Lucero

Lucero

Silver Lining
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Bundling up herbs for the infirmary was a good excuse to bask in the sun while feeling like she was working. The blind knight would bring each green stem to her nose and through smell alone could she organize them. She had gone into the herb garden and the surrounding forest to pick what was fresh and needed. It was very much like a day off, and she wore an oversized tunic tied at the wait with a belt and a long tiered skirt that Syr Silas had once told her reminded him of a his granny. It was more of a compliment than Syr Silas realized, everyone knew grandmas were everyone's favorite.

Neat piles of verbena, thyme, rosemary, and wormwood were made. Piles of chamomile and spearmint grew, their comforting scent relieved the tensions in her neck and shoulders. The summer heat never bothered her, here it was never hot enough during the summer months. She did well in the dry heat, preferred it over humidity. Her skin soaked up all the sunshine it could get, deepening its color and having a natural glow from a dark bronze undertone.

With long lengths of fresh twine she bundled up the herbs with stems or roots, placed the separated flowers and leaves in large billowing bags that were then secured with twine. Everything was placed in a basket with a cloth on top the wicker. Birds were chirping high above, she could hear the squabble of ducks as they fought for pests in the garden not far from where she sat. Flowers still graced the air with their floral sweetness and when a soft breeze blew through Lucero's dark hair she could smell it.

Standing up with the dry basket handle already gripped in one hand, Lucero patted her long skirt free of any possible debris but knew it was more than likely she missed some. She turned her head to the sound of Squires sparring, ears pointed in their direction, her milky-white gaze staring at nothing in particular, unable to appreciate the verdane hills, the rustling of leaves, the back and forth play between light and shadow. Lucero raised her hand to her mouth to whistle at the Lapvonian Wolfhound, Moose, which she had let wander around the area.

His deep bark was a comfort as he bounded over to her, pushing through tall grass and jumping over a old wooden fence. His large paws pounded over tightly packed earth, grass long gone on paths made by all the Knights before her. He nudged her arm with the flat of his head, his wiry fur feeling more itchy than soft. Lucero gave him a pat then a pet, scratching the hard hollow between the dog's eyes. She could feel Moose's eyebrows lift as he continue to pant with an open mouth. He gave her a quiet, polite woof and Lucero took hold of his short leash tied around his neck.

"Infirmary," Lucero said softly, "c'mon, let's go." She should have been using the proper commands but the words felt harsh, warlike, and they wobbled uncertainly on her tongue. She felt sorry for the dog, trained since a pup to do a job, and liked giving him a reprieve from his duties, even if she could always feel his gaze on her, assessing her and their surroundings for any trouble. Lucero did most of the leading to the infirmary and it was Moose's job to make sure that she didn't trip on an upturned root or a loose stone, that she didn't bang her hip against a fence or smacked her face against a building.

It wasn't long until she entered the infirmary, small and simple, bitter and sweet. Lucero liked the smell of it, it reminded her of Sjitli's room, charcoal and copal, symbols that she knew like a second language, another a sixth instinct of knowing and feeling and experiencing, etched into the walls, floor and ceiling. A little bell rang as the door shut behind her and Moose. A part of the infirmary was used to medicine making and spell testing, Lucero knew there was a wall of books and a window and shelves filled with items, bundles hanging from ceilings (she had bumped into them plenty of times) and boxes filled with anything one could imagine.

Certain rooms were used as chambers for those that could not be disturbed, a key used to keep others from going out or the person from coming out. On another part of the great room, were cots, usually for when squires sprained an ankle or had an upset stomach, sometimes with a Knight sitting on them as a broken arm was mended. Not everyone preferred magic, sometimes they liked things the old fashioned way. Some of the cots were filled now, but the blind Knight tried to give them the privacy they preferred, even through the white sheets she could see their emotions and soul. Lucero let go of Moose's leash, using an arm outstretched before her to help her find a table to put her basket of fresh herbs on.
 
One of the nearby occupied cots housed a figure that emanated quite a strong and unique feeling. Most of the patients' souls here likely felt warm, even if feverishly so as they recovered; relieved to be taken care of, to have their wounds tended, happy to talk with their fellow Knights. But one of the guests of the infirmary felt... cold. It wasn't antagonistic. It was the cold of fear, compartmentalized and managed but so, so clear to Lucero.

