyes, following the sinuous pale trail that slowly wound its way up the hill. She shook her head.

"Not really." Lou decided. Squire Noa leaned her head back, eyes staring at nothing in particular, though there were birds and clouds and a blue, blue sky above.

"Any airships?" Lou shook her head. "You sure? I feel like I hear one." Lou looked up, mirroring the Knight. She squinted again, as if it helped her see any better. There was only a flap of wings before the swallow coasted on a cold zephyr. A small black shape, the size of a flageolet bean before being soaked in water, burst through a fluffy white cloud.

"Oh, there is one," Lou mumbled, cheeks a muddied red, ears warmed from something other than the sun. "It's up really high. You could hear it all the way up there?" Syr Noa only shrugged, giving Lou an off-center wink before ruffling the young woman's hair. Now, Lou felt worried about Syr Noa when they would actually be on the airship, crossing the ocean to a small island known as the Lily of the Sea, which grew on top of alabaster white stone. Lou wondered if wrapping her Hearth Scarf would be enough to muzzle the noise of the giant propellers she imagined airships to have.

"I can smell the salt in the air. Can you?" Lou nodded, then thought better of it, and mumbled something in agreement. "Can you see the sea?"

"Not yet," Lou admitted. "Maybe when we're on top of the hill?"

"Hill?" Noa exclaimed, raising her voice loud enough that the chatter of Ketyl and Winnika dissipated in an instant. She groaned as if she were the Squire instead of the Knight. "Ugh, I hate going uphill." Her sandals slapped unapologetically against her dusty heels. "How big is it, Lou? Don't sugarcoat it, give it to me straight."

"Uh, um, well, it's not too bad. There are some steep parts but also some flat parts and, um, uh --"

"What did you say, Lou?" Winnika's songbird sweet voice pierced cleanly through Lou's jumbled mess of words. "Not too bad? It's a frickin' huge hill!"

"Really, Winnie, frickin'?" Ketyl teased. Lou didn't have to look back at them to know that he nudged her with his broad shoulder — she could hear the clink of their pauldrons as clearly as Syr Noa had the airship. "What, too much a proper Squire to say the actual word?"

"Ketyl, you know I couldn't say such a foul thing." They went back to giggling. Lou felt a pang of jealousy in her chest and stomach.

"Ugh." Syr Noa huffed, hand leaving Lou's shoulder as her right hand moved back onto Ne's shoulder, letting him guide her instead. He growled at Syr Noa, and Lou recognized it as him telling Syr Noa to grow up. "I hate walking up hills." She moaned, her free hand stretching out before her and above her head. "It feels never-ending, and my calves hurt." Ne growled that Syr Noa needed new sandals, to stop drinking so much, and to stop eating salty snacks late at night. Lou blinked. Was that why they had run out of hard cheese and hardtack? "Yeah, yeah, you're no fun, Ne."

And just like that, Lou felt she could do nothing but eavesdrop on conversations that had no reason to include her. Slowly but surely, she was two steps behind Syr Noa and two steps ahead of tittering Ketyl and Winnika. She kept her gaze on Soupe des Chiens, finding an extra detail introducing itself with each step she took. It helped her to look forward to tonight and the warm bread to be served at the inn that Syr Noa had promised they would stay at, since they were doing this mission all on foot and without horses. If only they had brought horses, then Lou could have had someone she could relate to.

 

[Roki]

"Soupe des Chiens?" Roki repeated, as they packed up their campsite and made ready for the march northward.

"That is correct, squire," Syr Lefelen spoke flat as a butter knife left in the drawer.

"Dog Soup?" Roki asked. Hands at work with the things they put away. Bed roll packed tight. Bound. Cookpot, cleaned out with ash and water, tied to pack to keep it from jostling too much. Its round belly stuffed with those bits and bobs he was able to stuff into it. The wooden bowls. The spoons. The knives. All bundled of course, with a bit of the hemp yarn he kept handy and waxed. Lasted long that way.The rune-box in which he kept their precious butter safely tucked away. It was almost out, and he was glad to be somewhere where he might be able to find choice creme.

"An old marker of its history," Lefelen said.

"Was nothing more than an outpost, during the Dead Wave," Syr Dunnird said, her pack already unto her back. Bearded axe rest over her shoulder as she made for the wagons.

