Private Tales Some Dogs Think Their Name is No

[Clemente]

Clem looked between the two women in the room, a blissfully dumb look on his face: a smile too wide, eyes too much alight with jovial goodness, cheeks starting to grow sore from being raised up so high. It was then that he realized the gesture the girl made.

“You can’t talk?” He exclaimed, shock written on his face. “But you understand what I’m saying just fine!”

“Deaf doesn’t mean mute,” Hana scolded gently, but the smile on her round and rosy face hardly matched the stern tone. She stepped forward, wiping her hands on a green checkered apron and checked her hands. She sucked air in through her teeth seeing the dirt forever crusted underneath her nails. She still held a hand out for the girl to take and with a easy shrug of her shoulders, added in a quick, “unfortunately my hands always seem to get dirty without me noticing it. It’s good quality dirt though.”

“Very good quality,” Clem parroted, his face beet red as he tried to figure out just how he should come back from his most recent blunder. Hana gave Clem a look, raising a brow as she leaned back, placing her thick hands on her wide hips. “I mean, to say, well, flowers need good care and good soil and….” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel Hana’s gaze looking him over and realized much too late that she was looking at the patches of sweat underneath his arms.

Clem quickly brought his arm back down, now as stiff as a board. Hanae sighed in exasperation and held up her hands as if wondering how on Arethil this boy before her was somehow supposed to be a man.

“Well, you don’t ever bring anyone with you here. Hot day outside, hm?” Clem gave one quick nod and a nervous chuckle. “I’ll get together something cold to drink. You and… Clem, you know her name, don’t you?” If Clem could have gotten redder, he did right then.

“O-of course!” He lied, looking away from the girl with no name. “It’s… uh… it’s Violet, actually. That’s why we were looking at these flowers.” Hana gave him a hard look and Clem couldn’t look her back in her eyes.

“Right.” She said slowly, giving him time to fess him. A second or two passed. “Well, I’ll be back.” She turned on her heel to disappear back to where she had came from and stopped, looking over her shoulder at Clemente. “And if I come back and her name has suddenly changed to Rose or Iris or Clover, well, Anireth help you, Clem.” And with that final promise, Hana left the two of them alone.

“I think she likes you.” Clemente pipped up after a moment.

The Girl with no name

 

[Violette]

'You can’t talk?'

He didn't know?.. She hadn't spoken a single word to him in the time they'd spent together already.. had he thought her simply quiet?

She squinted an apologetic look at him, her fingers wringing together at the sight of his shocked expression. It was the first time in a long time she wished she could speak, but wishing had never done her any good. She seemed to wait for his back to turn on her, only because she knew he wouldn't raise a hand to her for being so useless. Her chest tightened at the thought of him leaving, though, and she noted it.

The woman didn't seem to mind at all, and the mute girl felt only minor hesitance before reaching to take the offered hand. It was difficult to feel afraid of someone who radiated such warmth as she did. She had never, in fact, known anyone who did. The girl offered a small smile as the woman excused her dirty hands, and she shook her head. Dirt didn't bother her, not given that she'd spent a life in the virtual bowels of a city. At least this dirt smelled nice.

Azure eyes panned back to Clemente as he fumbled over his words.. He wasn't leaving, nor was he angry, but seemed his usual bashful self. She looked between the pair with a bewildered smile, though any semblance of comfort drained from her features as he was quizzed on her name. Even if she could speak, or write, even if he had ever asked her that question, she'd have had no answer, and here even the flowers had names. How did she even begin to 'explain' why she---

'It's Violet actually......'
Violet.

The word, the sound of such a pretty name caused her expression to pause as her attention shot to him and she simply stared. Was... He allowed to do that? It, made her a person, almost. It felt far too precious to belong to her, and the thought that it could caused her eyes to glisten with tears.That he felt she was worthy of such a name.... The handlers wouldn't ever agree to such things as calling her by the name of a flower. They prefered uglier and more terrible things. She wouldn't be allowed to keep it, but right now, she didn't care. She wanted it, and just like the meal he'd bought for her, she took it with a warm smile.

