i'll look forward to your return, big boy.
g'raha is getting dressed, fingers occupied with the final loop of his scarf, when @acusol slinks up behind him. her arms fold around his middle the way they have a hundred mornings before this one and will a thousand mornings after, hands inching up to splay over the steady drum of his heart, chin finding the notch of his shoulder as she, with all the mannerisms of a particularly affectionate coeurl, murmurs into his skin. big boy, she says... a curious turn of words. one would think, after all they'd weathered together, he'd have developed some resistance to her teasing.
alas, evidently not. a flush creeps over his face, and his ears, ever less disciplined than the rest of him, give him away. his tail, apparently just as mutinous, curls around her with a mind of its own.
gods, she will be the end of me.
it takes him a moment to find his voice. "you will have me flustered in front of the entire flock, mana. is that truly your intention this morning?" a curious accusation, considering he makes no attempt to step away. she only laughs. together, they step out into the cool dawn.
the pasture gates creak open. everything stirs awake around them: the sanctuary's creatures rising to the aurora, mammets shuffling by on their rounds, the isleworks humming along in the distance, and farther still, a shadow gliding past the cliffside, all blessedly, mercifully oblivious, while the sea throws ribbons of gold across the water. mornings like this, with the whole island waking around them, could keep g'raha rooted where he stood forever, were the world so kind. for a man who had spent so much of his life chasing tomorrow, he found he rather preferred having today— with her, in this quiet domestic peace.
"i've chocobos to tend and the granary's returns to sort before midday," he sighs, though the corners of his mouth betray him, "and you've your own rounds to make, and yet here we are, wasting the morning making a mess of me." his turn, now, to gather her into his arms, nuzzling his cheek against hers. "not that i begrudge the waste. i don't think i'll ever quite grow used to this."
his smile grows sly as he lets her go, fingers ghosting down the length of her arm— down, down, down— until they find hers. he lifts her hand and presses his lips to every knuckle. he meets her eyes through his lashes, a touch too pleased with himself. "go on, then, to your rounds. but know i'll be thinking up something equally ridiculous to call you when i come back... and this time, i intend to see you blush."
