Lured by Temptation (Seven)

[Palla]

Palla watched Seven intently, taking in his each and every word, allowing them to simmer in her mind. Some of the things he said escaped her at times, but she knew he would not let her stay confused. Locks of messy red hair shaded the smattering of freckles across her cheeks as she tilted her head to the side. She had questions, and she knew by now that all she had to do was ask for answers. ”What’s market?” She piped in. ”And what’s dress? Is it important to look nice? Is it what two-leggeds have to look?”

How many moons had it been since she’d met this crimson-eyed man? It seemed like each and every day, he was teaching her something new. There were days that she wished she was back outside of the city, wandering around and chasing bugs. She still left occasionally to do so, but this two-legged had sparked something strange in her. She had never met anyone or found anything that she had any sort of special attachment to. No belongings, no family to her knowledge. Two-leggeds were scary, odd beasts that she had always sought to avoid. Palla wrapped the coat tighter around her body as a gust of winter-chilled air seemingly split her skin. She looked around, peaking through the branches of the tree.

”How are we going to get out of here? It was hard enough to find the tree.” Doubt crept through the tone of her voice, but she hoped he wouldn’t assume she had no faith in him. Without him, she surely would have panicked at being lost in the strange garden. With Seven here, she felt safer, more at ease. Just knowing that he was looking out for her and trying to help her fit in with his two-legged people was enough to bring a smile to her face.

[Seven Xu]

“Market is where two-leggeds get food, and clothes, and lots of other things we need—or want. It’s usually crowded, and loud, and it smells.” Seven’s eyes flickered over Palla; wrapped in his wool jacket, she’d managed to gain some bulk. Beneath, she was skin over bones, and dirty as the day she’d come from the foothills, but her thick mane of red was as rich as any sunset, as tangled and riddled with dirt as it was. He’d stopped seeing Roxanne in her wide, curious eyes, though every so often he could not help but wonder if the raccoon had been as hungry to learn something new when she stumbled out of the Wager on Victor’s arm that night. Seven shuddered.

The hedge maze had lurched into movement again, and this time, a long, narrow corridor that ended in familiar cobblestone spelled freedom for a fool and his ginger-haired accomplice. “Come on,” he grunted tersely, sliding from the tree with Palla’s wrist grasped firmly in a white hand.

To any passerby, the Garden of No Return may as well have spat out a pair of skinny Alvads, as Palla narrowly missed another shift that swallowed up their path, like a surging wave would a rickety pier. Seven was panting, but smiling, as he straightened, glancing over his shoulder at a wall of ivy and thick bush.

“As I was saying,” he cleared his throat, fussed with the collar of his jacket around Palla’s neck, “Looking nice is not necessary, but I would like you to wear something when you’re on two legs, even if it’s my clothing.” He could not possibly compare an animal’s tastes to his sisters’ preference on fashion, he realized; a thin smile crept back over his lips. “I think you look nice when you’re happy, so let’s do what makes you happy.”

[Palla]

It was with a wide smile that Palla followed the pale crimson-eyed man down the tree and out of the maze. A sigh of relief seeped past her nostrils. Seven's words perplexed her as always, what with his talk of the two-leggeds and their expectations and aspirations. Every day he taught her something new, and though the majority of it made no sense at all to the animal, she took every detail to heart. She was striving to retain all of the information and put it to proper use. How strange, though, that the meeting of this animal and pale man would result in such a drastic change in her. Never before had she cared for these creatures. The shrouded their bodies in cloths and metals, they pinned their hairs back, they put their food over fires before eating them. It was beyond her understanding, but this was what Seven was. A two-legged. And if it helped or pleased him to see her become like them, she wanted what he wanted.

As he fumbled around with the piece of jacket around her neck, Palla watched him work. The wool coat practically swallowed her twiggy frame, but it housed warmth almost as well as her russet fur.

She said, "I like when you're happy, too! If wearing cloths will make you happy, it'll make me happy." She considered for a moment the array of things she had seen Seven wear just in the short amount of time they had known one another. So many different possibilities! It could be fun to try the different styles and see which he liked best on her. "I think this will be fun." The little ginger smiled and stood on her tiptoes to touch the tip of her tongue to Seven's nose, a gesture of endearment.