Her glassy eyes fell to the delicate violet flowers she'd been admiring before, and her cheeks warmed slightly as she looked back at Clem. Alone, she went to him and reached without hesitation to take his hand into both of hers and squeeze her thanks against his palm. Another smile toward the flowers, and a nod to the guard, and she was Violet.

 

[Clemente]

It was a moment that would have gone unnoticed by Clemente if it weren’t for her eyes that were as expressive as the highest form of language. He had been more worried about her being upset for him making up a name, with some minor worry over her thinking him to be dumb to not realize that she was mute.

Yet as she took his hand, smiling at him with a look that had to be how someone looked at their own hand and knew it was theirs, Clemente realized he wasn’t in trouble. Yes, he had perhaps tripped over the situation but he hadn’t completely fallen off track. His gaze went to his hand in hers and then back up at her eyes.

“Violet.” He repeated and then he too smiled as well. There was something about the name that suited her, wasn’t there? Something that he couldn’t touch or see, but knew was there. It was all the more powerful, being shared only between the two of them.

“So is she still Violet or did you change it to Jasmine?” As if at the worst time possible, and knowing this was the worst time possible, Hana returned with a small tray that held two ceramic cups and pitcher with a liquid that was reminiscent of fall.

“It’s Violette.” Clem said with more certainty, not drawing his hand away from both of hers even as Hana gave them both a pointed look.

“Roasted barley tea.” Hana then beamed and shook the glass pitcher, the lemon halves inside clinging against the glass. “The frozen lemons make it chilly. It’ll cool you both down.”

Violette

 

[Violette]

His hand was warm. There had been long stretches of time during the winter months where she had been so cold she was certain she'd freeze to death. Her hands and feet had ached so terribly, and even now that she wasn't cold at all, she couldn't help but enjoy the warmth of Clemente's hand that she now housed within hers. Such an odd thing, to hold a hand, but she had held his more than once already and had decided now that she rather liked it.

She flinched though, when Hana spoke, as though she had done something that she shouldn't have. Reluctantly, she released his hand and stepped back, turning toward the florist as she did. Her lips curled into a soft, bashful smile as she nodded her confirmation that she was now a person with a beautiful name.

'Violette'....

Clem seemed able to make it sound as pretty and delicate as the flower he'd stolen it from, and something in her chest seemed to flutter with a nervous excitement that made her cheeks flush with the faintest of pinks.

Roasted barley tea... She had no idea what that was, only that it sounded as lovely as everything else did up here in this place that was fabled to be far more terrible than below. Violette gave a small smile in thanks as Hana decanted some of said tea and offered it to her and she took a hesitant sip, her eyes briefly widening.

It was cold, and yet the flavour was warm, and also sour and yet, sweet. She drank more, apparently still surprised by the drink. This world was so.... bright.

Violette could damn well get used to it.

 

[Clemente]

Hana was rather surprised to see how quickly Violette went through her drink. Immediately she gave a disapproving look to Clemente.

“The poor girl’s thirsty, Clem.” She scolded lightly. “You need to take a lady’s needs into consideration. You can’t just have her walking all around Vel Anir without letting her rest. Here, here, have some more.” She promptly handed Violette the cup she had just poured for Clem. Clemente could only meekly nod his head in agreement. He almost wanted to tell Hana that Violette was a sort of gourmand, that no matter what she ate, she did so with such vigor and delight that it could make someone just watching her enjoy their own food more.

He wasn’t sure if that would have the effect he wanted so he stayed quiet, instead thinking back to how her hand had felt holding his. His ears were warm even if the heat in his cheeks had begun to crawl away. He felt that prickling anxiety, asking himself if his hands had always been this clammy and if it had been clammy when she held his hands.

“You see, Clem has never really had a girlfriend before. The girls don’t really like him because he—“

“I’d like to buy her some flowers.” Clem practically shouted. Hana sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You been hanging around those guardsmen too long, Clemente George Laurier. Don’t. Interrupt. Women. When. They’re. Talking.”

