#crownea

“His ego is so big; I can almost see it growing,” the comment comes from Aranea’s right, the other woman is sitting on the bench next to her. She’s got dark hair in a messy bun, chin in the palm of her hand as she leans forward on her knees. Aranea feels her heart stop when the other woman smiles at her. “Boys are so ridiculous, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re insufferable,” Aranea agrees without stuttering because she was Aranea Highwind and Aranea Highwind did not stutter her words in the vicinity of really cute girls. Her heart on the other hand, was a lot like a jackrabbit. The woman smiles at Aranea and giggles just lightly enough that Aranea can hear.

“They’re trying to figure out who’s stronger,” a roll of her eyes. “Men only think with their dicks it seems. Pissing contests like these get so tiring when you listen to it all the time.”

“Oh, are they friends of yours?” Aranea glances through her hair and watches the woman sigh with a wry smile.

“Sadly… I’m Crowe, by the way.” She sticks a hand out to shake and Aranea suddenly is aware of how sweaty her palms are. She shakes Crowe’s hand anyways.

“Aranea,” short and sweet, to the point. No stuttering, thank the Astrals. “Hey, you wanna-”

“Crowe! Seriously, you need to judge who’s stronger!” one of the men interrupt Aranea and Crowe sends a glare to the man. “Stop flirting and help us out.”

“Nyx, oh my astrals, you don’t need me to judge between you and Gladio… Just deadlift something…” Crowe pinches the bridge of her nose and Aranea can feel a scoff/laugh working its way through her. “Sorry about him.”

“Oh, no. It’s-” Aranea can feel a blush on her ears as she looks at the embarrassed look on Crowe’s pretty features. It’s really adorable.

“Crrroooooowwwwweee.” Aranea looks over to the men, both of them acting like children as they stand by the free weights. “Whoever is stronger will take you to dinner..?” Nyx is baiting her now and Aranea gets an idea. She stands, walks over to the men and looks at the weights.

“How much are you going to?” they look at her with surprise and Aranea crosses her arms with an unimpressed look on her face. “The weight. How much are you lifting?”

“Oh, we were gonna keep adding until one of us couldn’t lift…” The other male speaks and scoffs lightly. “We deadlift about 500lbs.”

“Easy,” Aranea smirks at them as they look at each other for a moment. “Rack em up, boys.”

“Wait, you… you’re going to try and lift that?” Nyx looks a bit shocked and Aranea scoffs.

“No trying needed,” Aranea pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail and stretches her shoulders a bit. “Come on, boys. Rack em up.”

“Yeah, okay. I’d like to see this.” Gladio laughs and sets the weights as Crowe walks up to them. She looks slightly worried and Aranea just gives her a smile.

“So if I lift this, I get to take her to dinner, right?” Aranea looks Crowe in the eyes as she says this, watching the reaction.

“You know what, yeah. You lift this and you can have her,” Nyx laughs, not cruel but he definitely doesn’t think that Aranea can lift this.

“Nyx! I am not something you can just give away,” Crowe protests with a blush on her pretty cheeks and arms crossed over her chest. She does peek at Aranea though and smiles.

“I hope you like home cooked food,” Aranea jokes when the weights are set. Bending and grabbing onto the bar, Aranea looks straight into Nyx’s eyes as she lifts the weights. Standing with a smirk and then pulling them above her head before dropping the bar back down.

“Wh- holy-” Nyx is stuttering and Gladio just has his jaw open. Aranea pats Gladio’s cheek with a laugh.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” Crowe is laughing at the boys as Aranea walks up to her. “Pick you up at 7?”

“Y-yeah. Oh my astrals. You are amazing, Ara,” Crowe grabs Aranea’s hands in hers and squeezes. Aranea is pretty sure her hands are still sweaty and clammy and her heart is going to beat through her ribcage but oh, what a way to go.

“Alright, 7pm.” Aranea feels like she has to drag herself away from Crowe, she did have errands to run before trying to kick Prompto out of their apartment. “Hope you like pasta,” she takes a moment to whisper this in Crowe’s ear as she passes by. Glances at the woman before sneaking a quick kiss to Crowe’s blushing cheek. “See you later.”

“Ye-yeah, okay. Later,” Crowe is blushing and smiling and Aranea has to walk away to preserve her dignity before she lets herself grin wide.

who suggests new things in bed

Tied. Pun intended. They’re both very adventurous.

who cries at movies

Neither. Neither one is a big crier overall tbh.

who gives unprompted massages

Crowe has very talented fingers (shhh, she’s a mage that’s all I meant) and her talent for finding and releasing shoulder knots is nothing short of magic.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Aranea gets Stereotypically Man Sick - she is very very bad about this, and the slightest cold will have her hacking pathetically and flopping dramatically on the couch. Crowe doesn’t so much “fuss” over her as she kicks her into gear (even if it’s the absolute lowest gear until she’s over it)

who gets jealous easiest

As I’ve written them? Aranea, I think. Especially during their college years.

