Dema

She heard the Hunter's defeated steps scuffing the stone stairs before she saw her.

An irritated huff left her, and Sandrone set her teacup back down to the small plate with more force than necessary. The doll had just set up her table in the small workshop, had finally been granted access to the fireplace to practice her cooking and tea brewing. Everything had been perfect for an uninterrupted hour of tea. But now, she had the annoying new hunter to cater to.

If she had to get on her knees to channel Blood Echoes one more time without something to settle her temper…

The Hunter appeared at the entrance to the workshop. Hunched shoulders framed a misery-wracked form, her Blade of Mercy dragging along the ground beside her, and blood dripped down from her white clothes. Braided purple hair, magenta colors at the ends, ran out of the blood-spattered white hood covering the rest of the hunter's head. Everything about the Hunter gave the air of a person who did not wish to continue on.

"Welcome home, Hunter," Sandrone grumbled. She did not want to say that to every fighter that passed through the Dream, but she was constructed to give greetings to them anyway. "What do you want this time?"

The Hunter paused, slowing her steps to a complete stop, and lifted her eyes to Sandrone's. Purple eyes, once filled with life and an eagerness to fight the corruption pervading Yarnham, were hollowed. No light shone in the irises. It was as if she was a ghost floating aimlessly throughout the world.

"Where has the Captain gone?"

Sandrone tsked, rolling her eyes at the question. "He's sitting on a hill not far from here, probably brooding as he tends to do sometimes." The doll gestured to the rest of the workshop. "He isn't here, so I took the time to indulge in my own wants and desires for once. Is that a problem?"

"No," the Hunter said. Her words were completely devoid of emotion. "I simply wanted to know where he was. I don't usually see you in the workshop."

"You've never seen me in the workshop," Sandrone hissed. "And if I want to sit by the fire with a good cup of tea every once in a while, that's none of your business."

The Hunter's eyes looked back down to the woven green rug laid over the floorboards. "You're right. I'm sorry for asking."

Something wasn't right. Even if Sandrone hated acknowledging it, the Hunter's entire being was off. Any air of confidence and pure-hearted intention was bled from her form. There were no questions that set Sandrone's temper off, no banter between them on the Hunter's return, no 'Thank you's or requests for Sandrone's aid to strengthen the Hunter's body and mind for the upcoming battles…

"May I sit with you?"

"Hm?"

The Hunter looked around the workshop. The fireplace crackled with burning flames, bathing the inner workshop in a comforting warmth. The rugs, once creased at the centers and placed awkwardly on the floor, now spread out in perfect symmetry. The grand cabinets to the left of the workbench had their doors shut. Books piled near the fire now sat in neat stacks on the table near the entrance. Everything that had been disordered, once looking as though strong winds had ravaged the sanctum, was organized in better places.

Sandrone picked up her teacup, sipping at the herbal liquid. "Yes, I was the one who did all of this. You hunters and the Captain leave such a mess, and-"

"Can I sit with you?" the Hunter asked. Her question was desperate, something close to a strangled beg. A glassy look filmed over her eyes. "Please."

Feelings swirled inside Sandrone, uncomfortable and foreign. It happened too much since this Hunter entered the dream. Pity and… something else she didn't fully grasp curled under her chest.

She was built not to have feelings. She was built to answer and aid the hunters that entered the Dream. She was built to obey and act only in the name of the hunters.

"The chair at the table next to you. Pull it here."

The Hunter slowly turned her head, eyeing the only other wooden chair the workshop had. A gloved hand, the cloth taken from the minions of the Healing Church, gripped the back of the chair. With movements that took too long for someone trained in intense combat, the Hunter scraped the chair across the floor, drawing it to the other side of Sandrone's little table.

The Hunter stepped around, smoothed her robes with the hand not holding her blade, and lowered herself onto her chair. Her eyes locked onto the flat surface, and the emptiness within them deepened to depths Sandrone had never seen in all her time of giving aid.

The doll felt that painfully overwhelming emotion consume her torso. "Wait here," she scoffed, setting her teacup back down and rising from her seat.