[Seven Xu]

Her breath smelled of sticky peaches. Seven laughed discomfiting pink from his cheeks, and he turned from her. “Don’t do that near Victor,” he laced white fingers between pink and freckled ones, long enough to give the girl a tug in the right direction before drifting away. “He’d get all out of sorts about you licking my face. It’s bad enough now, with you clawing at our window.” It sounded true enough to fool an animal.

Palla was made of wool and gangly legs, and her halfblood was willow wrapped in linen. They walked with a purpose that lacked direction, four feet scraping playfully at narrow flagstone streets. Seven had thought to make a game of chasing Palla’s toes, leaping at bare and wriggling pink with the worn and soft soles of his boots until she danced around him in a fit of breathless laughter. They were both out red-faced and panting, when the Bizarre loomed into view.

“Come on,” he urged, the remnants of a grin lingering in a wide smile on his lips. “Stay close.”

Seven’s simpering mien turned to a flurry of black hair, when he turned; he led his Kelvic through the mass of shuffling feet and bargaining faces, none of which could possibly have been familiar. Once in a while, Seven would glance over his shoulder, reach for a familiar arm or clumsily cup a handful of red tresses around an ear, and shout something above the maddening din of a thousand voices in a small room. He could only hope in vain that his words reached his student’s ears.

[Palla]

As Palla followed her bondmate, she gazed around the busy marketplace, in awe and amusement. So many things, so many people! She had never seen so many two-leggeds crowded together in one place before. It was exciting, but scary. The bond between the animal and her mentor brought ease to her anxiety, though, and she was enjoying their little adventure. The Kelvic girl paid close attention when he shouted or tugged at her fluffy mane or arm. His words became lost in the voices of those surrounding them. Fearing losing him, she groped for his waist, clamping to his sides for security.

Standing on her tiptoes as she followed him, she asked in his ear ”Where did all of these people come from? I’ve never seen so many in one place! Is this normal? Where did all of these things come from? I don’t know what most of it is! Is that okay? Will you teach me more?” Her words came frantically, not of nervousness, but out of excitement. It was going to be a pleasant day, a real treat after the misadventure in the garden.

[Seven Xu]

“Palla.” A hand swept over the kelvic’s mouth, effectively silencing her. “Hush.”

The Bizarre was a flood of senses that threatened to swallow even those hardened by civilization, but to a girl born of the wild, it could be nothing short of mystifying. Men and women of every shape, color, and size exchanged and bartered and debated their materialism. They pored over items from the ordinary to the anomalous, unsheathed countless glimmering stacks of gold and silver-rims from folds in their garments. They tested, they tasted; they pawned, and they profited.

Seven released pouting lips on good judgment and hooked a skinny arm in his own. “The people come from Alvadas,” he crooned, “Or from across the sea, or over the mountains. They bring things with them to sell, or to trade. Some foreigners stay for a few days, others longer.” Seven’s shoulders rose and fell. He tried to remember what the girl knew, or could know, about him. “I was from over the mountains—and across the sea. Now, I’m from Alvadas.”

They stopped at a sprawling display of bread, as if a bakery had turned on its side and spilled its contents onto the table before them. There was only chaos, loaves and rolls and pastries mingling in a sea of half-burnt beige. “Pick something,” he nodded toward the pile, before loosing the knot their elbows had tied to rifle though his pocket for a pair of bronze-rims, one of which landed in Palla’s palm. It was warm, a comforting oddity. “This is how it works: you pick something, and then you pay the merchant with this. It’s a miza. They get you what you want.”

[Palla]

Palla’s mouth shut abruptly at the command, something like a trained dog. Her eyes darted around. Had she said something wrong? So many people, and two ears for each of them! Her gaze floated back to Seven’s as he released her. Intently, she listened, honing her attention on him and only him. When they stopped before the bread display, she gawked. So many different colors, shapes, sizes, smells. Her nostrils worked like that of a rabbit, flaring as she took in the scents. It was impossible to know which came from which loaf.

Seven dropped his elbow, untangling it from the crook of her own. He laid on her the responsibility of holding the little piece of metal, miza, and choosing a bread from the stand. She looked at her bondmate nervously. Communicating with Seven, even Victor, was one thing. Stranger two-leggeds? Oh dear.

