The hardened gaze of her friend’s smile was met by a very different reaction. While Ren went on to ask further questions about resting, one specific thunderous cry that dominated the discord of wind-carried roars caused Devlin to shutter violently. The already paled tints of her complexion faded to white, her eyes tightened as if in view a ghost, and her chest expanded sharply as images of her childhood friends, her parents, family, and the former glory of her home town of Despiun flashed across the screen of her mind. She remembered –

Devlin wasn’t aware it was happening; her stony expression was compromised. While conforming to the joyous smile of that little child she used to be, her fingers extended to touch the hand of Ren while her lips parted to release the smooth, rasped quality of her voice;

“Don’t let the Hechin scare you….” She consoled the musician, as the smile then ran from her face. “Sounds like someone disrespected the forest.”

While the distant roars faded with the winds for the moment, she regarded the dawning sky, then looked down at the street below where the Lamplighter was already starting his morning rounds. Returning her focus to Ren, she said;

“It’s later than I thought. No point in resting now. We’ll eat then start our journey. What time do the market food stalls open?”

Devlin’s aversion to social interaction wasn’t so much a callous or deliberate decision, more a conditioning of her inherent wounds and dearth experience in social matters. No point in the maimed partaking in a footrace with the enabled. Nevertheless, her social infirmity did little to serve as a barrier to the feelings of desolation. She did, though rarely self-evident, have a full range of human emotions, which could be the reason why she let her guard down with Ren. In a way his disabilities were commensurate to her own and provided a sense of affiliation. It was, in this regard, a convenient opportunity to find union with another.

While she quietly followed Ren’s tour, her mind was at play with many prospects this unprecedented relationship could facilitate. Companionship, intimacy, even intercourse were all things she had previously waived as possibilities. The idea that these things were now even conceivable provided her a whole new spectrum of intriguing thoughts to set her attention on; a sundry diversion from her primary directive in life…. At least for a while.

When Ren drew back his habit and ran his fingers though his long, matted hair, she was reminded of the fleeting arousal she felt back in his room at the church. There it was again, and somehow, for reasons aloof, the rugged mat of his hair and the scars on his hands and face seemed to accentuate the feeling. This sensual sensation, however, had Devlin more confused than anything else.

Stop that!

She almost spat out the words, and the notion of her rebuke would have gone unnoticed beneath her calm exterior had it not been for a slight, widening glare, conflicted by an unconscious moistening of her lips, and the faint pink hue that blushed her cheeks.

Her lack of control over these feelings was disturbing to say the least. She couldn’t even look Ren in the eye while he went on to convey his sentiments, but she did spit out a small and unexpected laugh at the humor behind his silent words. Unfortunately, this laugh may have been seen as more of a snooty derision as she turned away abruptly, yanked the hood over her head, and marched over to the nearest merchant.

“Bread, butter and honey!” She practically growled the words at the full-figured lady behind the stand. Realizing her uncalled for delivery, Devlin took a moment to breathe and compose herself, then repeated the order in a more congenial manner.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” The lady replied kindly, apparently taking no offence to Devlin’s ornery attitude as she waved one hand over her product. “This is a fruit stand.”

Realizing her flustered condition had compromised her basic ability to pay attention to the obvious, Devlin grit her teeth as she pivoted, found a merchant selling a variety of goods better suiting her needs, and then marched over to that stand instead. The owner of this stand was a slender, tall man with dark sunken eyes and lips that seemed far too full for his face.

“Two slices of bread, buttered with honey.” She said, producing a small Sapphire from her pocket and offering it to him.

The man accepted the stone, turning it with peculiar interest in the palm of his hand before lifting a lamented look to her. “I have no chan –“

“I want no change.” She interrupted, and directed her eyes at the requested items. “I only want what I asked for. Servings for two people…. Please.”

Again, the man’s eyes fell to the gem in his hand, scrutinizing it for a minute before shrugging with a brightening smile and proceeded to prepare her order. While he did so, a small group of merchants within earshot of both Devlin and Ren – previously discussing the matter of the stolen gold – were now engaged in a different discussion; speaking despairingly about a terrible crime that may have taken place in one of the taverns during the night. Apparently, if only upheld by the rumor alone, a guard and a barman by the name of Queno had been gruesomely murdered by a yet unidentified assailant.

It was probably inevitable that Ren would find out about Queno’s death eventually, but Devlin had hoped to avoid the issue as long as possible. Despite Queno’s less than sympathetic interaction with Ren, the young musician had somehow still regarded the stout little man with an obvious amount of esteem, and it was therefore doubtful that news of his death would be taken lightly. It was even possible that discovering what had happened to Queno would subsequently cause a rift between herself and Ren. This new and unexpected friendship she had stumbled upon… could have very well been murdered before it ever really got started.

Still, considering the slight possibility that perhaps Ren wasn’t overhearing the conversation taking place nearby, Devlin took her order from the merchant and turned from the food stand to face her friend. Looking out from the hood with her usual impassive persona and fresh honeyed bread presented neatly in both open hands, she offered him a slice.

“Hungry?”