Roki's hands quick to finish up their work. Wide palms and sure fingers grasped and stuffed and pat down the bag of grains, and the water skin, down. Cinched tight the draw string. Set the shank of the antler button to tie around the slack. Tested the tension with a wobble and a pull. Sturdy enough. Slung it on.

"That old?" he asked and hurried on up. A hint of wonder swept into his breath. Eyes wide, and tusks bright in the morning light.

Syr Dunnird nod as they kept on with their steps. "Acted as point of refuge for many. A hub for supplies to be sent out via wagons and what passed as airships back then,"

Lefelen laughed as he pulled himself up unto a wagon cart. "Nothing more than wagons tied up to air bladders, if records count true," the Moon Elf said.

Dunnird smiled. "Nothing so different from what we have today then," looked to Roki. "Just a matter of size, really," offered the young man a hand. Clapped palm to wrist and hoisted him on up.

Aboard the wagons, the three knights were packed in tight.

A pair of Ellum wind catchers that had left the main train. Would catch up later down the Road, they said with sure smiles. The windsails unfurled, and the canvas billowed to life. Lines snapping with tension as the wheels creaked forward.

Onto where the Road bent toward next. Roki set down his pack in the wagon bed. Scoot in, and sat on a sack of potatoes. Settled. Fiddled with his hands. Forefinger and thumb run along the braided pattern of green shamrock yarn. Felt he would miss the friendly faces, cookfires, and lessons in yeastspeak.

The impromptu dances, and egg nabbings.

Each their own little pang of sweet hurt against his bones, in that way that was so common amongst goodbyes.

Hoped, in his heart, that Vyn and Dove would be safe, from whatever strangeness drank so freely from Vyn's blood. The ghosts and pillows. Pale as they were. That Jem, coated and pocketed bastard that he was, would do as he said. Keep them safe. Wards holding.

But the Road waited for no one, and the morning air was full of promise as the wagons rolled forward. Clouds in the sky were painted gold and pink above the canopies of green and golden. Woodland, full of stout trees, upturned roots, and ground cover, gave way to a field of wild flowers and tall blades of grass.

Soupe des Chiens, tall and painted with daylight in teh distance. Promised inns. Airships. Means to contact the Monastery and send reports without needing to use the Sight Stones. Precious tools those were.

"Why Dog Soup?" Roki asked as he stared at the stettlement, and its tall sky-docks towers.

Syr Dunnird gave a shrug. "Who knows,"

"What is a town, if not a churn of dogs?" Lefelen said with a grim smile on his face.

"They eat dogs!" the wagon driver said over their shoulder. Biggs, round cheeked and button nosed. Smile warm as a bowl of soup off the fire. Quirked a brow, looked up at the sky, as if his thought had flown up there. "Or maybe, they ate dogs,"

Remi, gaunt with dark rings under his eyes shook his head. "Imagine they ate whatever they could during the Dead Wave," he sounded.

Roki felt the breath leave him, watching an airship break through the clouds, and sail down in a line that almost seemed lazy in its approach. "Imagine so," he spoke up. "Soupe de Chiens,"

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

Ketyl and Winnika didn't stop flirting, even when they passed through the guards at the only visible entrance into Soup de Chiens. Something told Lou that being built against a mountain meant there had to be a tunnel that could bring everyone to safety in the event of an attack. Perhaps a sanctuary in the heart of the mountain, or a passage that would lead out to the beach made of crumbly agate and puddingstone. When she looked down at that unfriendly beach below, she thought maybe she saw splotches of dark red jasper. It would help make a Veyan Red if she got enough of it to mill into a fine dust and bound it to cotton with her leftover brasil and maple wood.

Lou glanced over at the red poking out beneath Ketyl's belt. He still wore the tunic she had dyed with his favorite color from his favorite fruit in the summer. She had imbued it with the quality to wick away sweat, a mixture of candelilla wax and cotton. He always hid it under a drab tunic and armor. No, that wasn't right. He should wear it underneath armor, not over it. It would be useless otherwise. She used to be content knowing that he wore it. Now it felt like bile lingering on her tongue, his secret thankfulness shallow and flimsy.