“Y-yes, of c-course. Ha ha. S-silly me!” Clemente tried to chuckle as he ignored the fact that his full name was used. The hand was back on the back of his neck, rubbing furiously. Hana looked over at Violette and gave her a warm smile.

“You have a lot of work cut out for you, don’t you? I promise, he’s a good man. You whip him into shape a little bit and he’ll be the sort of husband to not argue with you when you cover the kitchen table with flowers and no dinner ready.” Hana drank from her own cup. “All I have are daughters and I told them all to marry a man who doesn’t tell you—”

“Maybe some violets? With asters and primroses?” Clemente interjected again, now far more embarrassed that husband and marriages were being talked about. It was their first date! Hana couldn’t talk about such things so early.

“Clem, I am talking. And with violets you want to….” Hana paused. “Well, you’re right about the asters and primroses.” She set her cup down. “Right, you two have other plans. I’m holding you two up. I’ll get something small started.” She fixed Clem with another look. “And if it’s too heavy for her to carry, you better start carrying it.” Then to Violette she added, “if he doesn’t, come and tell me. I’ll set him straight for you.”

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette licked tea from her lips and accepted the second cup with a silent laugh, her eyes warm with thanks before her gaze shifted back to Clem over the rim of her cup with something like amusement at Hana's scolding. She lowered the cup after another long sip, her head tilting as Hana mentioned girlfriends, but the small smile that had began to curl at her lips fell apart as she jolted and gaped at Clem's declaration.

She turned to him, her slender brows arching... Clemente George Laurier, wanted to buy flowers, for her?.. Why?...

Her teary eyes were crushed sapphire as she stared at him, her expression bewildered and her chest aching as though a hand had curled its fingers around it and squeezed. He'd bought her the first real meal she'd ever eaten, he'd defended her, he hadn't seemed to care at all about what she was, he'd named her after the prettiest of flowers and now he wanted to buy some for her. He was the kindest most wonderful person she'd ever met, and she wished she could tell him that.

Hana was making clearly him more flustered with each word she spoke, and she had been about to reach out in reassurance when the woman mentioned that he might one day be her husband, and it was time for Violette to fluster. Her cheeks burned and her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers curling into her palms. What a ridiculous assumption that anyone would ever consider marrying her. Such bonds were fairytale to her, not meant for her, and she fully expected Clemente George Laurier to be lividly insulted by such a notion. Of course, Hana would surely never have made such comments had she seen the pointed tips of the ears she kept hidden.

She looked up as Hana spoke to her, forcing a smile and nodding her response, but she couldn't bring herself to look at Clem right now, only the door as she considered bolting straight through it.

 

[Clemente]

It was easy to distract Hana in putting together a bouquet of flowers. Clemente appreciated the distraction himself when it came to offering his opinion on the floral arrangement. Sometimes Hana would shush him, other times she would agree. Regardless, the red-faced guard was quick and sly in his brief glances in Violette’s direction, but he too was much to embarrassed by Hana’s words to let anything last more than a fraction of a second.

“Right, now look at this.” Hana had a eye for color and the shape of the flowers themselves. Clemente wasn’t sure she had ever created something so pretty before. The stems had been cut perfectly so that the flowers seemed to truly come from the greenery around them, and small accent flowers helped to enhance just how bright the violets and asters were with primroses contrasting the darkness with a lighter, brighter hue. It wasn’t the biggest bouquet, but the size hardly mattered when the simple act of harmonious colors spoke more than size could. It made Clem think how much he liked Violette’s eyes, the color far more interesting than the grand expanse of sky above them.

Hana finished wrapping all the stems together before handing it to Clem.

“On the house.” Hana said. “Well, almost. You can come in tomorrow to help me with the soil, right?” Clem nodded his head. Once a month he helped in the shop by doing all of the heavy lifting. Clemente took the bouquet, appreciating the beauty before turning around to show Violette.

