They walked back along the forest path dappled with sunlight. Eliot carried the gathered herbs bundled in cloth, while Celia followed slightly behind, her gaze lowered. The blush still coloring her cheeks spoke less of fatigue than of the lingering awkwardness she couldn't seem to shake.
"Sure this will be enough?" Eliot asked, glancing back over his shoulder.
Celia nodded, carefully avoiding direct eye contact as she replied:
"More than enough. I know how to use every one of these herbs..."
"That much is obvious," he said, then added more quietly after a pause: "You... look so at peace when you're working."
She briefly raised her eyes to his, then quickly looked away, murmuring in embarrassment:
"I'm just doing what I know..." Back at the house, Celia set to work immediately. Under Shoko's watchful eye, she prepared a thick salve - the kitchen filling with the aroma of herbs. When Celia carefully applied it to Shoko's aching knee, the older woman noted with surprise:
"It doesn't sting at all!"
Later, when things had settled, Eliot found a moment to suggest: "We could go to town... Show you the square, the market stalls... Just... walk around."
Celia seemed momentarily startled, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away again, flustered.
"I... if it won't seem suspicious..." she mumbled.
"No," Shoko interjected. "If you heal this well, people will be glad to see you. Just don't stay out too late." Eliot nodded. "I promise. I'll be right with her."
The city square greeted them with noise, the scent of fried apples, pine-tar soap, bay leaves, and street dust swirling in the air. Merchants called out loudly, children darted about with ribbons, and adults haggled over the price of fish. Celia froze in place, surveying it all with barely concealed wonder. "There's... so much here," she whispered. "Yeah," Eliot smirked. "Welcome to civilization."
He guided her past stalls - one selling glossy apples, another honey cakes. Celia studied each with quiet intensity, holding herself carefully as if afraid to reach out.
"You can try some," Eliot said, noticing her gaze lingering on the apples. "My treat." She began to refuse, but he'd already pressed a coin into the vendor's hand and passed her a warm, sugar-glazed apple.
"...Thank you," she murmured, offering a restrained smile.
They retreated to a shaded bench at the square's edge. People streamed past, the din never ceasing, yet between them settled a peculiar, comfortable calm. Celia watched the crowd before confessing, haltingly: "I never thought I'd just... walk down a street. Unafraid."
"Because you still are afraid," Eliot said, earnest. "But you're stronger than you know."
When she turned to him, their eyes met, hers widening slightly, that faint blush returning. She looked away.
Then, without thinking, Eliot brushed his hand over her hair - light, fleeting, as if to say "You did really well." Celia went very still. A tremor passed through her before her face flamed crimson. For a heartbeat, she couldn't even lift her gaze.
"Umm..." she managed. "Why...?" Eliot flushed too, withdrawing. "Sorry. I just... You looked like you could use the praise." Her laugh was quiet, disarmed but warm.
"You're the strangest person I've ever met."
"Maybe," he shrugged. "But you're still here."
Celia lowered her eyes... but didn't pull away.