"Let's go through the list once more," Syr Noa said, cleaning out an ear with her pinky finger. "We have the dried beef, cheese, got the tack, and barley bread. Lou, how are you on your nuts and dried fruit?" Lou turned her head towards Noa.

"I think I'm fine." She mumbled. She hadn't had much of an appetite the last couple of nights, and every time she looked at Winnika in her tunic and trousers that were baggy on her, despite being smaller than the sort Lou wore, made her feel guilty when nibbling on food.

"I didn't hear you check." With a sigh, Lou pulled her rucksack off her shoulders and set it on the ledge of the stone wall. She opened it up, loudly rifling through her things with both hands and shaking everything just because. Ne rumbled a growl, telling on her. She tried not to give the tiger a look, but she could feel the downward pull of her lips and the forward push of her brows. "Lou, you getting sick?"

"No," Lou muttered, closing up her pack in defeat.

"We're going to be up in the air for a while. Sure, it's faster than going by sea, but it'll still be days. You're going to need to eat something. Lily of the Sea is on their reserves, not right for us to ask for what little food they have, even if we are purifying their soil and waters."

"We have plenty of dried meat and cheese." Ketyl interrupted. "Do we really need to waste more time at the market? I'm famished." A warm cooked meal promised at the inn was still hanging above all the squire's heads.

"Lou doesn't eat meat or cheese, Ketyl." Winnika sounded like she was scolding him, but her eyes were playful and her smile too kind. "We've been traveling together for weeks, haven't you noticed? She refused the honey bread from Granny Jennings because she doesn't eat animals or bugs." Ketyl gave Lou a strange look, the sort reserved for liars or worse — weirdos.

"Why not?" His voice was heavy like stone, unimpressed like a solid rock that had just gotten trampled over by heavy hooves and was still whole. Lou's lips were a thin, straight line. Shame did not look good on her, nor did it feel good on flaming cheeks. She wanted to say something and yet said nothing because there were too many words and too many options, and none of them felt like the correct answer before his icy blue gaze. Seconds stretched on and on, the din of the market two streets away the only sound to fill Lou's silence.

"It's her choice." Syr Noa said finally, words slicing through the silence like one of her thin blades. "Just as much as Ne's choice not to eat meat. C'mon, back to the market we go. I'm being a bad influence on you three, not forcing you to eat vegetables and fruit. Maybe we can find some pickled green beans. I've heard green things are good for squires to eat to grow big and strong. I didn't eat my greens, and look at me, haha!" Syr Noa marched off, leading them back to market with Ne as her guide.

Ketyl sighed, turned from Lou, and followed after Syr Noa. Winnika matched her step to his stride. Lou could hear Winnika teasing him about being dense and unaware of his surroundings. She heard Winnika tell him how lucky he was to have her around to observe all the things he didn't. Lou's mouth was dry when Ketyl said he never realized. She couldn't help the knot lodged in her throat when she considered his words, dragging her feet along the stone.

Walking through the market, Lou could not find the usual distractions. She didn't care about the brightly colored scarves or the pottery painted with stories and landscapes. She didn't look twice at small wooden or clay sculptures molded from wizened hands, or the sparkle of colorful beads or polished stones. Food and pickled vegetables held no interest for her, even though Syr Noa kept asking for her opinion on pickled cucumbers or cabbage, dried figs or cherries, roasted peanuts or walnuts, salted this or seasoned that.

 

[Roki]

"Salted pistachios, Always, Syr Noa." said a bright and confident voice. No doubt there in how he said it. Until there was. Not even a moment later. The sound of thought put to voice hummed in the air. "Though, the gentle nuttiness of the pistachio, is quiet wonderful on its own, I don't think anyone could deny that," Roki raised his chin, and quirked his brow, stroked the side of his jaw as he mulled. "I still think salted though," he arrived to. Set his big golden eyes on Alouette. Grin spread all easy across the span of his big head. "What do you think, Lou?"

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

With those five words 'salted pistachios, always, Syr Noa,' the sun became a little brighter and color returned to the world around Lou. Perhaps it wasn't the words at all but the voice itself. Finally, a friend. Lou's heart swelled as she looked at Roki, vibrant violet hair and glowing golden eyes and that big smile quick to show itself. She felt lighter already, assured by his grin.