“What do you think, Violette?” He asked, handing it out for her to take. “It smells good, too.” Hana had been smart with the evening primrose, instead of overly floral, there was a sweet scent akin to fruit.

Violette

 

[Violette]

She was glad of the distraction Hana offered with her flower arranging. That people up here had such pretty jobs felt quite surreal, and she found herself wondering about such things meant for human people with no power to exploit. It was difficult not to feel a little jealous, but Hana was too kind and lovely to conjure any malice in Violette's mind.

Aware of the strange static between she had Clem, she spared him a few awkward side-glances beneath her hood, her throat clearing as she rocked slowly back and forth from heels to toes, watching the bouquet come to life. Perhaps Hana did have some power. She certainly made things beautiful..

Her gaze drifted back to Clem as the gift was passed over, and her lips twisted into a shy smile as he held them out toward her. Violette stepped forward and reached to take the flowers, drawing them close to her face to breathe in the floral scents. Gods, she wanted to smell like this forever.

The beaming smile she gave was an expression she wasn't quite sure she'd ever used before, only because it felt physically strange to her, as though her face wasn't used to wearing such happiness. She held the flowers to her, and stepping boldly close to him, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back again and dropping her gaze with a nod.

They were beautiful.

 

[Clemente]

The soft press of her lips against his cheek had Clem stiffen as if she had delivered a slap instead. It was far more powerful than any punch he had taken that caused his body to betray him faster than getting the wind knocked out from his chest. Somehow she had gotten him deep in his chest, his heart rate increasing exponentially as red colored his cheeks and ears.

Clemente gasped for air, forgetting to breathe and it somehow turned into a nervous chuckle.

“I think she likes them,” Hana said, smirking at the two of them. “As expected.” The brag made Clem, already giddy with Violette’s display of gratitude, continue his laughter. When he thought it had gone on for too long, he cleared his throat and gingerly placed his fingertips on Violette’s elbow.

“Of course, I mean, it’s really great work, Hana, thank you.” He couldn’t stop smiling. He must look like a silly fool. He didn’t care if his cheeks hurt, instead he smiled wider because of it. “We really ought to get going, though.” Hana waved them off.

“Well, off you little lovebirds go then.” Hana turned then turned back. “Make sure you get her home at a reasonable time, Clem. If her parents hate you, you have no chance.” Clem’s smile faltered then. Hana went to collect the cups they had used, already beginning to clean up. The bell on the door rang and a group of young women entered. With two of his fingertips faintly on her elbow, he guided Violette out the store just as he heard Hana greeting the new set of customers.

“I hope that wasn’t too much.” He said sheepishly. “But I promise you the next part is more… private. N-not because I want to get you alone.” Clem quickly added, “I’m not a scoundrel. I just thought we could get to know each other a b-better. Not physica— ah, you know what, I’ll just shut up now.”

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette tilted her head slightly, studying Clem's animated response to Hana's teasing. She couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest at the display of his genuine happiness. His laughter was infectious, and even though he tried to stifle it, the joy in his eyes remained.

As Hana continued her banter, playfully referring to them as "little lovebirds," Violette's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink beneath her hood. The idea seemed so foreign, so beyond anything she had ever experienced. Yet, there was a flutter of something in her chest.

She smiled to Hana in a way she hoped conveyed her gratitude, thinking little of her comment about parents.
The touch of his fingers on her elbow felt like a grounding connection, and she appreciated the gentleness with which he guided her out of the flower shop and into the ambient city sounds that enveloped them once more.

Outside, Violette gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes holding a silent appreciation for the kindness he had shown her. As he spoke, trying to explain himself and assure her that he had honorable intentions, she chuckled silently at his adorable nervousness. There was something comforting about the way he stumbled over his words, and there was a softness in her crystalline eyes as she watched him fondly and reached out to touch his arm lightly in a gesture of reassurance, her head shaking. Of course she didn't think him a scoundrel.

