As the frantic thrumming in his veins gave way to a dull throb behind his eyes, Bruno looked up from the dusty ground to find Cecilia still with him.
She was just sitting next to him, an arm's length away, and picking at the few stray weeds that dared to grow in the paddock.
He took a moment to observe the woman she had grown into.
Cecilia hadn't grown any taller in over ten years, but her skin had warmed to a light sienna and her shoulders and arms seemed larger. More muscular. Her hair was pin-straight, longer than he remembered, but still unbound around her shoulders.
It was darker now too, the dark blonde nearly brown at her roots, bleached nearly white at the tips from sun exposure.
Her eyes were still that vivid shade of green that could stop a person in their tracks.
Bruno felt like they were the eyes of a predator.
Her eyes pinned him in place when she lifted her head to peer at him.
"You feeling any better?" Cecilia asked quietly. Her brow was furrowed in concern and there was a slight pout on her lips, like a guilty child trying to prolong a trip home after rolling in the mud. "Do you normally look so dead after having a vision or was it the… weird turn things took?"
Bruno shook his head slowly, trying not to jostle his brain too much. "This is normal. Usually I don't have the chance to actually feel the effects until later - most of the time I'm trying to calm someone down… or avoid a fist."
Cecilia clenched her jaw, a muscle ticking in her cheek, then bared her teeth in a mockery of a grin. "People try to hit you?"
Bruno eyed her warily, scooting away as subtly as he could manage.
Her face was scary.
"Not always." he admitted hesitantly. "Mostly they just yell. But some people don't take the news of unfaithful spouses or disobedient children well."
"Well, some people need to learn to pay attention to what's in front of them." Cecilia huffed, ripping the stalks of grass in her hands to pieces. "It's not your fault those things happen."
"No." Bruno agreed, relaxing slightly. A weird smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It felt weird to have someone outside of his family on his side. "After all, it's not me the women are leaving their husbands for."
Cecilia grinned a little at that, reaching out a foot to nudge Bruno with. "What - you're not the Casanova type? No herds of ladies chasing the only Madrigal boy down for an unchaperoned walk?"
Bruno snorted a surprised laugh at the very idea.
"Not a chance!" he snickered. "Most women only want me for my powers these days - or to tell them where your boyfriend is hanging out so they can go bother him. Oh, Bruno! Can you tell me when Amaro will come in my store so I can trip into his arms? Oh, will Amaro be stunned by my new dress and terrible dancing? Bruno, does Amaro sleep in the nude and conveniently leave his bedroom window open?"
Cecilia had made a face when Bruno referred to Amaro as her boyfriend, but shrieked with laughter at his falsetto voice and impersonation of the girls who came to him seeking love predictions.
Her father looked similarly amused as he returned with a small crate in hand, watching the younger pair with thoughtful eyes.
Bruno felt his grin slip and he shrank back into himself under that unnerving gaze.
Señor Echevarría's eyes were just as piercing as his daughter's.
Bruno never felt more exposed than he did before them - not even his family looked at him like that. Like he was made of glass and they could see inside all of his hidden corners.
Cecilia looked at Bruno with new curiosity.
Señor Echevarría looked at him like he was a puzzle piece that took time to place into a larger picture.
Bruno couldn't decide which one made him more nervous. They both frightened him.
"Here you go, kid. Your mamá's usual order and then some." Señor Echevarría dropped the crate into Bruno's lap with a slight grin and little effort.
The prophet grunted at the weight, hiding a wince when the crate proved heavier than it seemed.
Deceptive strength was another thing Cecilia shared with her father.
Cecilia peered into the open crate with a low whistle. "That's a lot of paper."
Bruno grimaced at the contents: piles of thick cardstock, inks, pens and sealing wax.
"It's for the engagement," he explained. "Agustín is about to propose to Julieta any day now - they're just having trouble getting the dinner date set. Mamá just wants to be ready."
He kept his mother's pushy behavior and prods for future insight to himself.
All he knew was that the wedding would come - the fine details were lost to him.
Cecilia snickered in his ear at the idea of clumsy, kind-hearted Agustin marrying Julieta.
She was likely the one person in the entire Encanto that could put up with the many disasters the educated man made himself part of.
The irony of the pairing wasn't lost on Bruno.
His sister and her sweetheart certainly complimented each other.
"Can you even carry all of this home?" Cecilia's voice was low and amused, still so close to his ear that it sent a shiver racing down his spine.
He scooted away from her and tried to discreetly wipe his ear on his ruana. His chest puffed with indignation at the jab about his strength.
"I walk further up and down the stairs to my room every day." Bruno stood and made to lift the crate with false confidence.
He could barely move it enough to get a grip on the wood, flinching when his fingers were pinched beneath the weight.
And Señor Echevarría made it look so easy.
Bruno felt his ears turn red as he continued to struggle with the crate.
Señor Echevarría excused himself to the barn and saved him the embarrassment.
Cecilia was not so kind.
"Let me get Liberata hooked up to the cart." She stood and dusted off her trousers before letting loose a shrill whistle. "We'll give you a lift home."
Bruno scowled and kept his eyes pointedly on the crate. His pride felt bruised and she just kept poking at the wound.
"It's fine." he insisted, his voice barely audible.
