Oh, I forgot to add as a note to the first chapter: Orland is on the character list for the Rune Factory category because I submitted him and the other second gen characters to the staff. Just a bit of trivia for those who care.


The soft sound of calm, measured footsteps crunching through the fallen leaves was echoed by another pair as Barrett and his silent follower traveled to Cherry Blossom Square in the northwest part of town. He didn't look back once, already aware of the person responsible for breaking his solitude and not particularly caring because she didn't say a word. Dorothy was never one for talking, because she could barely manage to greet others as her stutter forced her to clamp her mouth shut in embarrassment. Such a weakness was irrelevant when you kept company with one who refuses to talk unless spoken to, so they were perfectly silent together. When this silence was threatened, Barrett was entirely surprised the culprit was Dorothy.

". . . Barrett . . . ?"

He started, completely caught off guard by her sudden whisper and stiffening at the thought of conversation. He let her hang unanswered for several heartbeats, knowing he was giving her a scare but not yet able to grasp the concept of her starting a conversation, before he finally swallowed the anxious lump in his throat and mumbled a tentative reply. "Yes?" The autumn leaves falling lazily to the ground swirled around them as if to emphasize the momentous event that was happening: Dorothy and Barrett actually attempting conversation.

He heard cloth shifting against cloth beside him, giving away her nervous shuffling, and then she offered more quiet–almost incoherent–words. "I-is . . . is it weird that I . . . d-don't show my face?" The question was given in a way that he knew she wouldn't dislike him if he didn't answer, but it would be a serious blow to her already fragile self-esteem. She had been steadily gaining confidence for a while, after Kyle had first coaxed her name out, but it was teetering dangerously over the edge of inadequacy. One wrong move, and all of her progress would be wasted. He already regretted answering her in the first place, not wanting to be responsible for such a devastating result–he didn't enjoy others' pain.

He struggled for a way to avoid hurting her while simultaneously giving her an honest answer, but the best he could come up with was giving her a question of his own. It was something that had been eating away at him for as long as he could remember, back when they were toddlers and her doll was still fluffy and new. He was curious whether she would answer him or not. "Why do you hide it?"

"I-I . . ." Dorothy stopped, and he assumed she had clammed up once more, but then she surprised him again by struggling to overcome her awkwardness and continue the conversation. She had matured a lot in the past few months. "I-I get nervous . . . if people look me in the eyes."

He glanced over momentarily to see her head bowed, as if she was hiding her face even now, and he found her reasoning bizarre. Having someone stare at you could be unnerving, yes, but keeping eye-contact was proof of the attention you were holding, which was a good thing if he remembered correctly. It was also a display of equality–that might have been her problem. Dorothy's low self-esteem may have caused her to avoid others' gazes because she didn't feel she was worthy of keeping eye-contact, and it could have evolved into a full-blown phobia. Was she really so scared of someone staring at her? He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you really get so scared?"

Her answer was delayed, and when he received it, her tone gave away her shame and embarrassment. "Y-yes . . . I'm afraid." He could only hope her lip wasn't quivering, because at the angle her face was turned from him and with the added protection of her hood and bangs, he couldn't see if she was going to cry. He mentally groaned, not wanting her to cry. I don't like other people's pain. She continued quietly, "I-I think someone m-might laugh at me . . ."

"Why would . . ." He stopped, trying to consider her unique situation. She was a reserved individual who was afraid of criticism, and any sign of negativity from people caused her to shy away and withdraw into her protective shell like a turtle. Even something as trivial as finding a smudge on her shirt could lower someone's opinion of her–or so she thought–so she avoided seeing the disapproval in others' eyes by avoiding their gazes altogether. She was cautious with opening her heart to others, and yet . . . where did that leave him? "Are you afraid of . . . me?"

She inhaled sharply at the question, letting out a soft, "Oh . . ." He could imagine her biting her lip anxiously as she searched her feelings, and he waited patiently for her response. There was no reason to rush her when he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to hear the answer himself. He didn't know when he started to care about her opinion of him, but it was suddenly apparent that he didn't want her to fear him. He tried to appear relaxed even as he gripped his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palm and waited, patient and reluctant for her response. It wasn't as if he tried to make her feel comfortable around him, but he was suddenly conscious of how indifferent and distant he had been to her–and how she might have taken his actions as disgust or dislike. "I . . . n-not afraid, no . . ."

