"No!" Lucero said quick and loud, but the thought occurred to her regardless. Her hand pressed against his thick neck, finding his jaw before fingertips pried open his lips to then trace over each strange and unique jagged tooth. She couldn't express that she wanted him to bite her, to use his sharp teeth to rip off a piece of her flesh. But she couldn't admit it, anxious worry silencing her that the moment he chewed he would spit her piece of flesh out. She wanted to hear him chew, to feel his throat bob as he swallowed her body.

Oh, dear, Nemera was surely going to write it in her report now, the strange and complex feelings Lucero felt, and quickly she focused on his laugh, his tease, and then the new wave of truth he uttered. Unable to feel lust? Her brows furrowed together, raising her head so her ears could better catch onto everything he said as the wind whistled above them.

Lucero couldn't imagine it. She could understand not feeling desire from lack of sight, or perhaps the principle that attraction was never just purely based on looks. There was humor, the gentleness of hands, quiet truths and secrets spilled, long talks into the night that pulled the soul and heart towards another like thread mending a loose seam. What she couldn't imagine was her body never reacting to any of it. No heat, no fluttering of the heart, the hunger she could feel inside of her that didn't come from a empty stomach but instead an empty --

How did Rois know Lucero had pictured Silas the one to be serviced with the butcher's mouth? Lucero felt very silly indeed, a hint of envy that the man was more likely to bite Silas than her. The healer shook her head.

"Sexual prowess doesn't make a man, Rois." She wondered how he knew he needed aid to become aroused, if he had been like some of the men who visited her for a vial that she sold. Lucero could smell the bitter salt, far less more herbaceous and more akin to cut stone by the sea. "And desire isn't needed to build long lasting and meaningful connections. Perhaps it is more of a blessing, I've had to counsel men who felt that such desires were ruining their lives and marriages."

Unfortunately there was no cure for cheaters or philanderers who were scared of commitment.

"I think what makes a real man has little to do with how he looks or behaves in the bedroom, what matters most is how he treats himself, the people he cares about, and strangers. Someone who is empathetic but not to the point he can be taken advantage of, who is merciful to the lowly and does not judge their circumstances with a hardened heart, like if he saw someone who was ill he would offer aid if he could. Oh and he is loyal and honest, wise and humble, valiant but not rash...." Lucero trailed off. There were a lot more 'ands' and 'buts' she could add, many more desirable traits she could add.

"Maybe I don't really know much about masculinity, but I think it's better to be a respected man than some sort of stallion spreading your seed." Lucero patted Rois's chest as if it were some dog's head. "Besides, people don't need to know that you don't care for sex, although I am not sure why you made a big deal about it to Syr Silas when you first met him."
 

“You are preaching manliness as a woman; but I do wonder how well you know men.”

The sort of spiel that came from do-gooders seeking validation in their holy deeds, no, she would not be rewarded for her efforts, instead the conversation is turned right back at the healer with a single sentence; and it is spoken in a dark murmur flavoured by visible curiosity blooming before her eyes.

What did Rabbit know of men? Was she sultry, a lioness in the bed with outstretched claws using sensitive hands to build pictures within her not-so-innocent mind, had she known the ‘love’ of many others? Rois imagines her naked form sprawled out on satin with subdued thoughtfulness, devoid of lust, picturing only what he knew as truths-- the curves of the womans hips and the measure of her breasts are unfocused elements in the scene, pink and white and flustered and vulnerable. What is in focus would be Rabbit’s expression, all round-eyed and teary and begging for gentleness, shy and coy, no more a lioness than a house-cat was--

No, surely, Lucero did not know men… at least, not well enough.

“What you describe is the perfect man; as you yourself admit, they are not commonplace at all.” Rois spares the woman a slow drawl instead of methodically picking apart her statement, the mental image is being scrubbed viciously away, it does not linger… like her thoughts about him do. A Lucero caught in the midst of a sexual situation meant nothing to someone like he, after all. “Though I am curious as to why you keep bringing up that idiot, when he himself surely does not fit the mold you have so lovingly created of what a man should be…”

He knew they had something, but the man was married. It had been as easy as the sun above to parse the knights protectiveness of her as something a little more than just worry for the healers health… but a concern for Luce’s ‘sanctity’. Purity. Jealousness, easily readable flashes in stormy eyes, some small part of syr Silas wanted it to be him instead taking Lucero in the shadows of an alley, and the thought that another man got their first had birthed misery within the older male; it had all been fun for Rois, obviously. Making people act out was his favourite hobby, just like how he was about to flabberghast the woman clinging so dearly to him--

“I said those things to fluster him. Men with interest solely in women often get disarmed by the insinuation of the other option…” She cannot see the way his fanged grin splits dark lips, narrowed eyes glimmer like starlight, “Or maybe, it confuses you that someone without lust could so easily say such things…?”

Fingers bat gently at his center; they do little to distract from the mischievousness that slides into the butchers tone, sticky and hot and thick with its ability to turn words into something more, for an asexual the man has the uncanny (learned) skill to turn that mouth filthy at the drop of a hat… a deep, guttural purr rumbles her fingers in amusement, the vibration quivers her bones.