The Hunter stayed in her place while Sandrone stepped away, eyes still glassy with unshed tears.

Ball-jointed fingers opened the cupboard beyond the candled altar, pulling out another porcelain cup from the shelves. Mutters, whispered under her breath, fell from Sandrone's lips as she closed the small door. "Can't believe I'm doing this- Just one more thing I have to do for these hunters- Bet I won't even get a 'thank you-'"

No words came from the Hunter.

Sandrone came back over and set the teacup in front of the Hunter's gaze. Taking the teapot she had chosen for her act of self-indulgence, she poured golden-brown tea into the cup. As the steam rose to the Hunter's nose, the doll flounced back to her seat, smoothed her knee-length skirt, and settled back into her chair.

"There. Now drink."

The Hunter's free hand, shaking and feeble-looking, lifted from her side. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she brought it to her pink lips, tilting the cup. A soft slurp echoed in the space between them.

Silence pervaded the workshop. The Hunter set the cup back down, breathing heavily. Sandrone ignored her, driving the sounds of the Hunter's misery to the back of her mind. Around them, the workshop stayed as it always did, a bastion in the midst of a storm. Even with the Hunter's despair, even with the unspoken tension hanging over the space, the workshop stood, giving warmth and light to those who needed it the most.

It rankled Sandrone. The Hunter was ruining the perfectly crafted space she had made while the Captain and her had been gone. Every adjustment was now smothered in the hunter's broken spirit.

"So, do you finally understand that you aren't strong enough to take on Amygdala?" Sandrone huffed. "I told you before you last left that your body wasn't able to take on such a foe, but no, you couldn't listen to my reason-"

The Blade of Mercy clattered to the floor with a sound louder than a pistol shot.

The Hunter's eyes closed tight right as body-heaving, shuttering sobs left her. Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the gasping breathes the Hunter took in to try and steady herself. Both of her hands wrapped over her chest in an attempt to hug her body together. A few tears dropped into the tea, poisoning the work Sandrone had done.

Sandrone startled. Confusion filled her mind, but she fell back on what behavior she already knew. "You can't tell me that the loss of the fight has shaken you this-"

"I'm losing everything that makes me who I am."

Sandrone clamped her mouth shut.

The Hunter heaved and sobbed, and her words poured out of her. "I have seen the depths of human ambition and the depravity that came with the Church's meddling. I have seen so much suffering, so much strife, that I cannot fathom what else I could do to ease it from Yarnham's people. I have cut through both people and beast. I am losing what made me human. I am fighting to kill gods beyond the cosmos and I am nothing but a speck in a storm tearing apart our reality." Her purple eyes finally opened and met Sandrone's. "I can feel myself changing. The blood I have already taken in is flooding my veins, and it demands my payment to my debts. Each prey I slaughter siphons spirit from my heart and mind. I do not know how much longer I have before I start losing all my emotions and become indifferent to the grave sufferings of the world."

Sandrone's heart twinged as the Hunter's flighty gasps drew more tears from her eyes.

"I do not know how much hope I have left," she whispered. Every moment her sight stayed trained on Sandrone, more of her seemed to shatter. "At the end of this all, when I awaken from the Dream… I know everything will not be okay. And that, that is what makes me wish to end it all."

The fire crackled, and even the little ones just outside the workshop ceased their murmurings.

Emotions continued rolling and dipping in Sandrone's chest. What was she to say? Was she to speak lies and placate whatever foolish notion the Hunter had? Did she even have a right to speak on the Hunter's future with the enormity of everything that had been set into motion?

She fell back onto what she knew.

"You said you don't have 'much' hope left, not that you have no hope left." Sandrone took up her teacup, giving both of her hands something to hold rather than shaking against her lap. "What is it that's still pushing you forward? It's got to be something. Maybe whatever it is can draw you back to your quest."

The Hunter looked back at the doll. Her eyes softened, and something resembling longing curled in the colors of her irises. Her pink bottom lip trembled. No words left her, but Sandrone could see what the hunter didn't say.

"Me?" Sandrone gasped. Shock and a touch of irritation colored her words. "How could I be the thing giving you hope?"