Hla sat stiff and still in their cot, hands folded politely - anxiously? - in their lap. Their face was devoid of their usual blindfold, exposing their closed lids and long lashes; with how sunken in they were, it was quite clear to those that saw them that their eyes were gone. They were dressed in a simple gown lent to patients in need of something fresh, and easy to get to their wounds. Their cane sat at the side of their bed. At the foot of their bed in a small basket sat their clothes, bloodied and torn, smelling of long-stained blood and dead leaves and dirt, waiting to be cleaned. Hla, too, smelled of blood. Not just freshly wounded - smelled as if their very hands were stained from years and years of being drenched in it.

To most that passed by Hla, they were immediately wary to say the least - after all, his staff and bloody clothes clearly had symbols of the Sightless. Not just that, but with the golds and silks, it was clear there was status involved. A Knight had brought the former Seer here, and had informed them of Hla's situation - a defector. Still, that didn't stop most from avoiding his cot and feeling fear any time they saw the eyes decorating his staff or the bloodstained clothes.

Hla, too, was afraid. Everything since he left was so... confusing. So new. The world outside his insular circle was so different than what he was told. He'd experienced kindness; that was how he ended up here, after all. One Knight who risked their life to help Hla escape their pursuers. But it was foreign and strange. And now that he was somewhere safe... he didn't necessarily feel safe. His mind wouldn't let him feel safe. He was afraid of divine retribution, but so far things have been eerily quiet... He was afraid that the Knights would change their mind and decide it was too risky to keep him here. He was afraid of if they decided to allow him to stay, and continued to show him kindness.

He didn't know what to do.

So he just sat there. Nerves shot. Tense. Awareness stretched out as far as they could feel, trying to keep track of any movement nearby. Any threats.

A new pair entered the infirmary; Hla could feel their steps ripple through the Shroud around them. A person and their hound. By the smell of it, they'd brought in fresh herbs. Almost immediately, they could feel the shift in the beast's demeanor as it took note of Hla, pawing in front of its person and letting out a low, protective growl. Hla couldn't blame the creature. They imagined they must smell of death, and hounds of the Knights were well trained.

Out of sheer caution, Hla slowly held a hand to their side and summoned their cane to their hand. They did not hold it aloft or prepare to attack, merely wanted it in their hand. Just in case.

"I am no threat here," they spoke with a tilt of their head towards the woman, their voice soft, honeyed, quiet but projected easily across the room. Their words were spoken clearly, enunciated in such a way and with a somewhat lyrical cadence that naturally claimed attention. "Your hound has good instincts. But I promise, I am no threat to you."
 
Setting her basket down, she tried her best to give everyone privacy, knowing emotions weren't quite the same as knowing thoughts, and if Lucero was honest with herself, knowing the person's emotion never really helped when she was conversing with them. Innately, she knew that what she said was like muddy waters, more of a distraction than any help. Or perhaps the issue was with herself, knowing that when she made a mistake or misspoke and seeing the outcome immediately, anxiety had her bury herself deeper in a grave of her own paranoid making.

Moose bared his teeth towards the Sightless but Lucero instead turned her ear towards them, able to listen to them better. She had heard about them and how Syr Josai had brought them to the Monastery. She had heard that they were running away and were attacked by the cult. Perhaps the most common thing Lucero had heard were the other Knights telling her that Hla reminded them of her.

He spoke clear, concise words. He probably never fumbled in conversations the way she did.

"Moose," she chided softly, snapping her fingers together twice in quick succession. The wolfhound that was as tall as a donkey looked towards her and saw the fist that Lucero had made. He sat down but regarded Hla with a look that said he clearly didn't trust Lucero's intuition. "I'm sorry if he scared you, I think he was just asking for attention." Lucero patted Moose on his big head, finally turning her eyes to the Sightless.