"Roki!" Syr Noa crowed, shaking the bag of salted pistachios in celebration. "Look at you, already sneaking up on me." Even Ne was twitching his whiskers in delight before a big yawn and stretch. "Such a small world." The knight was quick to wrap a arm around Roki's neck, wrangling him in close to shake the pistachios close to his ear. It was quite a sight, Syr Noa looking more like she was hanging off of Roki instead of pulling him into a hug.

"Miss, please be careful with the goods." The spindly man behind the even thinner counter said. His voice was equal parts nasally and nervous. "Pistachios are quite fragile. They're not peanuts."

"Right, right, right," Noa said, tossing her head back to speak to him, eyes nowhere close to looking at him. "Pistachios are better than peanuts, got it. Lou, you want 'em salty like Roki said?" Lou shook her head.

"Actually," her voice was still timid, but this time, there was more to it. "I like peanuts better than pistachios." Green eyes flitted towards Roki. "Salted, of course," Lou added with a sheepish smile, gaze back to Roki.

"Huh, you didn't say anything earlier when I showed them to you. No shame in taking your time to think about it, though. Salted peanuts it is." Syr Noa's arm let go of Roki from the warm embrace, pivoting quickly on her heel to buy the bag of salted peanuts again. Lou hardly heard the nervous man chiding the Knight about the difference between the nuts.

"Hi Roki, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" She held her hands close to her chest, elbows bent at her side. In Syr Noa's absence, Lou filled up the space near Roki instead. "What are you doing here? Going back to the Monastery?" Lou's keen gaze observed Roki, deciding that he looked older than he had when he left. Still, the boyish wonder at seeing baby cranes was as clear as a cloudless sky in Lou's mind.

 

[Roki]

A little choked sound at Syr Noa's arm snaking about his neck. A big goofy smile wide on his face as she pulled him closer, all rattle and shake of bouncy green snacks. Dipped, woozed, and had him all straight backed about it. Though he could not help but beam at it all.

Snuck a blink hello to Ne as his mentor slacked against him.

Always did feel like he was getting away with something when Syr Noa was about. But his eyes were all on Lou, even as the Pistachio man gave his excited warning, and Lou confessed preferring peanuts. Though they shared in the love of salty. He laughed little at that.

Syr Noa loosed her hold on him, and he adjusted his collar some. Smoothed down his road worn red robes. Faded with dust, and stained with the little messes of life on the move, with not enough time to really scrub them out. But, his green bracelet shined, bright as the day Lou had first tied it on. His fingers, giving the fine threads a little tuck this way, and an adjustment that.

"It really has, hasn't it?" he said looking up at her. Smoothed his wild tuft of hair back, and stood a little straighter. "We are! Just resting here before our airship arrives," wouldn't be for another few days, if it were still on schedule. "The Syrs were just getting lodging at a place called the Calico's Catch, and I!!!!" he got up on the tips of his toes, chest puffed up in a play at importance. Fell back onto his heals. "Need to see a lait monger about some cream," he said, almost in a hush, all conspiratorial and secret as his eyes dart about. Flit back to Lou. "Want to help me find one?" his eyes squint. Impish and full of a squire's mischief.

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

Vibrant verdant green dazzled against the faded red robes; it instantly caught her emerald gaze and gave her memories of a warm day sneaking away to peek inside bird nests. Lou nodded her head, listening to Roki. She had to tilt her head up at him even more when he stood on his toes, announcing for all to hear that he required cream. Lou couldn't remember if they had passed a lait monger, but then again, she had been staring at her feet both trips into the market.

"Calico's Catch?" Lou's eyes sparkled at the good news. "We're staying there, too. They're really good about their cat policy." That was one thing she had noticed, if only because Syr Noa told her at the beginning of the journey. Calico's Catch was one of the few places that would have a giant tiger inside its walls. The Owner had vowed when he was young that he would never refuse a cat inside his tavern's walls. He had never specified how large the cat was.

The little squire glanced at Syr Noa, back still turned to them. She looked back at Roki, and, with a small, playful smile, nodded her head. Syr Noa was quite laid back. Lou wasn't sure if she should ask or sneak away with him now.