“It is easy for me to sound sexual, rabbit, because I have fucked many men-- women, too. Far more than you. And I have also been likewise fucked by probably the same amount. No, I do not care for sex.”

A casual shrug, a statement as effortlessly spoken as casual conversation.

“... But I needed the money.”
 
"There's lots of men at the Monastery." Of course she knew men, she had a father, she played with boys as a child, trained with them as a teenager, and traveled with them as an adult. She knew Syr Silas and Syr Rakan, both completely different in their outlooks on life. Lucero had shared a drink with many of the Knights, had knelt beside them to help ease their pain when something had gone wrong. There was Syr Horoth, too, who reminded her that even a hard past didn't always lead to a bad future.

"I've had a boyfriend, too. " Lucero added, in case Rois had only asked her to see if he could embarrass her. She bet all her savings, which wasn't much and could use a few months of her budgeting or picking up a side job, that Rois had had many more boyfriends than her. He was tall and muscular and had a deep voice. It sounded like something he would brag about.

"Silas is more like my father than anything else. I'm sure he thinks of me as a daughter, he's more than twice my age."

She swallowed the sound of surprise from his next statement. Rois had more experience than her but at what cost? Lucero made a face at how he phrased it, as if the only options were to be fucked or to do the fucking. Couldn't it be both, couldn't it be more than just an act that could be reduced to a naughty word? Realization dawned on her, that was how he must see it if he felt no desire, no wanting. So what did he care for instead?

"Money," Lucero echoed, a hint of sympathy there. She hated that part of life. As a girl she had became aware of it sooner than she should have, not the transaction of sex for coin, but how coin could practically buy anything. The elite who patronized everyone, full of entitlement, believing everything had a price. The written contracts, the fine print, the sort of jargon that was hard for commonfolk to understand and it was meant to be that way so only the rich could get richer.

What sort of price did Lucero have? What had been Rois' price and did he still have one?

"That woman offered you coin, she wanted you." Far more open about it than Lucero ever could be. "But you declined, probably because you no longer need to do that to make a living, right? So then... would you if she had offered you thrice that amount or more? You have no desire for sex but if your desire for money is strong enough, can you force yourself to do anything?"
 

“You can’t see the way Silas looks at you.”

The way he had bristled at accusations within the alley, the way the mere touch of the two together made him seethe with rage, she knew the emotions the knight felt but not the way those eyes burned. Her little remark about the boyfriend makes Rois scoff, ok, so she wasn’t a pure innocent virgin angel baby, but she wasn’t on the same fetid, rotten level he himself occupied. Nowhere close. It is the red spire of sin the butcher mentally occupies when Lucero speaks of money, the question catches the man a little off guard; the healer was asking a lot of questions and the motive was unclear. Maybe she had a fascination, as if the red-head was a strange bug beneath a glass, so abnormal in fact that Luce was desperate to know exactly what made him tick--

“... There was a time where I would have done anything for any large amount of money.” Admitted with the same old honesty, the tone Rois uses is a little emotionless, it is comprised of logic. Poor people would and did do anything for money. “... But I had limits then, and I have more now. I have killed for money in the past.”

That is the second worst thing a man could do.

“But I have never raped anyone, and never would, no matter the price.”

To him, this was by far the most terrible thing a male could act out.

“Now that I am not penniless… I get to be choosy. There is not much you could pay me to do now, because I usually have more money than the person offering.”

Shameless man, utterly entitled to that mindset, but a simple man none-the-less-- when you came from nothing you saw the frivolous spending of the rich and did not engage in such nonsense in turn. What good were things for the sake of looking wealthy…? If they had purpose perhaps, but despite Rois’s earnings he was called by others a miser, someone who did not spend freely and instead would prefer to hoard wealth in secret. Little statements of richness were better, like how the shirt beneath her fingers was not the scratchy wool of the average man but the blended soft-silk of minor luxury… tailor-made boots and pants fitted to perfection, the leather of his belt knows expensive oil. There was an intake of breath as if he were about to continue-- the manner in which Lucero had said ‘force yourself’ was taken bumpily, as if the butcher was not sure if he should be offended or not-- but something steals his words away before they could be bitten out.

Two little lights along the way.

… The horse is suddenly drawing to a very slow stop, and beneath the womans fingers Rois’s entire body tenses as if anticipating something with a pregnant lapse of ominous silence. Oh Gods, no. The Suldazan knew the dusty shade of blue atop their fluffy skulls, like extra moons in the night, knew the frantic waving of hands as much as he knew his own fingers, the red-head makes an uneasy noise in his hesitation with the dancing beast below them treading backwards in annoyance of the halt--

“...”

Pink. Not the heavy, deep pink of love but something lighter, like cherry-blossoms in spring, like powdered icing upon baked goods, the gentle blushing of white skin, it is an innocent and gentle and unseen colour upon him; it blooms before Luce’s eyes upon his back to chase away the darkness. Love without desire was a tender thing indeed… a color only spied in children, now spread against his beating heart as if he were a boy,

“I want to admit something.” Ha, a stilted voice, embarrassment, Rois needs to be quick because little souls of the same gleeful colour have decided to advance upon them if they weren’t going to come forth! Clarification is brought forth because it has to be, ringing threats stay loud, if Luce felt fear there would be trouble and thus such an emotion could not come to pass-- “... Uh, these people running towards us are… my girls.”