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

Crowe has a strong love for bubblegum pop, and it absolutely doesn’t go with her persona and Aranea absolutely loves it.

who collects something unusual

They both love beer and have a commingled collection of bottle caps from things they’ve tried.

who takes the longest to get ready

Crowe. Aranea’s pretty efficient, and that pretty wavy hairstyle takes a few.

who is the most tidy and organised

Crowe. Aranea’s not QUITE a slob, but only because she’s been in the military.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Both of them are kind of “fuck the holidays let’s go to the beach.” (I will probably actually write this)

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Aranea is the big spoon and Crowe is the little spoon usually.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Crowe, she’s determined AF.

who starts the most arguments

Aranea is a hothead but CROWE IS NOT FAR BEHIND.

who suggests that they buy a pet

Crowe. She’s soft for dogs. Aranea pretends to be indifferent to animals, but the floof (and how cute Crowe is with him) steals her heart pretty quickly.

what couple traditions they have

Nobody goes to bed mad.

what tv shows they watch together

The Dragon Prince. IDK, it just struck me as something they would like. Also like the absolute rudest most horrifying comedy.

what other couple they hang out with

I very much want them hanging out and throwing darts with Iggy and Nyx. I did not know how much I wanted this. (also adds to wip list)

how they spend time together as a couple

Playing video games, pickup sports. They like to take walks together.

who made the first move

Aranea.

who brings flowers home

Aranea, usually as an apology of some kind.

who is the best cook

She felt her false smile and tense shoulders fall away as she entered the building. A series of small spaces wrapped around three floors with a large, glass-sided staircase winding up the middle in a squared-off coil. She waved at Wedge closing up the gift shop and skipped up the stairs, the ten-hour shift on her feet all but forgotten.

The smells of paint and clay mingled, welcoming her into the small room - previously white-walled and plain, but now adorned with paintings, all in the same style. They reflected movement and passion, both in the brush strokes and the colors. Most depicted people, but some were of scenes, haunting and angry and poignant and peaceful in turn. Aranea rolled her sleeves up as she rounded the partial wall that separated the shared space, and opened the small refrigerator on her side. She eased out the tray with her current project on it, set it down, and flexed her fingers before reaching for her bucket of clay. The high ceiling allowed the last of the sun’s rays to stream in, and Aranea pushed her hands into the clay, smoothing and shaping with practiced ease.

Aranea was lost in her work, using the side of her hand to shape a delicate slope, when she heard the door open. She smiled, but didn’t break her focus on her sculpting, concentrating.

“Hey Crowe.”

“Hi Aranea.” She heard the smile in the other woman’s voice and it was enough to make her look up in the hope of catching it. She was rewarded, glancing at the curve of the smile and the swell of Crowe’s lower lip, envisioning just the right pressure and movement to duplicate it in her clay. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands. This was a business arrangement - there was no way she would have been able to afford this studio space alone, and it was nice to have company. That’s all this is, she told herself sternly. No need to make things weird.

Crowe let out a tired puff of air and leaned more than sat on a stool. “How was your day?”

Aranea thought back to the hours at work and shrugged. “Fine. Annoying. Looks like you had a heck of a day.”

Crowe rolled her eyes and swiped her arm across her forehead. “People are awful. You’d think they’d be happy to be out for a nice meal, but it’s shocking how many of them seem to make it their goal to make me miserable.” She stood up and started pulling out paints and brushes methodically. She always did this in the same order, every time, and by the time she had everything out, she had calmed. Aranea watched her in quiet admiration, trying not to stare too long.

Aranea thought for a moment. “I know what this calls for.”

“Pizza?”

“No.  I mean sure, but that’s not what I was thinking.” Aranea moved to the center of the room where the small speaker they shared was perched, and pushed the button to connect it to her phone. She tapped on her screen for a moment, then looked up with a smirk.

Their eyes met as guitars crunched and voices growled from the speaker, and they grinned at each other. Odd hours and a willingness to share had brought them together, but their shared taste in death metal had kept them happily sharing this studio space for the past year. Fortunately, the late evening hour tonight made it unlikely that any of the other artists would complain.

And Crowe was easy on the eyes; Aranea couldn’t deny that. Aranea had been on the verge of saying something to move their relationship beyond just friendly more than once, but had backed down every time out of a healthy mix of cowardice and a desire to avoid upsetting the status quo if things went wrong. She watched Crowe watch her canvas for a moment, admiring the striking tones of bright red she could see, accented by a stroke or two of deep blue. Most of the painting was blocked by Crowe’s body, which relaxed visibly as the music rolled over them and she lost herself in thought.