The Hunter's eyes looked at her with a fire that held the same warmth as the one in the fireplace, filled with yearning. Every emotion the hunter had in her was on naked display. Hope, desire, comfort…

Love.

"You make everything worth fighting for," she said. "Each visit I make reminds me that there may be a happy end to this all. You are so intelligent, so unlike anyone I've ever come across, so lovely and full of life…" The Hunter shrank in on herself, and pink dotted her wet cheeks. "I love visiting you. I know you and I are bound here… but you have always been the best part of my dreams."

A sharp breath drew into the doll. Heat bloomed in her body, a sensation she had never experienced before. The workshop was too large and too small at the same moment, a contradiction her mind could not rationalize, and yet, it was only her and the Hunter. The cursed emotions that plagued her being spiraled and knotted, both pleasing her and sparking her temper. How and why was she so affected by this confession? Why did every hunter view her as such a bastion of safety? Was this hunter just as broken as the other hunters entering the Dream, so desperate for companionship that they would love any being that treated their wounds and did as they asked her to?

And why, out of everything, was this hunter's confession so different from the others Sandrone had received?

She thought of everything that had gone on through the Hunter's journey. She thought of the times when she spotted the Hunter cooing over the little messengers, drawing happy sounds from the creatures. She thought of the time the Hunter had brought her a hair ornament, a small and delicate piece that gave her terrible emotions and prodded memories at the back of her mind. She thought of the times she had knelt on the stones, holding the Hunter's hands and infusing the other woman's body with power to aid in the Hunt, of the genuine 'thank you's that the Hunter never once forgot to speak. She thought of the genuine kindness and love the Hunter gave to her and everyone in the Dream, taking the extra time to sit with the doll and talk about whatever came to mind.

Sandrone's heart squeezed.

…What was one lie?

"Everything's going to be fine," she said. Looking down to her teacup, the doll furrowed her brows. "It is foolish to think otherwise."

The Hunter was quiet, then she spoke. "Everything will not be okay in the end, I see."

Sandrone's temper flared. "I just said it is foolish to think otherwise."

"You have made it known that you see me as a fool, so I doubt not believing your words will better your impression of me." The Hunter's voice softened. "You are also a terrible liar."

Sandrone's fight left her, and a shadow of the Hunter's hopelessness hung over her shoulders. Her fingers tapped against her cup, then reached out. Reaching for the Hunter's hands, the doll cupped the limp fingers with her own jointed ones.

"No matter what, Hunter, you still need to fight on." Sandrone gripped the digits tight. "I can't tell you that your ending will be good or bad. Waking up from the Dream is your goal, but whatever else happens is up to you and the consequences of your actions." Her gaze bored into the Hunter's, daring her to continue on. "Finish what you started, and discover the truth of the events that brought us to this point."

"I…"

"If nothing else…" Sandrone took a breath, tried to bite back her words, but forced them out anyway. "Do it for me."

The Hunter looked to her as if she had hung the moon and the stars, and Sandrone found herself liking the way those purple eyes held her as the center of their world.

The Hunter rose, hands still held by Sandrone's, and stepped around the table. She knelt in front of the doll, the opposite of their usual dynamic, and gazed up at Sandrone with love still burning in them. "Will you allow me to be selfish?"

"You hunters are all selfish," Sandrone scoffed, still not breaking their shared fingers. "Go on, what is it you want?"

The Hunter rubbed her thumb on the back of Sandrone's hand. "No matter my ending… will you stay with me?"

"I am already designed to stay with you until you complete your journey."

"I mean, at the end of it all, perhaps even after the end, when it bleeds into a new beginning… will you stay with me?"

Sandrone considered the proposition. Thoughts continued to race in her head. Whatever was waiting for them at the end of everything was ever-changing, always unclear. The Hunter was on a road she could never return from, a road where she would lose her humanity to become something far greater than either of them could comprehend.

"Yes…" Sandrone whispered.

Hope, fiery and ferocious, bloomed in the Hunter's eyes. Pink lips opened and a gasp of disbelief became free. It was as if Sandrone's one word had given her an entirely new life.