My girls.

“They look older than they are, they are only thirteen, so not only will the prior conversation not continue but I also ask that you do not engage with them with similar topics. Do not talk to them as adults. Do not pry. Do not tell them what has transpired tonight, not the mission or the woman or whatever, and do not engage in their flights of fancy, I will not hear the end of it.”

The butcher sounds very stern all of a sudden…!
 
Not a rapist, that was good. Wasn't hard not to be one in her opinion, because where she came from, rape had very little to do with desire and everything to do with power. Lucero wouldn't know how Rois's body would operate, what reactions it could give, everything it could do. It didn't matter, he was still strong, she knew that more intimately than most, memory of his claws passing through her current train of thought.

The dizziness, the pain, and then a strange sort of euphoria, as if her mind tried to prepare her for the horror of death by making the final moments a little pleasant. A short, shallow breath got caught in her throat, nearly choking her.

Before she could argue that Silas probably didn't see her as a daughter only because he didn't have a child when he first met her -- and Kaif was the first experience that Silas had despite the child not being his --

"I didn't realize you were a father!" The smile that split across her face was large, white teeth framed by berry red lips, the apples of her cheeks all the rounder for it. "I thought you were younger than me, actually." He must be a lot older than her, perhaps she hadn't realized it because of how some of his mannerisms were a tad eccentric, like how quickly he was too run away despite being so large.

Still holding onto Rois, at least until she had to let go so he could get them off the horse, Lucero leaned off to the side, head poking out from behind his thick chunk of shoulder. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail that hung from the side, the ends curling up from being tied into a braid for so long. She could see the two souls, the shade like the lovely hue of dawn, fresh like spring, perfect peony pink.

"You don't need to worry, Rois, I'm great with children. Besides, I've kept all your secrets thus far, what's a few more?" Lucero assured him, unwrapping one of her arms from him to give the girls a wave. "Hello!"
 

“I’m twenty seven-- and they aren’t my biological children-- girls, stay away from the horse.”

They are lovely little things.

The closer they get the more evident it is that they are composed of simple hope and joy and love, the purity and clarity of innocent youth, arms reaching out to him like stray birds wishing to perch upon a bronze arm without a lick of fear to be had for him or her or the horse… yet the two little elflings do obey with a stop but a few paces afar no matter how much they wish they could pet the large animal upon its long snout. Everything about them is alike. Height and shape and curiousness, saucer-plate eyes and cotton-soft hair, they mewl for him like kittens calling for mother as mother slides himself from the horse with a short grunt when feet touch the floor--

“Crocodile! Crocodile!”
“Hello… and hello again, Crocodile…”

Lucero has sharp ears, a life used to detecting things like subtlety in tones and the texture of ones words, one twin has a louder, brighter voice… and the others come ever so slightly softer, internally filled with the same childish glee but externally more subdued. They give him just enough time to reach up and effortlessly grab the healer by the hips to relieve her of her up-high position, setting the knight gently down and fishing for the beasts reins to press them unceremoniously into her sensitive hands before he is abruptly (but not surprisingly) assaulted. Tackle-hugged twice, they coddle him with faces pressed sweetly against his rough body, rosy cheeks smushed softly, one on each side--

“We were waiting for you, see?” Feliene, she of starker voice, squints her eyes in pleasure.
“Welcome home… who have you brought?” Alaera of softer tone, round eyes capturing Lucero with a touch of inspection shining in them… the healer is blind, “... Was she lost…?”
“--Are you going to fuck?”


… Rois stands there looking disheveled as these little terrors barrage him with their sing-song voices, quite enamoured (as always) and thankful Lucero cannot see the way his own cheeks heat a touch at the always lovely welcome-- until Fel says that--

“Stop using that word-- it’s a bad word, and no, and no.” He growls out in warning, raising large claws to pry their pale arms from his torso (gently!), the scolding would not end there, the ‘dad voice’ has arrived. Words escape him with muted seriousness, deep tone resolute, all straight faced and with a finger wagged in their general direction, “Also, you two shouldn’t be so far from camp alone. It’s dangerous, it’s dark, and anything could happen.”

The camp is literally right there, the warm glow colouring the trees is bright, they could not be more than fifty feet away from its location barely hidden by the breadth of thick shrubbery but it’s too far for him,

“And this is Lucero. You’re going to wait here with her till I get back, and then you are going to stay in camp.”

