Issa’s blatant curiously was endearing, if not jarring. In Lec’s culture, that elated expression, the elevated tone of his voice, the giddiness so clearly flowing throughout his entire body; those were things only ever seen on children. It wasn’t proper for an adult to display such enthusiasm in public, so the appreciation Issa was showing for the layout of this city—and the thought of more, even further beyond his forest—seemed off. Yet, as Lec watched him, they realized there was another reason that smile was so misplaced.
This creature was a thing of legend, of warnings whispered to misbehaving children. How many times had Lec been told by schoolteachers, their father, close friends, that if they didn’t behave, they would be stolen away by some Lucet of the night, doomed to be slashed apart and made a meal for the enemy’s kin? They, like most people in their city, had grown up hearing tales of ferocious eyes, of overeager hunters without restraint, a race of not-humans so lost to their primal instincts that they would never again know reason. Issa was one of them. But, as he bounced towards the market on feet that couldn’t get him there fast enough, Lec could not make the connection. This was no monster. This was a boy trapped in the vicious caricature Lec’s people had made for him.
Issa pulled them out of their thoughts with the suggestion of new clothes. They would certainly help the Lucet to not be stared at while in the city, at least not by anyone who didn’t catch his gaze. But what would he wear? Lec’s eyes trailed the man, mentally measuring the bulge of his shoulders, the width of his waist. Outfit ideas flashed through their mind. A smile tugged at their lips as they imagined Issa in one of their outfits, an outfit meant for a dancer. Lec was smaller, they guessed, thinner in some places and thicker in others. If Issa would be staying around long, Lec might even make him an outfit, adorned in gems and earth tones, perfectly fitting his body, displaying his muscles.
Breaking from their distraction again, Lec cleared their throat. “Yeah, we could—” But Issa wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. Lec followed his gaze, expecting a tragedy in the market square from Issa’s fixation, but there was nothing there. Townspeople scurried along buying fresh meats and produce, others talked with vendors about furniture pieces or tools, children ran through maze-like legs of their parents and aunts and uncles. The food vendors were facing the midday meal rush, and the smell of smoked, fried, and baked meats filled the air. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, Lec turned back to Issa, thoroughly confused.
Lec didn’t know how to respond to his question. They had said they were going to the marketplace, right? Lec glanced back at the square before turning their attention back to Issa. “Yes?” they answered. “But please, don’t… make a scene, okay?” Already people were noticing the two, a red-eyed predator lingering on the outskirts of the market with a washed-up dancer, two misfits in the center of town. Lec shifted awkwardly, trying to think of ways to hide Issa’s eyes before they got them both killed. “Here,” Lec said, holding their hand out in front of them. “Hold my hand. I don’t want you to get lost, and I see tourists do it all the time here. It’ll be easier this way.”
Was Lec offering their hand to the enemy? Why? Doubts shrouded their logic, trying to convince them that soon their palms would be impaled by some claw. Just as quickly, Lec could summon a spark, a small flame, to keep the Lucet in check. So why did the suggestion—their suggestion—send a quiver through their arm? They shook their thoughts; now was not the time to be so childish.
Once Issa took their hand, they began to walk forward. “The market is organized by goods,” they explained, motioning with their free hand to a collection of stands on the perimeter of the square. “Food items are along the edges. There are snacks in the front, while the groceries are in the back. Off in that part, there’s the sewn stuff, so clothes and blankets, tapestries. Tools are over there, behind the furnace, and that’s where the smith shapes metals for things.” As Lec explained, they watched Issa, but they also watched the people around them. Countless double-takes, all gazing at those same scarlets. Lec, a dancer by profession, suddenly hated the attention.
They went on to explain the entire layout of the market before taking Issa to the food stalls. “Why don’t you pick something out?” they suggested. “I can cover it. Consider it… a treat. A welcome to Evimaire.” Lec scanned the stands, eyeing the sweets and baked goods. Their stomach rumbled at the sight of the things they shouldn’t have, and they looked away. “Where do you want to go after this? I’ve been here hundreds of times, so you should pick.”
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