Swallowing, Palla inspected the loaves, craning her neck to see them all. She turned back to him for reassurance before running over the communication skills he had taught her. Please, and thank you, and have a nice day. Was that right, or was it the other way around? Her eyebrows furrowed, and she spotted a golden croissant. It was crescent-shaped, and reminded her of the moon. With a slightly trembling finger, she pointed to the flakey moon bread and looked to the merchant. ”Uhm, I – I would like one of those, there.” She paused and added with emphasis, ”Please.” With her other hand, she held out the bronze-rimmed coin for the merchant to take.

[Seven Xu]

“And I’ll take a second,” Seven’s bronze-rim followed the kelvic’s, and he scooped another crescent roll from the stack. “Come, Palla.”

They were linked again, more out of necessity than desire, fingers locked together with knuckles and sweat. Seven lead his skin-changing companion through a sea of unfamiliarity, its current so strong against them one would think they were going in the wrong direction. “You’re so skittish,” he remarked, more from observation than judgment. Seven hesitated, lifted his shoulders, and dismissed the thought, glancing over his shoulder to offer half a smile. “You did well. I’m proud of you.”

Seven stopped so abruptly at a silk tent, the link between man and kelvic slackened and he felt a startled nose press his back. “Look.” It was the magic word, delivered on a hushed tone—without direction, but his aim clear. The tent was propped up by thin poles nearly two stories high, and made of countless layers of thin silk, ranging from deep crimson to pink to orange and pale yellow. Seven pushed back a low hanging swath of air-light fabric, and the tent swallowed them both.

Inside, looms and bolts and racks littered the floor. Two waiflike girls worked tirelessly through narrow lanes. One stopped to nod a greeting at the pair, two which Seven replied with his own, before taking a mouthful of his flaky crescent roll. The girl advanced, head tilted, hands clasped together as she worked a cordial bow to the redhead and her snowy counterpart.

“I can help you?”

A hand found the small of Palla’s back and nudged. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured into a mess of rusty hair, “I’m right behind you.”

[Palla]

If Palla had had her furry russet ears, they would have pointed happily to the sky with the knowledge that she had successfully completed her mentor’s task. She twittered as she followed Seven, his praise ringing in her ears, the sweetest of sounds. ”Seven, what’s skittish?” It was what he had called her, and it was followed by the praise. It had to be a good thing.

As the two journeyed through the market, they came upon the silk tent. Palla gazed up, marveling at the sight. The colors drew her in, making her feel warm and as fuzzy inside as she was outside. In the pair went, and she found herself unable to focus on any one thing in particular. So many different smells, so many patterns, so many… Well, things! She felt herself tremble excitedly, and it wasn’t until she was nudged that her attention was turned to the girl addressing her. With Seven’s reassuring whisper, she swallowed and nodded her head. ”I – uhm – yes, please.” Though with what exactly, she couldn’t exactly be sure. Was this where clothes came in? Is that what she was looking for? Nodding her head nervously, she said, ”I’m not sure what I’m looking for…”

The lovely colors made Palla’s head whirl excitedly. She hummed as she crossed her arms uncomfortably, shifting her weight. ”Is there something you have here that would be easy for me to put on and take off?” That was her primary concern. The concept of clothing escaped her quite a bit, but she knew one thing for certain: Buttons were the evil little rocks of the two-legged world. She could never get them through the holes like Victor and Seven could. She hated them, and had no desire to ever attempt to fasten another one as long as she lived. ”Something without those things, the little things, buttons.”

[Seven Xu]

The girl looked of an age with Palla—at least, what Palla took to as her two-legged mask—with dark bouncing curls that framed her slight face and rippled down her back. She listened to Palla intently, a deliberate smile keeping her lips from twisting, her brow from rising. “Without buttons, the little things,” she repeated slowly, walking the line of incredulous, “Yes, we have dresses. Dresses with ties, not buttons.”

“A dress she could slip on would be ideal,” Seven intervened, exchanging a brief glance with his red-headed companion.

She bowed her head with a gracious smile, and dipped beyond a gathering of neatly stacked bolts of linen cloth. Seven murmured some unheard word of endearment, placed a hand against Palla’s shoulder, and cleared his throat. The girl returned, cradling something long and orange and made of soft cotton. She lifted and turned it upright, holding it by two thin shoulder straps. The simple cotton shift was nearly as vibrant as Palla’s nest of hair, and it was so long there was no doubt it would dust the ground wherever the diminutive kelvic walked.

It’s perfect. Seven grinned, eyes darting between the gift and his friend. “What do you think, Palla?”