Irritated (the blustered man wants to look more agitated than he actually is, unknowing that Lucero could see that his minor annoyance was really just worry for their safety), the butcher clacks his teeth and narrow eyes sweep from the healer and back… she says she is good with children. Well, in Rois’s mind, if there was ever a need for a baby sitter… Rois thinks Luce would be a perfect fit. So gentle and stupid that surely this simple job could not be fucked up, so lovely in her ways that no rule would be broken and no terrible things could possibly be said, the babied babying the babies-- a deep sigh overcomes him. He'd have to be lightning fast-- not because they’d be exposed to any manner of secret, Rabbit had proved time and time again an expert at keeping them, but because the man did not like the young ones interacting with adults he did not know to an extreme degree; it wasn’t safe. The waiting party of knights afar are still a threat, and he, overworked and suddenly exhausted he, was someone who stressed vigorously when it came to the nuances of caring for teenag--

“Hi, pretty miss! Can… can I pet your horse?”
“I like his pretty coat… it is beautiful.”

… Aaaaand they’ve already abandoned him to stand before Luce with mimicked curled hands and eyes flickering back and forth to the animal, trying not to dance upon the spot with the excitement only teenage girls could have for horses. Rois throws his arms up like ‘ok, fuck me I guess’ and gives the healer a parting warning--

“Anything happens to them, Rabbit, and I swear…”

… More false emotion. It’s barely even a threat, their presence has reduced him to a bastardized, flustered version of himself that is rapidly departing the scene by way of power-walk before anything else embarrassing happens that could twist the already degrading image of him that existed within the knights skull.
 
Hoisted easily off of Rakan's horse, Lucero felt warmth spread through her. Hardly a warmth that represented repressed yearning or naughty thoughts, the warmth felt was innocent, sweet, not yet bogged down by responsibilities that liked to wrestle with hope. They were not his children like Lucero had originally thought, and the nickname they called him confused her. Crocodile? Because of his teeth? A flush bloomed on her face, sharp ridges so close to pricking her fingers, how it felt when they did pierce through skin to draw blood, and yet, the underlying current of gentleness, more faint than a whisper on a breeze.

Cute.

The three of them were cute, especially when Lucero could see how the two girls felt about Rois. They did not fear him, they trusted him. Lucero thought about her father, how when she was about their age she had trusted her father so completely that when he asked to experiment on her she agreed. He hadn't written to her in a long time, had a letter finally arrived while she was away? Something in her heart told her that nothing would be waiting for her when she came back, only darkness and a empty room.

There was a pang in heart, it felt hollow and yet it ached. She could have sworn she felt him inject her arm with the needle that made her fall asleep and stay asleep, no matter what he did to her eyes.

Somehow, she knew that Rois would never take a risk like that on these girls, watching him interact with them now. Was he a better man than her father, then? Was it possible that Rois loved these girls more than her own father, she made of his own flesh and blood, had ever loved her? Why didn't he write to her now? She worried it was because he was unwell or dead, but was the more likely reason that her father accepted her to be a burden, would let her burden the Knights of Athenaeum so he could continue on with his life, unblemished by her failure to see?

The twins were sweet enough to make the bitter bile sickening her stomach to ebb away just enough that she didn't cry. There were people that needed saving, she had no right to be morose over her family history. Everything was her fault anyways, the loss of her sight was deserved. Really, she deserved worse.

"I'll protect them with my life." She promised Rois, looking between the two girls. "So much so even you would be impressed with how ferocious I can be." Because all children were good, their soft cores not yet hardened by life and strife. Even in times of famine, Lucero had watched children laugh and love the world despite the awful circumstances that were thrust upon them.

It was up to adults like Lucero to keep evil from invading their innocence.

Even if one of them already knew what fucking meant. Lucero wondered if Rois pretended to bring lovers back to keep his masculine mask, to peacock being a man in all their glory. Without fear, unashamed of their wants and desires, always taking on the mantle of leader because he was the biggest and the strongest.

Lucero's milky gaze went between the two girls, never quite looking at them in their line of sight, always slightly off. A quick glance to Rakan's steed, the horse didn't carry complex emotions, but she could see that the race back to Rois's camp against an invisible clock had made it both alert and reduced it's energy. Lucero managed to place a hand on the horse's broad neck, parts of it's mane stuck beneath her fingers. Short, small calming pulses were sent from her before she looked back at the girls. The horse was warm, his heartbeat strong.

"You can pet it's face or neck, stroke it down it's nose or give it a little wipe then pat, like this," Lucero slide her palm across the horse's neck before adding the only stipulation. "As long as you tell me your names? Rois didn't introduce us properly, but I suppose having good manners doesn't quite suite him." And perhaps she wouldn't have had it any other way. It made seeing him pink and blushing all the more thrilling.
 

She probably didn’t know how easily emotions showed upon her face.

For a moment the twins’s gaze are not upon the steed but upon the trouble that crosses Luce’s eyes, tumbling ash clouds across light grey, just noticeable enough for their little minds to begin to guess what could cause such a disturbance. One looks to where Rois has disappeared and figures that it was probably his woeful lack of trust, the butcher was incredible in the measure of disbelief he could hold for someone-- the other squints large eyes and comes to the conclusion that it was the utterance of the weak, incomplete threat that did it. To be blind was to lack in one of the vital senses that could keep yourself safe… both are wrong of course, but their knack of linking everything back to their lumbering caretaker was instinctual.

It mattered little; they could chase the sadness away!