Lucero was surprised by how small he was. She had expected someone bigger, at least her height, and with a wider frame. She tilted her head down at him, seeing the swirl of color. The shroud hung heavy to him, like Moose did to her late at night, nuzzling her neck and shoulder for attention. And yet, there was fear, one of the more familiar emotions that Lucero was truly able to grasp and understand. Fearful of Moose, or of her?

She smiled even if he couldn't see it, now fully turning her body towards him.

"I am Syr Lucero, Dawn sworn." Oh, but perhaps he wouldn't know of Dawn and Dusk, the idea of what each represented and their dominion of the six pursuits. "I am a healer," She added just in case, still smiling, eyes not quite where they should be on Hla's face but close enough. "I know you're not a threat so... if you're hurting anywhere or not feeling well, you can tell me, I can help."
 
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Hla couldn't help but tilt their head at the hound's name. Moose..? Strange. Perhaps it was normal here, he wasn't certain. He listened quietly to the snaps, the shifting of fur and the heavy thump as the creature sat down, though he could still feel that burning mistrust of Moose's gaze. They did not need to see to be able to feel that.

Good beast. Sharp instincts.

The former Seer shook their head, posture still stiff. "He did not scare me," he replied simply, softly. "I believe I am the one that frightened him." They were cautious, yes, and they gripped their cane out of instinct... but of all things here, Moose was something Hla was hardly afraid of. The wolfhound was dangerous, a beast with claws and teeth and instincts sharp enough to hunt down any it deemed prey. That kind of danger was something Hla was accustomed to. Violence. No, they were not afraid of that. They knew how to handle the beast if it leapt for him.

It was the unknown he was afraid of. The people, the monastery, the... world. Freedom. That was frightening.

As the woman introduced herself, Hla forced their grip to loosen on their cane. They let it rest at their side, traced their fingers along the golden eye insignia a few times, then - with some effort - released it entirely and returned their hands to their lap.

A healer. They're in the infirmary, of course there's going to be healers. This is just one of the first to go out of her way to talk to Hla. They took a deep breath and nodded in response, not yet aware of the trait they both shared.

"Syr Lucero," he repeated gently. His voice was far too gentle for the things he'd done. "Dawn sworn. Healer. An honor to make your acquaintance. I am..." the name caught in their throat as their former title tried to worm its way out. They swallowed it down. A flicker of a thought - should they introduce themself as the name they were apparently born with, that they have no memory of? The one they only recently learned? Or the name they had been given by the people who slaughtered his family and stole him from his home? That name... at least was familiar.

It was but a moment of panic before they settled their mind. "I am Hla. Just... Hla." They still spoke clearly, spoke well, but their words were staggered. It didn't necessarily feel right, but nothing really did right now. Everything just felt surreal.

After another small beat, his hand shifted to his shoulder. It ached with dull pain. Familiar. A strange comfort in this unfamiliar place.

"I am fine. Syr Josai helped heal my wounds." They tore open again during their escape, and he had to get them treated again. But he didn't need to mention that.

"...If I may ask, what does being Dawn sworn entail..? You are one of the first to speak to me here, and I've heard it said a few times now."
 
Although he couldn't see it, Lucero beamed at him. Hla, she echoed the name over and over in her head, not wanting to say it incorrectly. A foreign name to her tongue that first learned to speak in South Illica. She would have pulled a stool up to their cot, but trying to find one while they were in the middle of conversation would have been rude. Instead she leaned a hip against the table and continued to pet Moose's shaggy head. When he started to pant freely she knew he had finally relaxed enough.

"Hla is a nice name," Lucero said, trying it out. She thought she did a good job in saying it the way they did. Talking was one of the many steps needed to heal. She couldn't imagine what it was like to be part of the Sightless, only knew the horror stories and was a witness to the aftermath. But if he had left and been hunted then not speaking to him could only fortify any lies spoken within that horrid order.

"You can ask that, it's not a secret." Lucero hummed to herself for a moment, tilting her head to the side in careful consideration. Surely it wasn't a secret, right? "There are the two sanctums, Dawn and Dusk. When you become Knight Sworn or Field Sworn, the Captains choose what Sanctum you best belong into. I think usually it's based off of a squire's strongest pursuit and where they are more skillful. But also not always the pursuit because some are better with speaking and others with researching or inventing...." Lucero trailed off. Maybe she shouldn't speak too much about the pursuits, just in case, or how every squire got dabble in the five. She probably shouldn't mention that after the Pursuit of Life, her next best pursuit was Death. No one liked the sound of that. Then what else to talk about?

