Well, I'm glad I have met you then, my dear friend. A friend? The heat suddenly rushed to his white palette, much like a river does to it's delta. NeMO... had never been allowed the luxury of such a thing. It was unheard of. A knot lodged itself in his throat and he swallowed it down, hard. He should not be allowed to make home to such a thought. A friend, as it were, was a foreign concept to him. After he spoke his name, shivering a bit still from that knot that refused to go all the way down, she spoke again, and this time the young brujo strained his listeners forthwards, intent to hear her libretto once more. It is a pleasure to meet you, NeMO. However, I beg to differ. It really is a pleasure to have a name at all, wouldn't you say? It would be quicte hard to live in this world with someone calling you 'boy' or 'girl.' She had no idea. It was not as difficult as she may be thinking it to be. Someone can be called with a certain grunt if the tone is measured exactly the same each time. 'Boy' was exactly what he had gone by-- or 'bastard' more often than not. Everyone knew who that was. NeMO is a splendid name. He wasted no time in replying. That name had been given to him by the most precious creature he had ever laid eyes on, or had laid next to to comfort as the life was sucked out of her warm body. Clover, a project that had escaped from humans when she was young. Her words had comforted him since he had first stumbled into her care, and even now, his voice softened (as it often had when he had spoken with her) and his muscles relaxed somewhat. Aye, ma'am, that it is... that it is. Now the miss was scratching herself; perhaps it was not wise to stay in such a humid place as this... especially since spring was here, the bugs would just be starting to come out. He spoke again, to which she only nodded her head in acknowledgment.
And when he became brave enough to tell her that she looked of 'divine blood,' her body went through two changes. For a moment it appeared that she was going to laugh, and at this the young bastard lay his listeners against his crown, his russet portals lined with gray narrowing somewhat in defense... but she did not laugh. She transformed once more, going back to a serious look much like the one he himself wore. Only his was sharper, more stoic and definitely set in stone. Divine? I hope you mean normal. Because that is all I am. However, I do appreciate your compliment; you made my day. The boy's nostrils let out a breath of air that he hadn't even known he had been holding, and his stance returned to normal. Whatever. A gust of wind flew by the two, and for a brief moment, NeMO allowed his portals to stray in the direction it went, wondering if his mothers stories were true about spirits being the cause of natural phenomena. It was a childish thought though, and he snapped back to attention, surprised that he had even been given the time to think it in the first place. Well, NeMO. Would you mind telling me where we are? I do not recognize the feel of the place, let alone the smell. Where-- where they were? NeMO watched carefully as she rose to her feet, examining her. She was skinny; skinnier than he had first thought her to be, at least. Her legs were, up to the joint, covered in soot-- though that wasn't possible because the two were not in Blossom Field... were they her markings? His eyes went back up to her palette and he inhaled sharply. She was... blind..? That could be the only explanation as to why she had not realized that he was there, why her eyes did not exactly meet his own frame as it sat in the crusty grass next to one of the great large stones. Why she was asking where they were when it would be totally obvious to one such as himself.
NeMO was not a cruel soul. Nor was he sympathetic. He acknowledged her handicap, took it as merely a small difference between the two vargs as one might classify a difference such as gender and age, and he brushed it away. He would not bring it up. It would be unwise to do such a thing. So long as she didn't bring up his past, he wouldn't bring up her sight. It was a deal that NeMO silently made with himself-- after all, we all have our secrets... some are just more dangerous than others. We are at Sacred Stones, a graveyard for pillars of rock that stand three times higher than you do.
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