Cecilia kept her eyes fixed on him, that poisonous green burning through his center.
"I'm sure it is." she agreed with a quiet sigh. "But like you said - seeing the future takes it out of you and you came a long way from home for us. Least we can do in return is see you home safely instead of letting you pass out in a ditch somewhere because we took advantage of you. And I could stand to pick up a few things in town. 'Tivo likes his apples and we're running low."
Bruno couldn't look at her, hating how she had a point and an excuse to get her way.
What could he say in return to refute her?
Cecilia got her way. She always had as a child, too.
Just as stubborn as the horses she raised.
Pepa would be glad to see her again, at least.
"Alright." Bruno conceded, giving up on the crate.
Cecilia ducked her head to hide a satisfied smile and led Liberata away to get the cart.
The little cart Liberata pulled along behind her had just enough room for the crate. It was a tiny thing, used for quick trips to town and carrying things that were too awkward to balance atop a horse.
Bruno nearly qualified as something too awkward, but remained firmly on the ground this time instead of atop Liberata or in the cart.
Cece walked by his side, one hand on Liberata's reins to guide her along and set the pace to an easy meander to town. The road was an easier slope in that direction and Bruno seemed to be having an easier time keeping up with them.
He was quiet, exhausted even, and Cece took the chance to observe him while he was lost in his daze.
Bruno Madrigal certainly looked different as a man instead of the child she remembered.
He wore his hair long now, in thick curls that fell just past his jaw rather than the short order his mother had kept it in when they were little. It suited him and softened the strong lines of his face. He almost looked like a fluffy, albeit sad puppy.
Bruno even had the big brown eyes and prominent nose to finish off the look. It made him look small. And it probably didn't help that he drew himself up like he was constantly in fear of being kicked.
Definitely a sad puppy.
Cece could understand why he stayed inside so often. Even she was on edge, expecting the worst for him.
People tried to hit Bruno? This sad puppy man?
The idea was inconceivable to her.
There was more to him than just visions of the future.
"Do you still do puppet shows at the school?" Cece asked suddenly, startling Bruno out of his daze.
"You remember that?" he gaped at her.
Cece offered him her best grin. "Why wouldn't I? You always added the best plot twists to your stories. If I remember right, it wasn't just the kids that were crazy about your shows."
Bruno had often lingered around the schoolyard when classes were finished, telling elaborate tales of romance and adventure with a pair of crudely made puppets.
The Grand Tales of Hernando and Jorge.
Even the older ladies around the market would take a moment to get caught up with Bruno's stories.
Cece had heard him joke about his real gift being 'acting' more than once.
She'd heard very little of his stories in recent years.
"Oh, um, thanks." Bruno lifted a hand to his neck, trying to hide a shy smile. "I kinda… fell out of that when I started giving more prophecies. I keep most of the stories to myself these days."
"You write them down?" Cece tried to hide her disappointment. She'd wanted to see another Bruno Madrigal puppet show.
Had she really missed so much of town life that the changes there went completely unnoticed in her eyes?
How ignorant could a person be?
Bruno peeked over his elbow at her.
"Some of them."
"Could I see one?" Cece widened her eyes pleadingly. She was still interested in his work, still saw him as a person rather than some bad omen.
"You- you'd want to?" Bruno seemed bewildered by her interest.
"Want to what?" a booming voice interrupted, making Bruno jump again and an almighty scowl twist Cece's face into something horribly unpleasant.
"Gomez," she spat, eyes flashing as she saw her would-be stalker heading down the road towards them. "This is a private conversation. Mind your business."
Amaro smiled, a wide, charming thing that curled his mustache and made the girls in town swoon with desire.
That smile made Cece's skin crawl.
Amaro Gomez was nothing more than a pretty snake coiled in her path, ready to sink his fangs and venom into her until she died a slow death.
She wouldn't fall for his charms, would never conceed to be his wife and let her light be smothered until she was a shell of who she used to be.
"Why mi bonita," Amaro purred and tried to sidle up between her and Bruno. "I'm just curious what my fiance is getting up to these days."
Cece planted her feet and latched her hand onto Bruno's wrist to keep him close.
Both men glanced down at her hand, one panicked and the other irritated by the contact.
"Then by all means, don't let us keep you from your lucky girl." Cece purred, nearly trampling Amaro as she forced him to the side, grateful for Liberata's imposing size and hard hooves. Amaro had to move or be stepped on. "Brunito and I were just on our way to see his mother. I'd hate to keep a woman as important as Señora Madrigal waiting, wouldn't you?"
She didn't spare Amaro another look as they continued on, but could feel his furious eyes on her back.
"You'd rather keep the company of that freak than a man like me?" he hissed, all false traces of pleasantry lost.
Cece felt Bruno tense beneath her fingers and she urged Liberata to a brief stop.
"Between Brunito and you?" she turned her head just enough to show Amaro the wicked grin she sported. "I'd choose Bruno every time. Good day, Senor Gomez."
Cece urged both Liberata and Bruno along, ignoring the fierce blush that was spreading down Bruno's neck.
Perhaps she had overstepped, but Amaro needed to know that not everyone in the village fell at his feet.
And Bruno needed to know there was someone in the Encanto that would choose him first.
Cece thought she could easily be that someone.