As they stepped back into the city's lively rhythm, Violette's senses were alive with the scents and sounds of Vel Anir, her flowers held protectively against her chest as she casually hooked her free hand around the crook of his elbow with a warm smile and a nod.

Lets go.

 

[Clemente]

He kept his head forward, a giddy stride that was soon straightened from the confidence of her tender touch. Leading Violette through the bustling streets of a city he often patrolled had the young guard facing a mixture of emotions, some boyish and some more wizened. The curve in Clem's lips didn't falter, and with more confidence than he had before, he took the woman at his side on the more quiet, less crowded streets.

The drum of hooves along clods and stone, dissonant barking and clucking of hens, and even the melding of voices, both male and female, young and old, all melted into a symphony that was soon a quiet hum in both their ears. With less excitement from the main street, Clemente felt words come back to his mouth as if the noise from everyone else had clogged his throat.

This time, there was no pressure to speak. In their solitude, Clem matched his stride with hers, smaller steps, slower speed. He had no desire to run from his superiors and peers, nor had the desire to keep Violette in shadowed alleys. They walked along this road together, at their own pace, letting strangers pass them by or straggle behind them.

"Your wrist seems better." He eyed the soft fingers nestled into his best tunic, wondering if the fabric scratched the pale digits. "After we parted, I worried that maybe more needed to be done."

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette sighed, visibly appreciating the quieter streets, her sensitive, pointed ears keenly attuned to the cacophony of the city. She could still hear it all, of course, but it was far less of an assault. The keen sense had often been a source of discomfort, picking up every sound, every whisper, every cry and scream that echoed through the under city. So strange it was to hear nothing but the scurry of rats there, now.

She was still admiring her flowers when Clem's question dragged her from her thoughts, and she glanced down at her wrist, flexing her fingers as she recalled the tenderness she'd felt not too long ago. With a small, reassuring smile, she looked back at Clem and nodded, her expression warm and grateful as she patted at his arm. Thanks to you.

She studied his face for a moment, her expression a blend of curiosity and gratitude. Gently, she slipped her hand back into his, her slender fingers threading through his with a natural ease, the warmth of his palm comforting.

As they walked, Violette's eyes flitted around, taking in the quieter, less crowded streets. She marveled at the simplicity of the neighborhood, the way the buildings stood tall yet inviting, their stone and wood exteriors exuding a sense of history and permanence. It was clear that she had never walked these streets before, that everything up here was still so strange to her.

Her curiosity grew with each step. Where was he taking her? She trusted him, but couldn't help the flutter of anticipation in her chest. With a soft squeeze of his hand, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his for any hint of their destination.

 

[Clemente]

Holding another's hand gently brought a warmth that was subtle when he thought of it as just a touch. His mind brought forth images and old sayings. Blackberry season as a boy, the wonder of staring up at the clouds and making shapes, the way a dog's wet nose felt against his face. It was the beginning of something special; he could feel that throughout his whole body.

It wasn't just a touch of warmth, but the warmth that came from being touched. Her slender hand in his big, clumsy one touched his heart in a way that he had yet to experience truly. Clemente hadn't known that something as simple as holding hands could elate him to such heights beyond the white, fluffy clouds overhead.

He had another big, goofy grin plastered on his face. He hadn't even felt his cheeks rising as he looked into the ethereal blues of her eyes. He missed their turn and had to turn them back around, using all his might not to stare at her again. At least not until they came to a ladder.

"Ladies first." He said, eyes sparkling until realization dawned on him. "I'm not going to look up! The surprise is up there, on the roof. I promise I'll turn away as you climb up." True to his word, Clem turned his back to the ladder, adamant to stare at a stray chicken who was more interested in a pebble than the grasshopper only a foot away.

The wooden ladder was heavy with thick wooden rungs that had many years of wear and tear. It leaned against a building that belonged to a family who owned a general store that had been in their family for four generations. They had connections all over Liadin with merchants and farmers, and they boasted that they were the first to sell saffron even today. Clem had helped the youngest shy granddaughters, Daisy and Lily, get a cat out of a tree and a pup back in their home. He watched out for the girls on their way to school and back home-- which often earned him a free meal.

