#*guilty*

  wanderingalbhed:

Even in the quiet night, the fire crackled merrily, singing its own little song none but other forces of nature might understand or appreciate properly, and kept Auron company while he carved. It seemed he’d become discontent with his small project.  Rikku in the meanwhile, kept vigil so he could rest.  When she returned from a small jaunt around the perimeter, she examined her companion critically, wondering why he’d chosen this activity, rather than sleep. Cautious, and more silent than the night, the thief stalked closer to her companion.  Her face lit up with wonder at the sight of the precious little bead, looking as beautiful as its lookalike, nearly glowing in the firelight. With all the due curiosity, she knelt next to him, abandoning her silence to question. 

"Hmmn… It’s pretty…What project is it for?" At this point, she was assuming, it was to be for the cord of the jug that hung at his hip. There was some measure of confusion when he offered the little momento to her, explaining it’s purpose.  Slowly blush lit up Rikku’s face, unsure of how to handle the whole situation. All the years of being uncertain of her emotions, the girlish crush on someone she respected, to an unbidden love,  one that she did not realize until she realized he would not pass her a second glance, being as young as she was.  To hear his admission now, when she was older, a far deal wiser, and surer of her feelings, was making  her heart thump out of her chest.  

As cautiously as she had snuck up on him, she took a seat upon his lap, her expression near stony. A heavy sigh escaped her as she contemplated everything. “Mnn… forgive me… But I’m gonna be rude for a second.” Quick fingers tugged down the damnable cowl that perpetually hid his expressions from her, and she did what she did best. Stole something. 

When she sat back and let him absorb what had just happened, she gave him a grin, one of the ones that screamed she was unashamed of what she’d done, and would do it again if given the chance.

"Think about that, and then get back to me on the maybe part."

The flickering light of the fire was not perhaps the best to do this by, but Auron had finished with all of the miniscule detail-work by now. This now was almost done more by feel than by sight, as he sanded the surface down to a smooth texture, broken only by the deliberate lines of the carving. Were this any other wood he was using for the bead, it would need treatment to help preserve it, but this was Macalanian, from the last vestiges of the crystalline forest at the heart of the region.

Macalania fades, now. But at least enough still remains that I was able to do this.

Bead held in his palm, the smooth surface reflected the firelight like a tigereye stone, banding light and dark from growth patterns in the wood. It is as good as I could make it. I only wonder what she might think of… He would not admit to jolting in surprise when Rikku’s curious voice came from near his shoulder, questioning. Fool of a guardian, lost in your thoughts - what if it had been a fiend instead? Taking a steady breath, he forced himself to settle. His hand had closed reflexively around the bead when he had startled, but now he reopened it to show her properly, the little trinket resting in his palm.

“There is… a bit of story behind the bead, if you would allow me to tell it.” Another steady breath, as he searched for the right words. Is this the right thing to do? I could simply give it as a gift of friendship, of comrades close as family, and it would still be as precious. But… that is not why I made it. And I… I want something to go right.

“There was once a woman, dark-haired and fair to look upon, who lived in a tiny village in Macalania, far from any others. There she had lived her whole life, making her trade as a basket-weaver. It was a good life, a simple life, and she was content. But there were three men who saw her, and - struck by her beauty and grace - decided to court her.”

"One was a visiting priest from Bevelle, a man of some power and influence, there to conduct services at the village’s humble shrine. The second was a captain of the Crusaders, handsome and heroic, there on patrol to help repel fiend attacks in the area. The third was the village woodcarver, a man of humble appearance and no particular standing."

"The man from Bevelle offered her a life in the city: sophistication and fine silks, culture and prominence. She would be the wife of a priest, one well on the way to being a magistrate, maybe even a maester one day. She would be respected and her every whim seen to, every want granted. But that was not the life she wanted. She preferred mountains and forest to buildings, no matter how grand, and her weaving over a life of high society."

"The Crusader captain offered her adventure, and a life of travel. He offered her the chance to see the world, as he moved with the troops, protecting people from fiends and Sin. It would not be the safest life, he told her, but he could take her from the tiny village and show her the wonders of Spira, from the wondrous heights of Gagazet to the pyreflies that dance among the lilies of the Moonflow, from the bustling city of Luca to the white-sand beaches of the southern islands. But that was not the life she wanted. She preferred safety to danger, and a home to call her own, that she might practice her craft and raise any children she might have in peace."

"The woodcarver bought a basket from her, and asked her to keep it. The woman was confused, but did as he asked. She left it empty, and kept it on her table in case he wished to pick it up later. One day, she found a bead in the basket, simple and round, the colour of her eyes. The next week she found another, different in form and colour but no less lovely. A new bead appeared the next week, and the week after that, and the week after that. She took the beads and wove them through her hair, the different colours standing out against the dark black, and went to see the woodcarver. He was in his workshop, but when she arrived he put down his tools. The woman took both his hands, rough from his trade, and accepted his court.”

Silvery Macalanian wood glimmered red-gold in the firelight. Her silence was telling. Rejection. He ducked his chin down, hiding behind the inadequate shield of his cowl, articulation starting to fail him as shame welled up. “I’m sorry, maybe that was… maybe I shouldn’t have… mayb…”

He froze when she sat down, warm weight settling against his legs, her face completely unreadable. Going to be rude, what does she…?

Cowl. Lips. Warmth. Oh.

you havent finished yet? i never knew holy fuck

(aahahhah nope i usually read it in huge chunks with breaks in between but then i got into snk and magi and dr and all that shit and this break got rly long)

Well didn’t we have a fighting rp? Though I don’t know any more since you never fucking reply ever without me asking you to.

; n; Wha..I thought..

*checks*

I'M SORRY!!!!! DX

It's Always left in my drafts!!!!

Your RP is like...the only one still ongoing..

PLEASE DON'T BE MAD AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! T^T