“Ohhh…”
“I see…”

Four eyes follow the knights splayed fingers, little kittens watching a laser pointer’s dot with precision, there is no staggering with their exclamations--

“I’m Feliene!”
“I am Alaera…”
“And I’m sorry about the whole ‘fucking’ thing.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It was a good thing Lucero had the tools to tell them apart by way of subtle tone shifts and energy levels, the way they speak one after another could easily fool a sighted person into believing it was but a single entity speaking the entire string of words. But it is there, the difference, Feliene’s words are licked by the colours of humour and audacious loudness amidst the shadows falling about the trios form with a little hand leant towards the beasties neck in a fur-catch just as tender as Luce’s… fingers drag themselves up higher, to the curve of a jaw where mane-lock spills down gently, and the excitable child must stand upon tippy-toes to reach. Alaera’s reserved and polite murmuring is feather-soft, down comes the lightest patting imaginable against the quivering muscle of the horses shoulder in response to the motion-- it briefly spooks the little soul with a half-step back. But a glance to her sisters boldness and lack of being bitten delivers onto the shyer twin a touch of bravery to advance once more with the softness of young hands like the breeze.

“So warm… do… do you think Crocodile will let us… maybe sit upon his back?” ‘Era coo’s to Fel in a whisper, the fact that Luce had sharpish hearing is unknown-- it matters little. Children and their slipping grasp upon the volume button are bad at whispering regardless.

“... Absolutely not. I am surprised he’s even left us here!”

A very un-Crocodile thing to do, especially with a stranger… was this woman a stranger to them alone? A secret friend on the side the man had decided to hide away from their presence till she could be trusted enough to stand before them without the chance of death occurring from outside sources or the woman herself? Whilst Alaera’s eyes stay transfixed upon the beasts coat the braver sister confronts Lucero with a beat of cheerfulness--

“And who’re you, miss? The way Crocodile rode in with you-- it was very cool! He looked like a knight saving a beautiful damsel in distress!”

 
The blind knight smiled warmly at the children.

"It's okay," Lucero says to Feliene, looking at her. "Fucking isn't a nice word, it means there are no feelings attached and if there are no feelings attached then what is the point? You should instead say... um... making love. Doesn't that sound nicer? And it's technically not cussing, either." Hopefully when the girls become of age and they find themselves entranced with a lover they can instead feel love instead of carnal desires that ultimately matter little in the scheme of things. Lucero knew all too well what it felt like to have a man inside her who thought of her as nothing more than a fuck. It was better to have young girls raised upon high standards instead of them believing that the bar was in hell.

"It's very nice to meet you both." Her smile remained, cheeks rosy from the girls' refreshing honesty. Lucero hardly ever felt anxiety talking to children, no matter what she said, even if she clumsily stumbled over her words, she always sounded cool and trustworthy. At least, she thought she did. With a tilt of her head, moon scorched gaze falling towards Alaera, Lucero reaches out to the young girl.

"Sure, you can get on it's back. I'll make sure nothing happens. May I lift you up?" Rakan's horse had handled Rois and Lucero, surely a girl as small as Alaera wouldn't matter. If it did, Lucero was determined to make the horse feel otherwise. In case the quieter twin agrees to it, Lucero bent her her knees, arms in a half stretch towards her. Not the strongest Knight, Lucero's body is proof of that, but still a Knight nonetheless.

"Oh, did he?" Lucero laughed, finding the idea of Rois being a knight and her the damsel in distress quite funny. It was even funnier that Feliene said she was pretty and beautiful in under two minutes. Lucero had no idea what she looked like, she barely remembered her own face at this point. The only important faces for her to remember were her father's, mother's and grandmother's. "He is quite strong, I suppose he looks more knightly than me. May I tell you girls a secret?" Mischief playing on her features, mouth curved high, cheeks glowing roses, eyes wild with delight.

"I'm Rois's friend, even if he says we are not, I can tell he likes me. And I," Lucero beams, her smile all the wider, "like him, too. Therefore, you two are also my friends. If you ever need anything and I am around then you both never need to fear. I may not look like it but I am quite strong, too."
 

“Making… love?”
“... Oh…”

… That term-- that sweet, tender, innocent term-- it is a lot harder to say than fucking. Fucking was cold and logical and Rois did fuck without feelings being dragged to the forfront of every heated interaction, but making love…? Could their caretaker… do something like that, was he capable of what curious eyes had spied within the hearts of worn out romance novels, dashing men carrying their loves to a silver bed swathed in the petals of roses, flurries of kisses and playful smiles---- Alaera is so, so thankful in the moment that Lucero is sightless. Her hands had come to a standstill against the horse and, all at once, the lengths of her alabaster skin had turned a rosy shade of pink that almost veered upon red at the tips of pointed ears, oh, romance!

Romance and Crocodile?!?!

“...” Feliene watches her sister crumble into a mess beside her and gives a squeaky snicker composed of the same strokes of mischievousness that Lucero bore, though the washing of rouge came too at the curve of the youths nose bridge her attitude towards such matters was more ‘mature’. Well, at least to her it was mature; after all, she was the one who had mentioned fucking in the first place.