It also granted him the opportunity to set up a picnic on their rooftop garden. While this was far more utilitarian than Hana's flower shop, the neat rows of herbs were filled with their own scents. Some were bitter, some sweet, but all of them were green and healthy. Large ceramic pots of different shapes and colors were placed systematically along the perimeter to give privacy and visual splendor. A coarse blanket was laid out, partially under the small fruit trees in large pots that were wider than Clem's shoulders and as tall as the length of his legs. No fruit hung from there, but sweet-smelling, white blooms could be seen between the verdant leaves.

A wicker basket filled with what Clem hoped would be enough food for the both of them. His boots clomped up the ladder and he poked his head over the lip of the third-floor balcony turned rooftop garden.

"No one can find us up here," he said before climbing all the way up. When he straightened, he looked around the small, secluded space before turning to Violette once more. "A little... handmade heaven."

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette chuckled softly at Clem's flustered attempt to reassure her, his earnestness endearing and charming in equal measure. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, setting her flowers down before stepping toward the ladder without a hint of hesitation. The old wooden rungs felt sturdy beneath her hands and feet as she climbed, her anticipation growing with each step.

As she reached the top, her breath caught in her throat. The rooftop garden was a hidden paradise, an oasis of green amidst the city's stone and wood. The scents of various herbs mingled in the air, creating a fragrance that was both earthy and refreshing. So far was it from the smells she had long endured below the city.

Standing there, looking at the perfect setting and out over the rooftops, Violette felt a surge of emotions she couldn't quite name. She had never been this high up before. From here, she could even see beyond the city's confines—the rolling hills, the distant trees and mountains, and even the smaller villages and towns scattered across the landscape. It was so stark a contrast to the cold, dark, and dank environment of the city underneath the city where she had spent so much of her life.

The sight of the hills and the expanse of nature beyond the city walls filled her with a sense of freedom she had never known. Turning her attention back to the rooftop garden, Violette's gaze settled on the blanket spread out and the wicker basket filled with food. It was clear how much thought and effort Clem had put into this, and the realisation made her heart swell with even more emotion. He'd done this for her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back, but the overwhelming happiness and gratitude she felt were too much to contain. A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and another, and she made no move to wipe them away. She turned to Clem as he joined her, her eyes glistening with tears but her smile radiant and grateful. She placed a hand over her heart, then extended it outward in a silent gesture of appreciation, hoping he would understand.

 

[Clemente]

When she turned towards him with tears in her eyes, Clem thought that he had made a mistake. Was she afraid of heights? Was she allergic to the garlic that was flowering in a pot beside them, or maybe the general pollen from the trees around them? He had held up his hands, ready to apologize and to make it up to her before noticing that despite her tears, she was smiling. She placed a hand over her heart and then reached it out towards him.

He went to her, took her hand, and squeezed it. He looked down at her with a smile of his own, closed-lip and nervous, but as genuine as hers. There were no words that had to be shared between them, somehow, their hearts were able to communicate just fine without them.

"I'm glad you like it." Clem said. He had little money and little time, and while he thought how wonderful it would be to do what he heard some of the guys doing, and perhaps wished he could have done to begin with, had decided to do something different. Violette was different and so deserved something that suited her-- something that suited them. "Here I'll light the candles, you make yourself comfortable." He led them to the blanket, bent down on one knee and opened the basket.

He pulled out two candle handles with two skinny wax candles that had already been used. He had a match and easily lit them both before he pulled out the main dish of the evening. He showed her the crispy layer of mashed potatoes on top, a little darker than golden but at least he hadn't burnt it.

"I'm not a very good cook but cottage pie is hard to mess up. I think." He set it down between them, took out wooden plates and spoons. "There's peas and carrots and onion... no corn, unfortunately. Which is a shame, I think you'd like corn." Clem looked up from his masterpiece to Violette. "If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it. We could just skip ahead right onto dessert."