Barrett gritted his teeth, telling himself to stop even as he questioned her further. "Do you think I'd laugh at you?"

"N-no." He was relieved by her answer, but almost immediately afterward she confused him with a quiet, "W-well, I've never . . . heard you laugh . . ."

He gave a small huff. Is that the only reason? "Do you think I'm that bad of a person?"

Dorothy suddenly whirled around and answered forcefully, startling him with her vigor. "N-no!" She then paused, as if she had surprised even herself by her outburst, and the quiet and meek Dorothy he was familiar with was quick to return. "O-of course not . . . I'm sorry if I . . ." She couldn't properly finish her sentence, and she shook her head as if to try to shake away the shyness she was working so hard to overcome.

Still a bit shocked by her shout, Barrett mulled over several things: Her self-esteem issues, her long bangs, her normally quiet voice. All of it covered her in a protective blanket from others, and yet two of those three barriers had been removed as her confidence slowly grew. He felt she still needed assistance in overcoming the last obstacle in her journey towards self-confidence, and that he might hold the key. Swallowing anxiously and blocking out the voice in his head screaming for him to shut his mouth, he studied Dorothy hugging her doll tightly for comfort as she stood nervously before him. He wet his lips in an attempt to make the next words easier to speak, but found it barely helped as he muttered, "Could I . . . see?"

Her arms tightened around the doll, causing it to deflate slightly, and she stuttered in surprise, "See . . . m-my face?" At his confirmation, she made an interesting sound somewhere between a choke and whimper as she contemplated his sudden request. "I-I . . . y-you want . . . see m-my . . ."

Although Barrett was slightly amused by her astonishment, he didn't want to stand there waiting for much longer. Not only was it making him tense uncomfortably, but Kyle was due any moment now to try to talk to him, and he'd rather not have an audience–and neither would she. He cleared his throat softly in hopes she would make her decision and go through with it. Her embarrassed stammers stopped, and for a second he thought she was going to politely refuse his request, but then she raised a shaky hand from her doll to begin slowly lifting her bangs. He hold his breath in anticipation, wondering if there was another darker reason she kept her face covered, but when he could see her entirely he found he was at a loss of what to say. His mouth hung open without a single word to utter, and he found himself staring at her in an improper manner. He would've punched himself if he knew that he was doing it, but the only thing he could think was, she's not like what I expected.

She quickly grew uncomfortable with his gaze and dropped her hair back down, but for a split-second their eyes had met and held each others' in silence, and it was an immense accomplishment. She bowed her head and hugged her doll again, probably trying to recover from what must have been a frightening experience. Her heart was most likely hammering away in her chest, and he could even see the hot blush creeping onto her face from between strands of hair. He felt his own face heat up, and he quickly turned away to try to hide his own embarrassment as he recuperated from the shock. After nearly a minute of awkward silence stretching between them, Dorothy once again surprised him by breaking it with another tentative question: "I-is it . . . bad?"

"N-no." He mentally scowled at his stutter and cleared his throat to eliminate the weakness in his voice. "No, it's not bad. It's . . . nice." And that was the closest he would allow himself to complimenting her, but it seemed to be enough to make her splutter once more. As she tried and failed to protest to his comment, he closed his eyes and envisioned her face once more in his mind. He was completely blown away by the surprise and had to wonder why she would cover up her face if she looked that pretty. Her self-esteem still needs working on. Letting himself sink into thought for a while, he finally interrupted her stammering with one last question. "Am I the only one . . . ?"

She easily figured out what he meant and quietly answered, "Y-yes . . . p-please, don't tell anyone else! I-it . . . it c-could be our secret."

"Our secret," he repeated, mulling over the idea thoughtfully before nodding his head. It's not as if anyone will ask, anyways . . . but I do enjoy being the only witness. He tried to ignore the blush that reappeared on his face whenever he thought of what Dorothy looked like behind her bangs, and he ignored Kyle's attempts at conversation when the redhead walked up a few minutes later. He instead focused his attention on the quiet girl beside him, wondering what it would take to get her to show him her face more often.