"Syr Josai is quite amazing, isn't she?" Moose's ears perked up at the name. Lucero ruffled her hand between them before giving a gentle pat-pat. The blind knight knew better than to say it was a good thing that Hla had come across them, worried it might be taken that another Knight might have left them behind. Probably, there were some whispers about once a Sightless always a Sightless. The division between the Knights must have been palpable to Hla, especially if no one was speaking to him, silence could be louder than words.

"Are you able to read, Hla? I could bring you a book to help pass the time. The Monastery has quite the library. I've been told there's picture books." Which would have done little good for Lucero despite her always being so curious about them.
 
"Nice..." They repeated quietly, uncertain of how they felt about the compliment. Perhaps before this all happened, he would have agreed. Perhaps now, he should feel a little more strange about that name being called nice. But instead, he just felt this strange void in his chest. There was something he should be feeling, many things, but he just felt empty.

He instead focused on listening to her explanation. It was genuinely interesting to him, and it was a nice distraction.

"I see," they finally spoke again after Lucero trailed off. "It all sounds quite well organized. Intuitive." He pondered what their pursuits could all be, and was considering how to ask, but paused as the subject was changed. Similar to the wolfhound, Hla too perked up as Josai was mentioned again.

"Yes," they chimed, both their voice and heart a little brighter. "She truly is. She had every reason to leave me to die or kill me herself, but... she chose to help me. I owe her a great debt." A small smile played on their lips as they spoke, in spite of their still confused heart. This kindness was strange and foreign, yes, but still something about the memory of it brought a smile to him.

At the woman's next question, Hla paused. They reached up to feel if perhaps they did leave their veil-blindfold on, something that obscured their eyes - or lack thereof. Skin, curls of hair, sunken in sockets, and no veil. Strange. Did she not notice..?

"I... am afraid I am - I was - Sightless not just in name." They paused to gauge her reaction, hoping he wasn't the one to break the news of his past to Lucero. When there wasn't a commotion in response, he continued. "When I was elevated to Seer many years ago, my eyes were carved from my skull in offering. I have no eyes to see with. But... I have a particular closeness with the Shroud, and that allows me to feel the world around me. It isn't quite the same as sight, but it allows me to navigate the world without issue." There was a brief pause. "There are some scripts I have been able to read in this way," they began a little more tentatively. "...but that was due to the ink being mixed with blood. And from what I understand, that is... not a normal practice outside of the Sightless."
 
Was that the wrong thing to compliment? Lucero could hear the tone, the thoughtful consideration and then the lack of cadence that seemed a little more lively than before. She wasn't sure if maybe the issue wasn't the compliment itself but just the fact that she had even done so. Lucero played with a piece of her hair, thinking about what would have been the better choice. Clearly, the better choice would have been not talking at all.

"That... that is right. I had forgotten about that." She blushed deeply from her embarrassment, still having the habit of using her hands to cover her face, leaving only her forehead and eyes unhidden. How stupid she could be? It was a rookie mistake, and if it were that, then it was unforgivable. "I'm so sorry, that was quite insensitive of me." It felt all the worse that Hla had corrected them, polite and kind, explaining things like a teacher did to a student.

Dignified, the word finally came to Lucero like the first drop of a storm. Lucero

"Ink mixed with blood, then...." Eyes squinted as she tried to pull out knowledge that she had buried long ago. "Then maybe you could read Syr Ziwi's Journal of a Prisoner, if it's called that. Syr Ziwi wrote many books, and this isn't quite a book, it's their journal of being a prisoner in the Arshakan Empire. A journal was snuck to them and the only way they could write anything was by using their blood."

Was Hla even a reader? Did anyone want to read while they recovered? Or was the suggestion still insensitive? Hands went back to brush through the length of her ponytail and Lucero smiled as if that might help some. Instead of reading, maybe something else would be best.