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette nodded quickly, eagerly, as Clem understood only that she 'liked' it. She didn't just like it. Even if she could speak, she doubted she could put into words just how much she adored and appreciated his gesture. All of his gestures. She couldn't understand why he had thought to do any of the things he had done for her already—the silent, abomination of a girl with pointed ears who could give him nothing in return. But he had, and she knew now that there was kindness in this world and that she had found it.

She squeezed his hand and turned to sit herself down on the blanket, her eyes warm with a smile as she peeked into the basket. Her brows lifted as he proudly presented the meal he'd cooked for her. Her teeth latched onto her lower lip in anticipation, fingertips drumming on her knees. Oh, she was certain she'd love it; everything up here was so.. wonderful.

Dessert? Her head tilted slightly in curiosity.

Gratefully, she took the offered plate of food and brought it to her nose to savour the smell. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, already enjoying the meal before she'd even taken her first bite. But that first bite ignited the same delight in her eyes that Clem had managed to spark several times now. Her lips curled into a smile as she chewed, and she nodded her approval at him, her expression radiating happiness and gratitude.

 

[Clemente]

If Clem had more foresight, he might have thought about how to keep the pie warm, as everyone knew that it tasted better when hot or, at the very least, warm. Yet, he had no idea that it had gone cold by Violette's beaming face. He forgot about trying his dish. Instead, he daydreamed of learning how to cook and prepare her meals. He thought about discovering her likes, dislikes, favorites, and even her most hated vegetables.

His mother had an excellent roast recipe; even their neighbors drooled at the smell when she cooked it yearly to celebrate. This led down to another rabbit hole of daydreams involving Violette going back home with him to meet his mother and the two of them getting along splendidly-- because, of course, they would get along splendidly. Satisfied with his fantasies, he took his first bite and paled upon the realization that the dish was cold.

Clem glanced over to Violette, seeing her plate almost empty. Yes, she'd get along with his mother when she was kind enough to eat a cold dish to please him. He cleared his throat.

"I have to ask, you know, because we're alone, and I hope you understand, but... You understand what I'm saying, so you must know trade tongue, but why can't you speak? Are you mute, or is it something else?" His blue gaze went to her hood, looking towards where her ears would be. Had a curse or spell been put on her-- as punishment or because some found joy in being cruel? And if it was a spell or a curse, was there a way to remove it? If she went to Elbion, could she find help there?

Violette

 

[Violette]

Violette stared at him for a moment, mid-chew. Slowly, she swallowed, her gaze crushed sapphire as it grew distant with thought. When had she stopped speaking? She recalled vaguely how her much younger voice had sounded, though she tried not to think about it. She was from a far darker place than that of pretty flowers and picnics on rooftops, and she did not wish to spoil such lovely things with such terrible memories.

She set the plate down and nodded. Yes, she understood. Her fingertips rose to her throat and she opened her mouth, as though attempting to say something, though no sound escaped her and she shook her head with a shrug. I can't remember how..

Silence had just been easier. There had been pain, much of it, but there was always a little less when she'd just learned to stay silent.

 

[Clemente]

His eyes followed her movements, from the delicate whisper touch of fingertips gliding along a slender throat to the spread of her lips and the hint of white teeth. When she shook her head and shrugged, Clem nodded in silent understanding. He was not sure how one could forget, how she could listen and comprehend, and yet no words could come out of her thoughts. Perhaps a curse would have been more straightforward, not because breaking curses was easy but because the work required to break a curse was nothing like what Violette now suffered from.

A malady from a lonesome existence, one that Clemente wouldn't be able to understand.

"That's okay." He said once the silence between them had stretched long enough that he knew he ought to say something now unless he wanted her to worry that he was thinking poorly about her situation. "I don't mind the silence. Sometimes it's nice." He grinned wide, pink cheeks raising high along his long face. " And, anyhow, I talk enough for the both of us." Clem gestured to her plate. "Would you like more, or is it time for dessert?"

Violette