“We should stay on the ground, if Crocodile finds out he’ll just get all worked up!” Fel smothers laughter with the back of a curled hand, so they could be obedient when they wanted to-- truth be told the pair could trust Rois to catch them should they slip suddenly from the leather… it was not that the stranger would not try, something simply told them that Lucero wouldn’t be successful in the woman’s attempts to be ‘quite strong’. No bother. Words had swept away their little minds from the excitement of horses to the subject of love, sheltered teenagers always willing and ready to chatter like midwives at a washing line, “Well, miss Lucero, of course you’re his friend; if you weren’t, you’d never be allowed to be here with us! He’s super protective.”

“M-Maybe too protective…” Alaera finally quips; protective… like a prince to his princesses… moon-like eyes can somehow grow wider, a sharp intake of breath, was Lucero a princess too?? A once damsel now turned royalty by a kiss?! ‘Era jumps a little on the spot and buries her hands against her face to let the shimmering blue locks of her hair devour her bright red expression, it’s just like the books-- just like what they’ve read-- it’s too romantic--

… And the knight is subjected to contact. A fluid shift forward, the older twin settles herself against the healers side, arms touching, abandoning her sister (who seemed to be battling inner thoughts with the way she jittered upon the spot) to lean just a touch against Luce’s larger form…

“... You… like him?” … Feliene whispers softly, rushed, eyes narrowed as if the information being conveyed was top secret…
“Don’t worry… we won’t tell anyone.”
 
Lucero's felt the color wash out from her face, had she said something wrong? Making love was better than fuck, right? It had to be! Then again, at their age, if Lucero had ever uttered such words in front of her father she would have been scolded for being foul. Pure thoughts only, or maybe her father would have preferred her to have no thoughts at all.

The only compliment he ever gave her once her mother had died was how strong Lucero was, just like Mama, but Lucero had never once felt brave or strong in those moments. She had only been meek and nodded her head, her love for her father conquering her fear.

It might had been nice if her father saw her as she was, still a girl, not a woman, her fragile self esteem that was like glass only held together with spider silk. It would have been nice if he had been protective of her.

"Of course he's protective of you," she said with a gentle smile, dark brows curving towards each other. With cheeks no longer stretched, compassion smoothing out all previous worries. Lucero was not as beautiful as she could have been, the dip between collar bone filled with shadows stark against a slender swan neck, shoulders sharper than usual. But the look in her eyes would make up for it all, simultaneously sisterly and motherly.

There was a knowingness there, a shimmer of goodwill. She wouldn't utter a single word of the mission she was on. If Rois had told her that he had sold the wares to the Red Covenant to protect Feliene and Alaera she might have understood that better than when he told her his profession.

"He cares about the two of you, isn't that wonderful? You have big, strong Rois to protect you." What a beautiful thing it was to know that these two would not have to face the world defenseless and naive, with adults who saw them as fruit ripe for the picking, harvest for their taking, hells, some of them even plucked fruit from the vipe despite seeing it not yet ripe. "So always listen to him, he'll make sure you never have to worry or want much."

Lucero had seen the pink, her favorite color, mixed with the yellow her Mother once loved. The three of them made quite a lovely garden, had Rois been their nursery, had he made sure there was no misery or hate, no loneliness or regret. Had the gentleness he had once shown her came from his time spent with the twins?

"Although a little bit of mischief never hurt nobody, either." Lucero's eyes were coy until Feliene's warmth could be felt. What an odd question.

"Of course I like him, isn't it obvious? You can tell everyone if you want to, I'm sure he already knows it by now." A soft, half hearted shrug as if the fact was unimportant To her it was, better to lessen the gravity of her words than to let it linger between her and the twins. She couldn't tell them about the Knights, the moment Rois had shouted at her, bandage threatening to rip off his head. The thunder of hooves, resounding staccato that was the destructive dissonance to their third meeting.

Lucero wondered if it would be their last, disappointment heavy in her heart. Maybe on the ride back she'd be selfish and hold him all the tighter against her, would he believe her if she lied and said it was because she was cold?

"Say, Feliene," Lucero looked towards her, "Alaera," Her gaze went towards the blushing girl. What was she so giddy about? It wasn't like she was on the horse which Lucero would have hoped to use as a token of friendship. Maybe being close to the horse was enough. "Why do you both call him Crocodile?"
 

She says she likes him.

Likes, likes, oh, it’s too delicious.

It starts by way of the two squealing happily with flailing arms and childish giggles, finally, finally a good woman for their lonely crocodile-man, her voice is like cotton, she is effortlessly sweet, and she likes them, too-- what more could a kid want for their special adult, always half-standing in shadow and pushing people away with the ferociousness of a wild animal that eagerly rejects the idea of love? Without warning her fingers feel the gentle slide of a littler hand clutching loosely at her own, fingers interlocked, blush skin against rose, a gleeful swing too and fro of the healers limp arm,

“We love mischief…! But, we do love Crocodile more.” … This was extremely evident, the sentiment skirts about snickered words impishly. “I wonder what’ll happen… you shouldn’t overestimate Crocodile though, in times like this, he’s a little dense.”