And the worst of it all was that Sandrone was just as breathless and hopeful as the Hunter.

The Hunter lifted one of Sandrone's hands to her mouth, pressing a tiny kiss along the false skin, then lifted it to her forehead. "May I sit with you? Just for a little while longer?"

…Company wasn't so bad, now was it?

"Fine. But I don't want to hear anything out of you, Hunter."

"Columbina."

Sandrone paused. "Hm?"

The hunter stood, rising with their joined hands. "My name… My chosen name is Columbina."

Sandrone sniffed. "Columbina, then. I don't want to hear anything out of you, Columbina. When you're done feeling comfortable, go back out there and continue the Hunt. I don't need you hanging around me so much you forget to finish your journey."

Columbina nodded, dropping their hands. She slipped back into her chair, calm enough to wipe the drying tears from her cheeks with the inner hood cloaking her hair. She sniffed, blew out a long breath, and reached for her teacup. Soft sips drank more of the cooling tea.

Sandrone huffed, picked up her own teacup, and took a long-wanted drink.

"Thank you."

The doll pretended she didn't hear Columbina's whisper, but it fluttered her heart anyway.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this. It might not be the strongest in certain areas, but I wanted to end the week with something super self-indulgent. I do apologize if the lore of this is off from Bloodborne's lore. I'm getting super into it right now, and I'm catching up on all the things I didn't understand in the playthroughs I've watched.

She spotted it on one of Navia's bookshelves as she was picking her clothes off the floor.

Clorinde paused, dropping her crumpled pantyhose. All of her attention turned to the small leatherbound book lying flat on the shelf's edge. Pressed words announced a bold title onto the cover.

'Memories.'

"Whatcha looking at?"

Clorinde turned her head back to the bed. "I knew you were taking pictures of us on our dates, but I didn't know you kept them in an album."

Navia chuckled, snuggling under the bed's comforter. Clorinde's shirt, rumpled from being slept in, hung over her shoulders. "Where did you think I put them?"

The duelist shrugged. "You seem like the type to hang the pictures up on a wall."

"Well, I do that with some of them, but there are some I wanted to preserve more." Navia rubbed her eyes, then stretched out her fingers. "Bring it over here. We can take a walk down memory lane."

Guilt twinged in Clorinde's chest, sharp and hot, before she pushed it away.

Navia must have noticed, because she cracked a soft smile. "Good memories, of course. It's all been the past three years." A twinkle flashed in her eye, and she crooked her finger. "Come on already, let's look through it together."

She couldn't really say no, now could she?

The duelist grabbed the album, minding the other books on the shelf. Stepping past the mess of clothes on the floor, Clorinde made her way back to Navia's bed, handing the blonde the album before slipping back under the covers. Fixing her bra strap, Clorinde leaned against her girlfriend and pulled up the other half of the bed covers. "I can already take a guess at some of them."

"Well, we did live them," Navia teased. She opened the album, flipping open to the first page.

"Oh, that's when you first got your Kamera."

"Sure is. I was glad the hotel let me bring it in for our first official date."

Clorinde remembered it perfectly. It had been their official first outing as lovers. The blue tablecloth held fancy dishes Clorinde had ordered from Escoffier herself. The Gilded Hall dish and white wine had paired with the candlelight, a dance of romantic atmosphere that brought red color to their cheeks. The picture, taken by their waiter, had Navia leaning next to the duelist. Remains of Clorinde's dinner laid on the table. Navia's smile shone like the sun, and Clorinde looked at the other woman like she'd hung the moon.

"I forgot you were so smitten with me," Navia laughed. Her free hand intertwined her fingers with Clorinde's free one, giving a loving squeeze. "Even from the beginning, huh?"

Red lips twitched at the corners, and purple eyes flicked up to meet blue ones. "I'm sure I wasn't the only smitten one. Let's look at one of our other outings."

"Now, hold on-"

Clorinde flipped the page to a picture from their fifth date. It had been a festival that time. The smells of the food and the noise of the games flowed right back into Clorinde's mind, drawing her back to a time that still felt so early in their relationship. The picture had them behind a cardboard standee, silly animals painted over the board with giant holes over where the faces should have been. It was cheesy and corny, but Navia had insisted they do it anyway.