"Ketyl, look, it's Roki." Lou frowned, turning her head away from Winnika's voice. Would it be rude to run off with Roki now? She glanced at Roki, wondering if he would give Winnika the look that all the guys seemed to give her. "How funny, Keytl and I were just talking about how we can tell when you cooked something? It's like it's--"

"Roki-flavored," Ketyl said. Winnika howled with laughter. Lou made a face and looked back at Roki.

"Roki has his own flair for cooking," Lou said, voice firm. "It isn't flavored."

"How would you know? You can't eat half of what he makes. Unless you don't really have a special diet." His words came out quick and sharp. "He cooks good food. Everyone knows when Roki makes something, it has his own... y'know."

"Pizaz." Winnika said. Ketyl nodded his head.

"Yeah. Pizaz. That's the flavor."

 

[Roki]

Roki's eyes were as bright as ever upon seeing Keytl and Winnika. In that, they were the same warm gold of sunlight that seemed to invite people in.

"Yo!" he said, with pointer and middle fingers to his brow, a quick little flick and bob of the wrist, and a cast of the fingers wand over at the pair of them.

He laughed a little at the idea of things being, Roki-flavored. Felt like the sort of thing a fancy city weaver might do. Fire, now in the burn of Marimisimo til Lechant. And honestly, he couldn't help but think it had a ring to it.

Lou came up, all shield and truth.

And that caught the cooking wizard's attention. Mouth all oh in surprise. Was she... defending him? He felt his nose tickle a little at that. Smile a little wider. She thought he had his own flair. Well, that was a feather in his cap. If he ever really wore a cap.

"You know!" he said, in that way of his that cut through the conversation. All eyes on him! The tone seemed to say. And, he felt like right now, that wouldn't be the worst thing. "I think pizaz is just flair dressed up in a party dress," he grinned wider. Tusky and warm with how pleased he was. Looked to Lou. "Hard to get the real flavor of things to come out sometimes though," looked back to Keytl and Winnika. Hands miming a knife on a cutting board. "Good prep work is key!" he pretended to fillet a thing. "And know what spices and sauces help bring out your ingredients natural notes, what temperature to cook them at, how long! Even the wood you are using to burn the fires in the old stone ovens and cookpits back at the Knoll!" Now his eyes seemed to be afire. "I couldn't imagine how bored I would be if I only ever made the same thing and, you would be surprised the flavors you can get out of vegetables and fruit! Nuts and grains. Crea- no no, that's milk," he said, eyes down cast as he counted the lines on his fingers. Like the creases of skin carried some secret knowledge he had hidden away in there. "Oh!" he remembered. Grabbed up Lou's arm with his own hooked about. "We gotta find the Lait Monger!"

Stole close to her, whispered. "Let's get out of here," all secret smile under his breath. Looked to the other two.

"See you at the Calico!" hurried off into the crowd with sure steps.

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

Of course, Lou thought, how silly to think they were saying something bad about his cooking. They hadn't said anything of the sort, had they? Lou wasn't sure why she had barked at them. No wonder Ketyl felt the need to put her in her place. Lou blinked, brows furrowed. What a strange thought to have, and how yucky it felt to think of it that way. She hardly listened to Roki, going back to staring at the ground and playing with her hands. They weren't stained for once. No traces of color left on her fingers.

It made sense that Roki got along with Ketyl and Winnika. He was their age. The three of them would surely become Knights together. Lou took a step back from Roki. Right as she was about to take another, a warm arm wound its way around the crook of her elbow. Her head bobbed up in surprise, her thoughts no longer drowning her.

Green and gold met, like summer afternoons in a field of wild grass. She nodded her head once, not bothering to look back as her steps became quicker and more certain. This time, she followed after Roki. It was different, following after someone instead of leading them. When following after a Knight, Lou always had questions about where they were going and what they were doing. Unlike when her parents had led her through the forest as a child, she was not supposed to question anything, only observe and remember.

The smile had returned, her eyes on purple bouncing through the breeze that they created by running away. With Roki, there may have been questions, or maybe not many at all. Either way, it didn't matter. She trusted him to lead her away, even if it meant being surrounded by thick, sweet-smelling cream.

"I wish I were wearing my roadrunner trousers!" Lou exclaimed, suddenly worried that she was holding Roki back from his full speed. Then again, the crowds made it difficult to really sprint down these streets and alleys.

