Chapter 68: Cross And Straw [17] Staring Like A Bisexual Horse

Under the luminescence of a crackling fire, a woman sat atop a makeshift bench. Her back rested against the grainy walls of the vast cave, raven eyes blank as she stared without stop.

The object of her fascination was, by chance, not an object at all! Instead, it was a human, a male at that. Art lay on the crimson fabric with his mouth slightly agape, eyes closed, expression marred with peace.

She had been staring at Leonidas for the better part of an hour. It wasn’t that she wanted to...even though she did, but more so that she had no other choice.

The cave was empty, devoid of anything worthy of catching her attention. The walls were the same way they had been an hour ago, and so was the floor. Only occasionally did she have to rekindle the fire, herding spirits of heat into the pit.

Her Mark working overtime.

It wasn’t a physically demanding task, nor was it especially taxing on the mind, but it was exhausting all the same.

And, by process of elimination, Art was the best thing to do...

That sounds weird.

Willow had to constantly remind herself to keep a straight face and not let the asshat see her expressions. She was just built like that, forged to be unmoving under the pressure of her family.

She had seen what happened to those who disobeyed, and unfortunately, Willow simply wasn’t strong enough to retaliate.

Not yet, at least.

Granted, she had a good head on her shoulders, and that head was already put to good use. Her plan was long since in motion, and the last thing she wanted to do was put Art in the throes of all the chaos that would follow.

She paused her thoughts, lips curling into a humorless smile.

When had she gotten this soft...to care about someone who was practically a stranger? Hell, she had spent more time with Barbossa and Rani than with Art himself.

Willow glanced at her wrist, where a delicate watch sat. It looked to be carved out of straight copper, its strap a shaded gray, while the main clock was deep bronze.

That was where the similarities with a normal wrist watch ended, as the inside of the clock contained a dozen hands, some tiny, while others were large.

It was a gift from Rani, after they had fallen from a tree and she had saved Rani.

Willow chuckled, remembering the memory with a certain fondness that seemed to melt the ice in her heart...yet even that could not bridge the cracks underneath.

Her gaze landed on Art again, drool dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice.

With a sigh, Willow walked over to Art, her steps silent. It was time to wake the sleeping beauty.

This will be fun.

Instead of directly waking him up, Willow first grabbed his pink longsword—a color unusual for men, as most preferred silver or black.

She held it for a moment, feeling its weight in her hands. The grip was soft, a little big for her hands, yet snug and comfortable. The blade itself was heavy, much more so than its size suggested.

"What a weird choice."

Even though she had muttered that, Willow understood his choice. With the center of gravity near the tip of the blade, it struck faster and harder than one with its center near the hilt, like her own sword.

And for Enlightened like them, a little more weight meant little.

Willow swung Blush, the blade carving through the air with a whistle. With each swing, she understood Art’s choice more and more, an idea making its way into her mind.

She would definitely try it later.

Willow set Blush back down, a little further down the cave, out of Art’s immediate vicinity.

Her mouth curved upwards, a brief moment of happiness, before it vanished.

She reached over and flicked his ear.

The reaction was immediate and utterly worth it. He lurched sideways off the crimson fabric, hand scrabbling for Blush—which was not where he had left—and then froze when his fingers found nothing but cave floor.

His eyes snapped open, a brilliant blue, vast like the ocean. His eyes moved like a frantic frog, darting around the room before he settled, more composed.

He gave her a long glance, irritation apparent.

"Why must you do this, Willow? Is it fun to torture me first thing in the morning? Aren’t you afraid I’ll blow off your head or something?" He paused. "...It is morning, right?"

"Good evening to you, too, Art! What a lovely day it is. As for your questions, yes. Annoying you is one of my favourite hobbies...alongside stabbing people. As for your other question...do you really think you can?"

A chilling smile made its way onto her divine face, metaphorical flames burning in her raven eyes. It was a silent challenge, much like the first time they had met each other.

Back then, the two of them had made thrones out of their abilities, a contest of control...one that Art had won.

Looking back on it, I was so immensely immature. How could I even do something so stupid?

Why had she even attacked Art in the first place? Because he was masquerading as a madman with a death wish?

Art’s voice broke her out of her reverie, a faint amusement present in his otherwise melodic voice. If she had to compare, it would be similar to that of a singer, only softer, gentler, as if he were embraced in a shroud of peace, a shroud that embraced everyone who heard his voice.

Yes, that was the feeling Willow got from Art.

I’m sure his Source Element is Bloom, but why does he resemble that damned God of Peace so much?

She had personally met Peace back in her first trial, on the first floor of heaven. In fact, she had met most of the gods who lived on the first floor of heaven. Contract, Peace, Hunger, Dream, and the divine couple, Love and Spite.

It always baffled her how two polar opposites managed to marry each other, how they managed to love each other to such a degree, but if there was one thing she had learned, it was that the 27 Gods were the weirdest bunch in existence.

"Willow."

Art spoke up suddenly, already fresh, hair tied behind his neck. It was long, nearly reaching his shoulders.

"Shouldn’t you cut that? Isn’t long hair annoying?"

He ignored her question entirely.

"Willow."

She sighed, then looked at him with annoyance.

"Yes, my dearest Art."

"Sleep."

Not saying anything more, Art grabbed the pile of cloth he had been resting his head on just a moment ago, and handed it to her.

When Willow just stared at him with a hint of surprise, he just shook his head, threw the fabric at her, and then went back to leaning against his side of the wall, Blush set beside him.

Is he...grumpy?

Was he really? Art had an exceptionally strong will and mind, and she knew with certainty that waking up a little early wouldn’t annoy him much. They both knew she needed sleep just as much as him.

As if noticing her stare, Art spoke up.

"Why are you staring at me like a bisexual horse? God forbid a man acts kind." He clicked his tongue in distaste. "Now go sleep before I knock the lights out of you."

Alas, Willow hadn’t heard his last statement, her mind too focused on the unusual insult.

Bisexual horse...is that even possible?

What in God’s good name went through that man’s head to think of a curse like that? Willow shivered in fear and disgust, unable to tell which was more prominent.

She should stay away from the fiend before she gets infected herself.

"O-okay...I’ll sleep, but please keep your...impressive vocabulary to yourself...please."

A heartfelt plea, one that was ignored! The fiend acted like he hadn’t heard anything, still leaning against the wall with a smile on his face...one frighteningly similar to her own.

Too much.

She grabbed the fabric, smoothed it over, and placed it upon the rough ground beneath her. Willow had slept a plethora of nights under far worse situations, as such a pillow wasn’t really needed, but she accepted it all the same.

Only a fool would reject comfort.

Her eyes were heavier than she had acknowledged.

"Art."

"Sleep, Willow."

It’s like talking to a damned wall!

How annoying it was, how very annoying.

She closed her eyes, a faint ripple passing through her mind before subsiding. The world slowly started tuning out. First, the sounds rampaging in her mind, soon after, followed by other sensations.

The last thing Willow heard was Art’s breathing, steady and far away, separated by a distance that felt too great under the weight of the darkness surrounding her.

Her breathing evened out, a final mumble leaving her lips before Willow was chased into the dreamy embrace of sleep.

"Good night, Art...sweet dreams."