“Crocodile really doesn’t get love at all…”

Yes, like meant love, what else could it mean…?! The other sister sheepishly and slowly rounds the knight on the other side and lends her starry blue eyes to the womans free hand, pondering whether or not she had the bravery to pluck the limb up as Feliene so wantingly had, filled with the sudden loveliness of a seemingly tender confession. Slowly, far tentatively, Luce loses her other hand to a similar affection as they form a trio of whispering girls linked by fragile contact, a circle that holds no horrid or heavy emotion; just like that imagined garden, the only thing that grows there is honest and compassionate feelings of sweetness.

“He’s Crocodile because he’s bitey, and cranky, and he is strong and big--”

“And… you don’t know?”

The two gasp, they say as one, surprised that Lucero didn’t have this information--

“He can turn into a giant demon crocodile!”
“He can turn into a giant crocodile demon!”

… And just as they say that there he is, suddenly visible lengths away in all his shadowy glory, clutching the scrap of a note fetched from the company’s well-looked after archives-- but something else has appeared. A little purse-like affair (nice man-bag, Rois), black leather buttoned down and strap crossed against his chest, hopefully she’d never get a chance to glean what resided inside, curled against layers of wax paper… strips of what would appear to be something like dried out jerky in dark, mottled disks. Blood sausage. Composed of the flesh and blood of people stirred into hot oats and cooled these lovely little circular bricks were precious things that kept said Crocodile demon at bay, and as much as Rois would love to turn and consume the knights party in a fit of abhorrent and meaningless horror they did actually mean something to the huddled healer and her little accomplices. A daisy chain afar… red eyes narrow and the pace picks up, nope, something told him they were discussing matters that shouldn’t be talked about--

Quick Lucero, before he gets there, say what you want to say--!!
 
Her words that were to come by, little thought needed before speaking, become twisted and intertwined like a tumbleweed, where one thought began and one ended no longer discernible. Lucero swallowed them down as if it were a feast, her stomach greedy for the unspoken. Feliene's hand felt warm and soft, delicate fingers with small knuckles. Only a fool wouldn't hold Feliene's hand back, and while Lucero is often a fool but not in matters relating to the heart.

Her fingers pressed against the back of the girl's hand, feeling the excitement and the glee. She didn't do it often, but right now, Lucero tuned her soul towards Feliene, relishing in those feelings. Having been born in a land that never snow, remembering desert sunrises more than coastal or forest, Lucero thought of Feliene as a bird that flitted about cactuses, unbothered by sharp spikes, navigating through them naturally. The birds would make their homes inside a cactus, safe to build their nest because a cactus was still a cactus.

Maybe Feliene said what she had because they had gotten in trouble recently, or had been scolded? He did tell them they were too far from camp, and perhaps at that age any sort of consequence always felt like a bad consequence?

"I wouldn't say he's dense," Lucero murmured, "I think he just doesn't like showing his soft side in front of others. He's shown me how gentle he can be but only in private. Despite all his bravado, he's oddly... shy about certain things. Nothing you two need to worry about, I can see how much Rois loves you both. Like you're his pride and joy!" If only she had been her father's pride and joy, too instead of his failure.

Alaera took her hand gingerly and Lucero's spirits soared, slow at first. Both their innocent curiosities and sweet wonder rejuvenating her heart. Both hands held theirs with firm, steady determination, sharing warmth and parsing through honest feelings. There is good in the world, she must protect that goodness. The kind sentiment cracked upon the girl's exclamation of Rois's nickname. Giant Crocodile. No, wait, Giant Demon. That wasn't right, either. Giant. Crocodile. Demon. Alaera's voice may have been the softest between the three of them, but it struck Lucero the loudest due to the silent kinship of two sheepish romantics.

"I see." She couldn't really see, not the way they did, but she had gotten the briefest of glimpses of it, hadn't she? "He never told me that." Lucero admitted, although he had practically threatened it. "But I should have known." She was clearly a fool in other things. "Giant crocodile demon," she said aloud, as if rolling the words around in her mouth, finally getting a taste of what it meant. "If that's the case then you both are very safe. I'm so happy for you, all of you."

It never occured to Lucero that such a transformation could possibly endanger the Alaera and Feliene, all Lucero knew was that Rois had control of it because of his bandages. All Lucero knew was that Rois could choose soften himself when he wanted or needed to. In that moment, Lucero stood, holding hands with them, beaming at Rois like a sunflower did to the sun, as if he were not a scary shadow but a dawn's haborer. And perhaps the twins felt it too without needing to know Lucero's heart in the first place.
 
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The quiet admission from the newly found friend causes them both to pause in thought before bursting into fitful trills of laughter… how did she know him so well already?! How had Lucero bypassed all of his little trials and tribulations that existed specifically in place to keep him a mile clear from the delicate feelings that usually floated about the notion of love? It was as if Lucero herself was nought but a spectre, a graceful being of brilliance that was burdened not by the shackles mortals wore, those towering walls surrounding his heart were unclimbable to most due to the sheer escalation of their tilt and height… a mountain summit. A precarious ascent for possible (probable) rejection. Not she, though, she had strolled through the barriers as if they were but tricks of moonlight--

“I guess… he doesn’t want to be seen as weak.”
“And being loving means being weak, to him.”
“But do you want to know a secret, miss Lucero?”

