Foolish, she had been so foolish! Just looking at Devmond’s smile, hearing his silken voice qualmed all of her former fears. Could a man like him truly harm an innocent person? He seemed such a patient man, able to smile after Nilkayn’s rough handling, somehow calm after all the rudeness, the injuries. Erato saw no pride in his eyes, only the vulnerable gaze of the creature that had limped to her to be healed.
And yet, despite all that, Erato felt the scales above her left eye tingle as she moved closer. She paid little mind to the sensation, however, her eyes unable to cast away from the symenestra. The image of a fish no longer seemed to describe his appearance at all well, oh no. His dark hair was soft in the moonlight, his pale skin softer, and those honeyed eyes stood out from both with their brazen color. Perhaps he was something like a black swan, downy, elegant, graceful, calm. It was difficult to imagine ill intent from him, so injured as he was. Despite his cheer and calm, Erato struggled to believe that even he had taken lightly to the suspicious aggression that had forced him away from the camp.
Now that she did have time to take things in more slowly, Erato finally saw some discomfort in Devmond’s exposed form. It was a rather cool night, and while she had grown somewhat accustomed to cooler water, Devmond at least appeared to be a male who didn’t prefer such exposure. So as she came up beside him, she set down her lyre upon the grass and took her cloak in both hands, setting the thick fabric about his shoulders before settling herself down on the river’s bank.
“I was… worried for you.” Erato’s eyes fell momentarily on his shoulder, quickly falling down to the water. “Your company I welcome as well, and I do not wish to return to that camp. There is too much blood and too much noise… my place is here, with the river.”