Furina had taken the picture and neither of them would forget that, not with the way the woman had fussed about taking the perfect picture of them. She'd added in the Traveler and Paimon, having the two take the lower cutouts, and angled herself at different points to make sure it turned out well without the aid of a tripod.

Just before the flash had gone off, Navia had moved her head and kissed Clorinde on the cheek. Both of them shared one of the cutouts, Navia's lips pressed to the soft curve of Clorinde's cheek. The duelist's cheeks were just starting to turn pink. The shocked look in her eyes was captured perfectly on the Kamera film.

Navia laughed. "Alright, now, I wouldn't say I was smitten here..."

"You were the one who kissed me." Clorinde's smile grew. "And I'm sure the kiss was part of your plan the whole time."

"You can't prove that."

"You moved quite intentionally for someone who was trying to act spontaneously, if I correctly recall."

Navia poked her tongue out and waved a dismissive hand. "That doesn't count as solid evidence therefore, it holds no water."

Clorinde rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Monsieur Neuvillette can be the proper judge of the incident. Shall I fetch him to decide the final verdict?"

A snort left Navia, and she flipped through more of the album. "He doesn't need to get involved, but I do remember when he took a picture of us. Let's see... Where is it...? Ah! Right here."

It was a blurry picture, mainly because the Kamera had been placed in a controlled air bubble, from when they were underwater. The sea had been absolutely irresistible that day; even on a picnic with their friends, the serene blue waters had called them in. Neuvillette had been there that day, along with Sigewinne and Furina. He'd offered to take a picture of them while they were diving. With his water manipulation, he'd crafted a little bubble, allowing him to hold it without destroying the device.

Navia and Clorinde were under the surface, Navia swimming up to wrap her arms around Clorinde's legs. The blonde had insisted on a more cinematic pose. Their eyes, even if they weren't directed at the Kamera, were locked onto each other. Mouths open in a silent conversation, the two lovers embraced with more love in their eyes than they had planned for.

It was a blurry picture, but so special.

Navia's finger traced over the edge. "That was a really good time... We really should go back there soon. We've both been working so hard lately..."

The duelist nodded. "Agreed. I'm sure I can put in for some time off, though I'm sure you'd need some time to organize the Spina's affairs before you take a day off."

"Yeah, they'll need direction, since there's been more than a few cases we've been caught up in recently." With a sigh, Navia leaned hard against Clorinde.

"I'm sure it will work out. With your intelligence, those cases are bound to get wrapped up by the end of the week."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Navia scoffed. Her shy grin and the rose tint dusting her cheeks betrayed her. "But enough on that. I want to look at some of our recent memories. Let's see... What else do we have here?"

They flipped on, pointing out other moments they captured over the years. Kisses captured at dinner tables and parties, lovelorn gazes caught on Kamera when their friends noticed them staring, single-person photographs they had left for each other when work drew them away for days at a time… All of them were there, preserved and safe from the wears and tears of time. When they hit three-fourths of the album, the pictures ran out. New pages, empty from pictures but filled with possibilities, promised them more moments for their future.

"We really need to make more," Navia sighed. "Our last picture was two months ago, and it's about time for another."

Flashes of the engagement ring Clorinde had bought ran through her mind. She thought about the invites she had sent out a week prior to all of their close friends, of the speech she had planned in her mind, of the location she had picked out. Looking to her girlfriend, her future wife if Navia said yes, Clorinde held in her secret. "I'm sure we'll put a new photo in soon…"

Blue eyes crinkled in a way that suggested they knew something. "I suppose we'll see what happens… Maybe that time off will bring something new…"

The next photo coming was bound to become one of their best.

AN: I do apologize for this one since I feel like I missed the mark. I really wanted to write these two, but 1) I struggled with this prompt set the most; 2) didn't have time to write more since my first idea was more angsty than this; 3) I've forgotten a lot of their more intimate moments from the game; and 4) I tried to challenge myself to use ships without using the same characters multiple times, excluding Sandbina. I do love these two, but I'll need to call it here for now.