Both twins heads swivel-- they look over their shoulder to see flashing eyes, oh God-- Fel’s words come as a rushed chatter--

“-- Crocodile is actually a really tactile person; so if you want to touch him anywhere, you should, because he won’t care at all, he just lets you--”

“Hey. Hey, what are you saying about me!?”

The man arrives like a charging bull and comes to a screeching stop, not quite hearing what had tumbled from Feliene’s lips as the girls suddenly break the contact between themselves and Lucero to skitter away in a manner akin to kittens scrambling away from a fate of being grabbed. A rough snort and narrowed eyes, the man puts a hand to his hip and flashes teeth in an irritated manner, they were gossiping. Of course they were gossiping, that is what females did best, the girls were hiding on the other side of the horse with breathy laughs punctuating through mewled out words,

“M-Miss Lucero was saying we’re you’re pride and joy…!”
“Is, is that true, Crocodile?”

“... I wouldn’t go that far.”

The butcher remarks both dully and flatly (a well put-together lie), a smooth stalk about the horses flank causes them to run around to the other side and back to Lucero-- Celestial's have mercy, Rois puts a hand to his face and rubs it wearily against the bandages kissing bronze skin, what sort of hit has his reputation taken in the five or so minutes he’d been rapidly searching the camp for information!? They were on a time limit, this wasn’t exactly the best moment to play a game of tag about a damned animal-- authority is once again wielded in the mans tone, desperate to send them skedaddling back to where it was safe and quiet and they could not whisper like jesters into the knights ear about things she didn’t need to know--

“Go home, you two, and stay there. I’m going to be gone for a day or two… so there’s no point waiting out for me here.” Crocodile doesn’t know how long the mission was going to go on for, but words between he and the rest of the waking crew had been a brief and honest low-down whilst the girls were out of earshot about the order, the predicament, and the upcoming hunt. They would settle where they were and wait out the time without worry for his safety, after all, how much danger could those tit-freaks really drag against he of a thousand teeth, ready and willing to burn them out of whatever nest they were laying low within…? Laughable was the notion that there was any real threat here, and arrogant as ever it was taken entirely in stride with hands seeking the girls shoulders the moment they saddle up against him in a parting hug.

“Ok… have fun, all right?!”
“Don’t… kill anyone.”
“And remember to eat!”
“And remember not to kill anyone!”

Wickedness caused the man’s lips to draw over fangs (it was the not-killing notion that caused such mirth, but the emotion is quickly dashed off of the red-heads expression) as Rois shyly, just as Lucero had mentioned, taps their fluffy heads in a gingerly executed half pat… before shoving them in the direction of the flickering light. Go said the unspoken command. But, before that…

“Bye, Miss Lucero! It was a pleasure meeting you!”
“Let’s talk about… what we were talking about again sometime!”

“...”

He watches them zoom off in an utterly guilty fashion and turns to the knight with accusation in the reds of that slit-pupiled gaze,

“... What were you talking about?”
 
Lucero frowned at the girl's words, missing the chance to remind them that Rois was wrong. To be strong one had to be soft. Kindness had no limits and compassion had no enemies. But it wasn't Feliene and Alaera that needed to be told that, without them having to say it she knew it was a thought only Rois shared.

"I love secrets," Lucero whispered to them, but even if she had stayed quiet, she felt certain they'd have ended up telling her anyways. Rois came towards them like a bull as if they were all waving a red flag to taunt him. She smiled. He didn't care about being touched, really? The inn came to her mind, the strange curve of his teeth, the wet tongue Lucero had touched by accident as he took her hand to explore what he wanted her to see. Nothing more, nothing less.

But Lucero definitely wanted more. Even if Rois wanted neither of daisy chained trio to have any fun. The girls were off, then beside her, giggling and laughing, making honest answers sound a lot like lies. The blind knight realized then that she had let go of the horse reins, she quickly went to grab them, pretending she had never let them go in the first place. It took her awhile to get ahold of the leather, hoping the twins were just the distraction Rois needed to not realize what she was doing. The cheerful smile made it's return on Lucero's bright face, it only faltered at Alaera's reminder.

Don't kill anyone. A rock in her stomach. And remember not to kill anyone! No, it was a boulder in her gut, crushing her innards so breathing hurt despite her body suddenly feeling hollow. Lucero pulled the smile back on her face, waving at the girls as they left.

"Bye bye," she chimed, "See you next time!" Would there be a next time? Was that sentiment as fake as her smile? Rois brought her out of herself, his question hanging in the air between them. "About you? That you're big and strong. How you're protective of them. They told me why they called you 'Crocodile,' and I told them they were lucky that you're around to keep them safe and to listen to you." Perhaps not in that order, but the gist of it was surely good enough.

"They also told me if I touched you that you wouldn't care," Stirring up mischief at one point in time had been like second nature to her, now when she called upon it it felt exhilarating as if this were the feeling of flying and never fearing to hit the ground. A languid looseness followed after her words, reaching a hand out to Rois as if she meant to lead him away. "C'mere," Lucero said with a playful lilt, "let's test it out."
 
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