"Actually, maybe forget about the book. You can feel the shroud? How?" What was it like, she wanted to ask, curious if it was the same for Hla as it was for them.

Begrudgingly, upon realizing that Lucero wasn't leaving anytime soon, Moose laid down on the floor, taking up lots of space on the floor.
 
Hla listened and shook their head in response, a small smile on their face as they held a hand up. "You needn't apologize. You did nothing wrong." By the sound of her muffled voice, she seemed aghast. He tried to decipher the whether or not this was a normal response. The other Knights he met (or killed) tended to be a little... more firm? Confident? She seemed to get flustered quite easily. Was this perhaps more normal a temperament for the Dawn Sworn..?

Perhaps Hla was overthinking it, but to them, every little interaction was new. It was all a puzzle to him. People were a puzzle.

Hla was surprised to hear Syr Lucero actually have a suggestion. But of course, nothing written in blood would be for leisure. They perked up as they listened. He'd heard vaguely of the world around them - knew that the Sightless had captured some that fled from the Arshakan Empire, had used their battles as cover to take fresh sacrifices. But that was about all he knew.

But it seemed the poor girl was already walking her answer back. Hla paused for a moment, considered her mannerisms, her words. Focused on how the Shroud between them felt - stretched out like a web, trembling despite neither of them moving, as if she were a butterfly with one leg stuck on the spider's web. It wasn't quite the same as reading emotions, but rather how the Shroud reacted to her.

"...Actually," he began after a beat. "That book does sound quite interesting. I would very much like to learn of the world through another's... eyes." They let out a low chortle. "If you tell me the directions, I can find my way to the library, Syr Lucero. I don't wish to continue frightening you." It was an assumption, yes, but a safe one. Many of the Knights here were afraid of Hla, even if they hid it well.

What was more frightening than welcoming the enemy into your home, after all?

"To answer," they continued without missing a beat, unbothered at the idea that he was frightening but still wishing to answer her question. "To me, the Shroud is like another sense. An extension of my body. I can feel the beat of the wings of the birds that just took off from the window there, or the pacing of the Knight in the hall around the corner, or..." He tilted his head towards the exasperated hound. "...the heaviness of Moose as he laid down. It all bends and ripples the Shroud around me."
 
Learn of the world? Lucero was quick to pick up on those words. Two things came to her, the first being that Hla was not as closed minded as the Dawnling had assumed about all Sightless to be. Perhaps that was exactly why they could leave the cult, risk being chased and hunted. If so, what was the final reason that did it, that gave Hla the push they needed to leave? The last thought, and the faintest, was how Hla did seem unsure despite the steady cadence as they spoke. Lucero could easily brush it off as being stuck in an infirmary surrounded by people once called enemies, now turned saviors.

But even if they cared for Hla, Lucero wasn't sure she should tell Hla how to find the library. There was knowledge, secrets, it was mostly harmless if it were true that Hla needed blood painted on a page to read the thoughts of the author, but weren't there plenty of books with ink that were linked to alchemy?

There were also the books rewritten by Syr Cymbeline specifically for Lucero and Syr Noa. Lucero wasn't sure of the process but knew that Syr Cymbeline had painstakingly made these books for them. It took the sweet Cymbeline a whole year to rewrite one book into a format that the blind could read with just their fingers. The original books were never as heavy as their copies.

"I will bring them here," Lucero said quickly. "You do not frighten me. You... impress me."

Hla's sense of the Shroud was different than hers, and Lucero thought both sweetly and bitterly like burnt caramel that their abilities far surpassed hers. She bet her father would have been eager to know what the Sightless had done to accomplish such a thing, a gift, a breakthrough, the next thing to spur humanity forward into a great future. Meanwhile, Lucero was left as a failed experiment.

She absently wondered if her father still tried to find an fix to her current condition. He hadn't sent her any letters in recent times. It meant that he must have been failing more than succeeding, she was very much the same way, quick to isolate and focus on nothing but the task on hand. Lucero would bet everything she owned, not including Moose, that her father would come to visit if she told him about Hla, it would give him the hope he needed to come out of whatever slump he was in.