Light mist blanketed the Grand Narukami Shrine, bathing the place in moist morning vapor. Dew wet the grass and trees, fat droplets rolling over the plant surfaces. Birds, quite literally the early birds, chirped out a lively morning song. The sun was still under the horizon, but every creature could feel the approaching dawn and the energy of a new day.

Yae Miko slid the door closed behind her. She breathed in the fresh air, letting the crisp vapor settle in her lungs, before blowing the air back out. It wasn't too humid out to mess up her fur, but moist enough to dampen her skin and hair with a freshness unique to the dark morning. Each breath revitalized her body, the scent of grass and the mountain's ever-present chill, reminding her of the world's delicate nature. It was all as serene as dawn could be.

Perhaps it was a sign of a good day to come.

The woman hummed, tuning her hearing to the tinkling wind chimes scattered around the shrine. Stepping down the wooden stairs leading to the main visiting area, Miko trotted across the grey stones, making note of the sands around them. Deep footsteps, made by numerous visitors from the previous day, disrupted the fine grains.

Someone would have to smooth the sands over. Granted, Miko was up and about, and should take the opportunity to rake it herself...

The kitsune chuckled to herself. There was a new shrine maiden who had recently joined, and she did need to be taught how the shrine operated...

Her long hibakama skirt swished about her legs. Tucking her hands over her waist, the kitsune made her way to the sakura tree. Purple eyes roamed over the bark, taking in every detail, checking the integrity of the tree she was entrusted to care for.

Nothing had been changed from the previous day. No marks, no offensive displays from immature prankers, and no tampering with the sakura tree's energy...

"Good. All is accounted for." Miko turned, making her way to the building across from the sleeping quarters. "Now, for my morning tea..."

Before she ducked past the door, a familiar presence tugged at the kitsune's chest. One side of her mouth quirked up in a teasing smirk.

So, tea for two then.

Customary to her morning routine, the kitsune slipped into the kitchens and heated a teapot. She gathered supplies, setting the two teacups and a small honeypot onto a tray, and hummed a frustratingly catchy nursery rhyme while the herbal tea warmed under the stove's flames. Once everything was ready, Miko packed everything onto the tray and carried it out the building's back door.

Hints of pink and purple appeared, climbing up the atmosphere. Oranges, blues, and yellows would come soon, as the sun's arrival always gave, but the night mixed with the dawn to draw out cool colors to soothe one's sight.

Out on the balcony, sitting on a chair with an empty one beside her and a tiny table in front of them, was Ei. Her polearm rested against the building's wall, never too far away from its master. Her eyes stayed trained in front of her, staring out at the open lands and to the east where the sun was about to rise. Sweat spots dotted along the sides of her hakama and keiko gi.

"You aren't cold? I doubt sweat dries well in the morning chill."

"I am fine." Ei shifted in her seat, popping a lower back joint. "I've been training for the past few hours. The chill is welcome from the boiling heat I've been training under."

The kitsune stepped around and settled herself onto the other chair. "'A few hours?'" she hummed, placing the tray on the table. "I suppose that means you did not sleep well."

"No, I did not." The shogun crossed her muscular arms over her chest, lifting one hand to scrub at her eyes. "Last night held more nightmares than the past several days. After tossing and turning for so long, I decided to make better use of my energy."

"You didn't use the herbs I gave you to aid your sleep?"

"I did, though I'd argue they worked a little too well." Ei sighed, leaned forward, and wrapped her fingers around the teapot's handle. Pouring the tea into the cups the kitsune had brought, she continued on. "It put me in such a deep sleep that everything became too vivid, too real. The nightmare was almost impossible to escape from. I only woke up when I was stabbed through with a sword, something that shocked my body enough to release me from sleep."

A frown touched Miko's lips. "I'll see what I can find as an alternative."

Dark tanned fingers, nails filed short to allow for better ease of her weapons, lifted the teacup to Ei's lips. "I would appreciate whatever you find. I'm already grateful for your attempts in easing away my nightmares."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Miko dripped a healthy amount of honey into her teacup, sniffing irritably at the golden strand that rolled off the dipper onto the tray. Ei sipped at her drink. Her eyes closed at slow periodic intervals, but never long enough to indicate that she fell asleep.