---

"Hey, where'd Roki go?" Noa asked. She held bags of peanuts, pistachios, cashews, and almonds in one arm. One hand was already in one bag, grabbing a large handful of salted pistachios. Ketyl and Winnika glanced at each other.

"Off with Lou," Winnika said slowly, looking as if she felt bad for ratting the two out. Ketyl only shrugged. Not that Noa could have seen it.

"I see." The two squires felt their lips quirk up in silly smiles. It was always funny to them to hear her say that. The way Noa grinned at them made them think she had said it on purpose. Perhaps she had. "Well, you two got to have a little adventure. I think it's time Lou had one, too. Maybe Ne and I could take a long walk by ourselves tonight. Whadya think, Ne? Wanna have date night?" The albino tiger growled, tossing his head dramatically to the side, nearly knocking down one of the two blushing squires. Noa only laughed and followed after the tiger. "C'mon, let's get to the inn. "

 

[Roki]

"Road runner trousers?!" he called back over his shoulder, ducking and weaving about the market crowd. "Oh, do those make you run faster?" he asked with a hop step. "Two tone, mono-color? Embroidered road runners on the ankle?!" Danced between the measured pull of her weight on his arm, and the excited steps his feet seemed to beg him to take.

Forests and green places. He had trouble with those. Crowds. People? Those he wove through like wind through the reeds.

Come a clearing in the street, his feet stopped. His eyes still on Lou, his arm still about her. He bumped to her close. "You gotta tell me all about em," he said quiet between them. Eyes all full of interest as he beamed.

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

Twins suns shone bright at her, her smile growing like a sprout in spring. The sound of people speaking over each other while haggling, the steady, slow roll of cart wheels bumping against uneven stones, the hot air when in the midst of a crowd, all of it faded away with each step. Until finally, they were in a haven, like a high rocky island surrounded by sharks. Lou didn't know how Roki managed to take her along this invisible path that resulted in not a single trip or shoulder bump.

Lou gave a slight nod of her head, smile still wide, green eyes still sparkling so much that they glittered like diamonds. She didn't let go of Roki, even if she thought that holding on this long must seem weird to him. She leaned towards him, toes pointed in his direction.

"They're brown and white with orange and blue embroidered roadrunners running up and down on the sides." She didn't know why she blurted it all with one quiet breath. Didn't much care, enjoying the tingle behind her neck as if she were sharing secrets. "They do make you run faster. But," Lou blushed, looking down at their shoe for a second. Her eyes were back on Roki in half a heartbeat. "You can only run fast if you're going straight ahead. You can't change directions unless you come to a full stop and then turn. I might have messed up some of the stitching or something, maybe dyed the threads wrong."

A little shrug. Mistakes happened. She eyed the bracelet, craning her neck to make it easier to peek at it.

"I didn't mess up your bracelet, right? Have you been feeling lucky?"

 

[Roki]

Roki's brow quirked at the description of the trousers. "Ho, now that's a color scheme, all earth sun and sky!" he said with a widening grin. thinking on how he had seen so much of Lou's work draped on manikins. Worn well on others about the monastery. But, never really on her. Thought on how she might look in those two tone trousers. All snug, with their little road runners running up her legs.

"Oh," he said, eyes on nothing in particular. Recalled the last bit of what she had been saying. Smirked. Never minding the warmth that blushed across his nose. But before he could say anything, she seemed to tilt. Move. Had she always been that close?

He cleared his throat, brought his off hand up. "Lucky as lavender!" he announced. Tittered a little, nervous. Not really sure why. Nervous wasn't really his style. "My parents used to say that," he offered with a wiggle of his nose. "Hey, did you pack those trousers by the way?" he asked. Smiled, somehow wider seeing those big green eyes of hers. "Bet they bring out your eyes," showed tusks the more as he stepped forward, having smelled the sweet grassy scent of fresh milk. "Like little clovers, against the sunset,"

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

Lou nodded her head. Yes, she thought, elated, that was the color scheme she was going for. So many birds flew, but roadrunners stayed on the ground. They had a freedom all their own, one that they chose. Lou had seen them fly before, a short burst of flight to get somewhere high away from a fox. Yet, they decided to be on the ground, running about faster than one would think for something so small.