"Can you... feel me doing this?" She raised both arms above her head, waving her hands, fingers able to reach the twine above that a few bundles of herbs were hanging from. Moose lifted his head, giving Lucero a look many pets gave their owners as if they were the only normal ones in a room. Lucero wiggled her fingers a bit then stopped. "Wouldn't feeling everything all the time be exhausting? How do you even sleep?"
 
Hla paused at the quickness of her reply. Suspicion, he supposed. It made sense. He shouldn't be granted free roam of the halls; he was not deemed trustworthy yet. He didn't blame them. He didn't blame her.

He smiled. "Thank you. I would appreciate that very much."

Although... he cocked his head at her next words. "Oh..?" Not frightened? But she seemed so... anxious. Odd. He was not as surprised to hear he impressed her. That was how he got elevated to such a revered position in the Sightless so young, after all - that innate talent with weaving. But he was used to people complimenting him and his skill either in reverence, in fear, or to ask him for something. It was... strange hearing a compliment like this coming from outside the Sightless.

The movement of her hands triggered an instinctive twitch of his fingers as he almost grabbed his cane again... but quickly realized she was not weaving, nor going for a weapon. Just... reaching above her and waving her hands around. He could feel the faint sensations of the herbs above grazing her fingers. Then... wiggled her fingers? His head cocked the other way, much like a confused dog.

"I... can, yes... What are you doing, exactly? Just... waving?" He didn't speak in a condescending tone - not at all. It was... genuine confusion. Like the deva had never experienced an ounce of whimsy before.

They hummed and shook their head after a beat. "Would you say that seeing everything is exhausting? From what I remember when I still had sight, you learned to let things fade into the background. Your field of vision may encapsulate a wide scope, but you aren't looking at every single thing in that field at once. It is the same for me. This is a natural sense, to me. Just different than what most are accustomed to."

Their posture had eased some. Lucero wasn't actually acting like she was afraid, and she wasn't using that compliment to try and ask a favor of him yet... what was the reason she was speaking to them? Curiosity? It was strange. And despite those defenses always being up, always being wary... Hla found themself a bit more relaxed as they spoke.

"I can focus on it more or less when I need to. Less when I sleep. And sometimes, it slips my attention if I get distracted. I still run into branches or corners if I'm not careful."
 
"Incredible," Lucero breathed, she stopped the spazzing wiggling of her fingers, hands going back to her sides although one searched for the table to hold onto. "I was doing jazz hands, you know, that thing you do when you're doing a choreographed dance." Did the Sightless ever do such things? Lucero had thought joining the Monastery as a squire at the ripe age of fifteen that all she would ever know was sore muscles and hard work, and to some extent that had been true.

But she also learned of sharing shaved ice with lemon juice and sugar after training on the hottest summer day, all the squires with sweat-soaked tunics, sitting beneath the shade as the sun finally set after the long day which they were plenty grateful for before a friendly Knight took pity on them. A true hero, the real definition of a Knight in Shining Armor. Lucero had learned about the little word games to pass the time, to share and keep secrets whispered late at night, to lay awake at night because thinking about what tomorrow meant was too exciting.

She couldn't imagine such joy belonged in a place steeped with blood and pain. What did they do all day, did they ever have normal days or could they only think about preparing for their next evil deed or bloody sacrifice? Thoughts were quickly swept away when Hla produced their hypothetical. Another wave of awkwardness washed over Lucero, that was right, she hadn't mentioned she was blind.

And she could have earlier, but she hadn't. Why hadn't she? Now it was going to be awkward. She was being awkward. Did she announce it now? She rarely ever had to announce it, and whenever she had, there was always that awkward pause or a sheepish laugh or sometimes nothing at all but pity and relief. Poor thing, Lucero knew they thought, I'm glad I'm not like that.

"That's a good point you bring up, but, um, you see," No, Lucero, they couldn't see! "I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to see. I am sort of like you. I'm blind but I can see other things. Like... souls or ghosts or emotions. Sometimes mushrooms." If she tried really hard then she could see more, but it took her full concentration to the point she had to be very still. Being in a big city was hard, all the inanimate objects, barrels and boxes, storefronts and buildings, stairs and uneven roads, the very bane of her existence when she was trying to prove to others that she was fine and didn't need help.