Soft breezes swept through the mountaintop shrine. The mist began to lift, revealing more of the island nation below. Off in the distance, several lights twinkled along the settlements, revealing the early risers below and their pre-dawn work.

Slowly, just as it did every day, light peeked out over the horizon.

"So, how was your training session? Did anything different happen from all the other times you've swung your weapons at stuffed dummies and empty air?"

The shogun tapped a nail against the porcelain. "Everything went as it usually did. Though I did do something out of the ordinary..."

Miko chuckled, raising a hand to her mouth for a fake, shocked look. "Oh my. 'Something out of the ordinary' you say? Do tell."

"I picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows after my polearm practice." Ei's jaw tightened, and a frustrated look appeared on her face. "My form was incredibly sloppy, terrible enough that I will be incoportaing archery back into my regimen."

"Hasn't it been five centuries since you last picked up the bow?" Miko cooed at the sweet tea, then turned her attention back to the conversation. "Surely, you can forgive yourself for your lack of ability due to the stretch of time spent without practice."

"Yes, I could, but such sloppiness is unbefitting for a ruler of this nation." Ei set her cup on her lap, staring at the rising sun. "I suppose you're going to ask me if you can come watch me while I practice..."

Miko snorted into her drink. "As if I would ask for permission to visit you."

"Ah, so I will see you at several of them?"

"Of course," Miko teased. "Inspiration for light novels needs to come from somewhere, doesn't it?"

"Mm, I suppose so. I do enjoy reading your books, even if they feel a little too close to moments we've shared."

More of the sun inched up the sky.

"You mentioned days prior that an author's deadline is today. Do you think your writer will give you the draft today?"

"I'd say, knowing him, it would be unlikely." Miko sighed, then drained the rest of her cup. "I'll be surprised if he makes it before the end of the day. Though, I do look forward to chewing him out."

Ei finished her drink as well, stacking her cup onto the kitsune's. "You do it so often that I cannot help but wonder if it's your favorite part of your job."

Miko laughed softly as her only response, waving a hand. "I will neither confirm nor deny it. It does get the job done however, so if my authors miss deadlines, I must make sure they finish them one way or another."

A soft humored smile, one Miko didn't usually see in the mornings from her god, graced Ei's lips.

Then, the two of them went back to the morning in comfortable silence.

Their eyes watched the sun. Each minute that passed was a reminder of time's constant march, of the inevitable changing of night to day. Time was forever changing, but time itself was an infinite stretch that held everything on a constant medium. The sun, the moon, the blue and black skies... No matter what, they would always follow their cycles, an eternal dance for everyone and everything that lived under them.

Miko heard Ei's chair scrape against the wood, and then the archon was next to her. A calloused hand, rough from so many years of wielding weapons of every kind, slipped into Miko's smooth one. As the sun finally crested the skyline, Ei squeezed the kitsune's fingers.

Miko sighed, long and content. Leaning into her archon, the kitsune rubbed her thumb over the back of Ei's hand, soft enough for love but firm enough to prove Ei was truly there.

They didn't always have or need words. Five hundred years apart had given them plenty to talk about, but there were times when simply being in the other's company was more than enough. Drinking tea, watching the other work, leaning into each other... All of them were little things that happened in the fleeting moments of an immortal life.

And sometimes, that was more than enough.

AN: For those that ask, Miko is wearing the traditional shrine maiden garb that all the other maidens in the Grand Narukami Shrine wear. I did it because I didn't want to simply write Ei in sweatpants and a sports bra (and not in her official archon getup since she'd sweat through those clothes), so I tried to lean into traditional Japanese training robes and, in the process, also wrote Miko wearing the outfits worn by the other shrine maidens.

Anyway, I tried to give Eimiko old wives vibes. I did the best I could on this prompt, but I knew I'd struggle on some of the days (it's just inevitable when it comes to doing all the prompts of an event), so I will call it here and move onto the next one.