She tilted her head back up at him, feeling the air between them turn warm.

"I didn't know lavender was lucky," Lou admitted, equal parts sheepish and intrigued. Parents often had unusual sayings, and sometimes the wisdom in those words was not realized until years later. She wondered what could be so lucky about lavender. Was it that lavender tea helped the random pimple found on her forehead when she least wanted it to appear? She wanted to ask Roki more about the saying, perhaps trade stories about the things parents would say, but then he was closer.

The flush on her cheeks wasn't from the wind that had whipped at them during the escape, and she worried that if she breathed too hard, the shared air between them would all be hers.

"I left them for Ulrika to wear. Because she's always late to her classes and practices." Lou wouldn't have been surprised if Ulrika were still late to everything, believing the trousers gave her another minute or two to read her smutty gnome books, her most recent hyperfixation. 'Faeries with wings smut was sooo last year,' Ulrika had told Lou when she asked about the sex appeal of gnomes. Lou held her breath for a second too long, exhaling softly and slowly, looking away from Roki as she did so. Even her neck felt warm. "I dunno if they really suit me. I think they look best on someone with longer legs. Like you." Green glanced back at gold. "You should try them on when we're both back at the Monastery. I'll help you to make sure you don't crash into anything like Ulrika."

 

[Roki]

He blinked. "You, you want me to try them on?" lips half curled into a smile, wobbled with uncertainty. Gulped, and smacked his thigh. "Alright then!" he said all bright and sure.

Lou was always ahead on the trends. Like when she made the Paracausal parachute pants! Sure, the season she had put them to show for the other squires, everyone barked a laugh. Roki had been intrigued, but they weren't his size or fit. And, while Rilia had denied the fashionably tailored pair of oversized leggings! He wasn't really sure what a parachute even WAS. Not a month and a half later, Dartania had been sporting a pair of similarly tailored trousers. All billow and baggy.

So. Roki had learned, never doubt Alouette D'aureville when it came to matters of fashionable sensibility.

"I'm sure I can get the hang of the enchantment," he said, sure as sure could be. Gave her a little bump on the shoulder with his own shoulder. "I can even help with the enchanting, if you want to maybe try and remedy the issue!"

He was no where near as talented in the weaving of magic into natural fibers as Lou. But! He did know his way around enchantments in general. And something like only being able to go in straight lines sounded like a matter of proper channeling. Which really amounted to setting up the right pathways for the shroud to run along.

Of course! Lou would have the final word in all manners fabric and cloth. But! His time enchanting armors, and creating all manner of doohickeys and doodads had taught him more than a thing or two when it came to solving the more temperamental aspects of shroud tracing in inanimate objects.

 

[Alouette D’aureville]

"Would you?" Her fingers tightened around him, subtle like the stretch of cat claws that were careful not to clutch at skin, only fabric. "I can show you what I did, and maybe you can see where the mistakes are? I did think that maybe if I had gone with a different weave than a twill, it might have worked better. Twill is just always... so sturdy and firm. It's hard to make it loose — it's always so tight." She mused, brows furrowing. "I think I am just too comfortable with items that are light and baggy. But Ulrika was telling me that skinny trousers are in again, so I went with a tighter weave." A little shrug of contemplation, but nothing more than that.

"I'll show you what I did for the pattern. I drew it out. You can tell me where I went wrong. I know it has to be the pattern, my dye was good." Her dye was always good, even Ketyl would admit it. But no matter how perfect her colors turned out, if they were woven wrong, the magic was gone.

There were no other eyes she'd want on her projects, half finished, perhaps destined never to be finished, a mess of weave and splotchy colors, then Roki's eyes. It was hard showing off a finished product, but harder yet to show someone when it was still unrealized, to allow someone to see the guts of her care and love before she could hide it with perfectly tailored skin.

"I really missed you, Roki." She knew it wasn't his fault, that now it would be expected to go on journeys that tended to be longer than one hoped. It was a part of the passage that Lou herself could see in the horizon for herself. She was more competent with her magic, steadier with a blade, less likely to get in the way. It didn't mean she couldn't look back at the Monastery and wish to stay, busy with her craft and chores.

Sometimes, Lou wasn't very good at embracing adventures, even if they were worth it in the end.