"I can sometimes use the shroud to help widen my gaze," Lucero admitted. It wasn't constant, not the way Hla explained it. "But if the Shroud is weak then I'm just...." She trailed off, Hla would surely understand? Or perhaps they didn't, their sensory abilities far exceeded Lucero's, something that should have made her jealous but all she could do was smile at them and think about how it may be possible her as well, to feel the shroud so intensely and finally stop feeling so lost and helpless. Could she learn from them?

Moose sighed heavy as if knowing her thoughts, pulling Lucero back to reality. Asking something like that felt wrong, for many reasons. At least in this moment. Hla was recovering.

"Moose is quite good at leading me around so I don't bump into anything. Perhaps you can try taking a walk around here with Moose?" The large dog growled, he did not like being volunteered for extra work. Extra treats would be in order.
 
Hla's face twisted into pure confusion. Jazz... hands? "I.. am afraid I haven't experienced that before today. Perhaps the dances you perform ask for different things from gods different than mine." They paused, and staggered out a, "My... former... god. Apologies, I am... still growing accustomed to... my situation."

After a bit of a pause from Lucero, Hla listened quietly as she finally spoke. And the more she did, the more the deva leaned in, brows raising. Finally, he finally shifted from his place on the cot and delicately tossed his legs over the side, scooting closer towards the Knight. There was a small smile on their lips.

"You don't say!" His hand still rested close to his cane, just out of instinct. But still, he was fascinated. "Souls, ghosts, emotions... mushrooms is an interesting addition to that list. I can understand the connection between the first three - emotions are tied so closely to the self, and the soul is the true self. Ghosts, fragments of the soul trapped or lost. But mushrooms?"

He tilted his head again, then nodded slowly. "Interesting. That makes sense... It can be difficult to reach out further than what your sight normally encompasses. The strength of the Shroud can be a useful crutch, but if we find ourselves relying on it too much, then when that crutch isn't there or might crumble under our weight..." They rested a hand under their chin, tapping it thoughtfully. They seemed keen on analogies. "...I struggle with emotion. Only when it is so strong that it radiates off of someone, becomes its own disruption in the Shroud, that I'm able to tell. Otherwise, I cannot read emotions, or souls, or... mushrooms." They also seemed mildly fixated on that.

"For example, when I first met Syr Josai, I was overwhelmed by the immense, frigid, and deepset hatred and bloodlust I felt from her. Of course I do not blame her, and I did not then either. Were I myself from merely a day prior to our meeting, we would have been at each other's throats without hesitation. Ah, but after that, once I - asked for help, and she gave it... I could not read anything from her past that."

Again, there was a brief stutter - asking for help was hard. Admitting to asking for help was hard. So much was still so deeply ingrained in Hla.

"Sometimes it's sensations like the coldness of hatred. Sometimes it's the feeling of the Shroud, like threads, beneath our feet that only touch the soul. You have made these threads tremble like a bug caught in a web, despite saying I do not frighten you." This was all said softly, matter-of-factly. "Something frightens you." Hla had no concept of anxiety.

At the offer, Hla inclined their head towards the hound and paused. "I wouldn't want to take Moose from your side, Syr Lucero. He seems quite content where he is. But... if the two of you ever have spare time, and would not be opposed, I would appreciate the company on a walk."
 
Had Syr Josai truly felt like that? Lucero couldn't imagine it. Syr Josai was quite kind, as far as Lucero knew, she was always calm and collected, a steady force that didn't stray from their path. It didn't mean that Syr Josai couldn't get angry, anyone could, but bloodlust, really? Lucero wondered if she could have felt the same, seeing a Sightless. She only saw the destruction after the horror, if she experienced it while it was happening,

"I think it's because mushrooms grow from dead things, or something like that." Lucero added, unsure if the mention of the mushroom was too surreal or if maybe Hla really liked them? What did the Sightless eat? Surely nothing as delicious as the meals served at the Knoll. They might not have gotten meals as delicious as what Lucero was imagining if they were still in the infirmary, but how easy was friendship to blossom if food was shared? Mushrooms sautéed in butter could do the trick.

"I'm sorry. It's really not you, well, I mean, it's not only you. Speaking to new people frightens me," She said with a soft, sheepish chuckle. It was part of her duties, the talking, the soothing. "I keep saying things that are insensitive because I'm nervous." Because she wanted everyone to like her, even if they were ex-Sightless Seers, someone that should be the bane of her existence. Yet here they were, with Lucero creeping closer to Hla as if tiptoeing might hide her presence. A foot accidentally kicked against Moose's tail and he sighed dramatically once more.

"I'm a much better conversationalist after a drink or two." And was so everyone else. Moose began to get up, turning his big head from Hla to the door. A few squires entered, going to see their friend who rested in a bed far away from Lucero and Hla, it was easy to hear them talk about the accident that had taken place, a sweet old horse that had been spooked by nothing. One of the girls kept looking over at the Blind Knight and the Sightless Seer.

Lucero was close to Hla's bad and sat down at the very end of it, her legs pressed tightly together as she put her hands in her lap. Hla was really, really small. There was the slightest shape of horns growing out from their head, it made her wonder what could Hla be? She would have liked to known such a thing by sight alone, because now she was unsure if Hla was human. Was there another thing that could have them connect further?

"Sightless," Lucero heard the whisper from the bed opposite of them, all the squires surrounding the bed with their low heads, building unknowingly a protective wall around their injured friend. "Why even help them?" Lucero frowned, but was quiet. It was hard to argue with the sentiment, and the question wasn't offensive enough for them to be scolded.

"Right, then!" With a smile, Lucero was sitting up straight, raising her voice for the squires to hear. "We could learn from each other, Hla. Perhaps I help with the emotions and you can help me with... you know. And we can chat then, daily, unless I get sent on a job. I can't really say no to that."
 
"Oh? Speaking to new people?" Hla tilted their head back in thought. What a thing to fear. And to openly admit it, no less. They truly must live in different worlds if such a fear can be spoken of so openly with strangers. Was she not hesitant about this fear being used against her? Exposing a weakness so clearly? Willingly? ....was it a ploy? A distraction from the truth? ...no, that didn't seem right for this girl.

Fascinating.

"You are an interesting creature." He said with a soft chuckle. It wasn't intended to be condescending, though it may sound that way. He genuinely thought so. "Hm... since you have given me a fear of yours so openly, it is only a fair exchange that I give you one of mine as a show of faith." He clearly had a vastly different understanding of their conversation than the reality. He paused to think for but a moment with a soft hum.

"The truth," he finally said, in that same quietly confident tone he'd had their entire conversation. "I've found it to be the most terrifying concept as of late, yet, I seek to find it. The very notion haunts me, though." A pleasant smile. A flash flood of emotions below before it was swiftly suppressed. No change outside.

There was another gentle laugh at the mention of alcohol; the squires who entered did not seem near as pleased seeing the Seer smiling. "Ah, drink - I never liked the way it impaired my senses and dulled my sensibility. I only ever partook for rituals, never to get drunk." Nor did the squires like the mention of rituals.

Their words did not go unheard. Still, Hla smiled on as if he heard nothing. He could not blame them for their mistrust, and they did not speak falsely.

Hla shifted as Lucero sat at the edge of their bed, tilting his head to follow her and forcing himself to release his cane, hands folding in his lap.

"Oh?" There was a long pause. "You would... want to learn from me? And teach me?" His voice was softer, almost hesitant. "..Aren't you afraid?"

Hla was not an intimidating figure on his own. 5' even, soft features, an even softer voice... but there was a reason the Sightless were feared. The powers granted to their most loyal...

...the Seers, without their eyes, a small price to pay for the dark power granted them. The blood that soaked the very name of the Sightless. Their ruthless nature...

Hla was not a frightening figure on his own, but the title he once held, the blood on his hands, and the power he still held... that was plenty reason to frighten any single Knight there. Yet this woman was speaking plainly with him, sitting at the end of his bed, offering to teach him, to learn from him....

He didn't understand it at all. But then again, he still didn't understand why Josai helped him in the first place.
 
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