Aranea turned back to her own project and fitted her thumb back into the groove she was shaping, her eyes occasionally darting over to the other side of the room.

A couple of weeks later, and Aranea could plainly see what was influencing this project. It was embarrassing, and juvenile.

And almost finished.

She dreaded finishing it, even though the two of them usually enjoyed sharing completed work with each other, both observing the unspoken rule not to peek at works in progress. Crowe hadn’t mentioned much about her current painting, but she’d seemed happier than usual working on it, so that had to be a good sign.

It was a rainy, early Sunday morning, and Aranea was alone in the studio. She pulled the tray out of the fridge again and sighed. The bust was just shoulders and neck and the back of a head, with a mass of hair partially pinned up and partially falling down in wisps. From the curve of the neck to the shape of the ear, it was glaringly obvious what Aranea’s hands had been busy smoothing and shaping these past few weeks. They were the same graceful lines she furtively peeked at every time Crowe came into this room. She sighed. Way to ruin a good thing, subconscious. As it turns out, it was probably best she’d decided not to sculpt a face.

Aranea braced herself to just get it out and get it over with. She just hoped they could keep things normal afterward.

The soft click of the door pulled Aranea from her thoughts. Crowe stepped into the room and set down the paper bag she’d been carrying, which Aranea eagerly noticed smelled of donuts and coffee. Instead of starting her usual routine, though, Crowe walked over to Aranea and took her by the wrist, leading her over to Crowe’s side of the studio.

She didn’t know why Crowe was so purposeful, and Aranea was excited and terrified at the same time. Her pulse thudded, and she was grateful for the clay on her hands - otherwise there was no question her sweating palms would have given her away.

Crowe pulled Aranea in front of her latest canvas. “This one’s finally done, and I wanted you to see it.” Her voice was soft.

It was a pair of hands - that was it, but they took up nearly the entire canvas. They were strong, and active - muscle and sinew stood out, and their black and white tones contrasted with the bright red background Aranea had spotted earlier. The way Crowe had captured movement and power was beautiful, and the care and detail on each fingernail and knuckle was stunning. The hands appeared to be reaching out for something, and Aranea opened her mouth to ask about it, when Crowe took her hand instead of her wrist, heedless of the squish of the clay.

“It’s magnificent.”

You’re magnificent, Aranea wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Aranea, look.” Crowe looked down at the hand grasped in hers and looked back at the canvas, and Aranea’s gaze followed.

“Oh.” Oh. Those were - her hands? Aranea’s mouth stayed open, and her eyes went wide. Crowe had been watching her just as closely, it seemed. Terror eased its way out of her chest, to be replaced with a flutter of excitement and a rush of elation. She pulled Crowe’s arm now, hustling over to her own side of the studio to wordlessly gesture at her work. A quiet laugh burst from Crowe’s chest, and long, dark eyelashes brushed down to highlight the pale pink flush at the tops of her cheeks. A heartbeat passed, then another.

“So, what are you doing later?” Crowe’s tone was lightly teasing.

Aranea regained enough footing to tease in return.  “I don’t know - probably working on some stuff, listening to some metal. Maybe going on a date?”  She squeezed Crowe’s hand and laughed as the clay squelched. She continued to smile as she stepped forward half a step to brush her lips gently against Crowe’s - lightly, tentatively.

“Yes, this whole experience has been nothing but luck.” Ravus pulled his lips back from his teeth just enough to flash them at Aranea.

The look she shot him this time was a clear warning. “I swear, you’re worse at this than you were at being human. And that’s saying a lot.” Aranea squared her shoulders and yanked open one thick door, striding through without holding it for him. Ravus angled his body at the last moment to avoid being squashed.

Aranea was impressed by the rich wood structure within. Tall windows lined the walls, revealing the midnight blue of the twilight sky outside. Each window was separated by a column, which upon closer examination was a massive shelf holding rows of books on each side, with the obligatory quaint little ladder for reaching higher shelves. A carved railing surrounded a shorter second level, otherwise open to the room below. Smaller half-moon windows capped the rectangular panes below in a pleasing pattern, and the stacks, though shorter, were in the same places on the second level as on the first. Aranea looked, expecting to squint, but saw every detail of the old-looking scrolls on the second floor. She shook her head. This was still really weird sometimes, to say the least.

In the rear left corner sat a small, nondescript rectangular wooden counter marked “Reference Desk.”  A small, alert, dark-haired woman sat, checking items off a list with a long, feathery pen. Behind her, a man with glasses pushed a metal cart filled with leather-bound books and more of those time-worn scrolls. He was meticulously reorganizing, moving all the scrolls to a second, empty cart beside him. Aranea blinked twice when it looked like a scroll had left his grasp and simply sailed into place on top of the cart. She was tired, and it had been a long week, and she was seeing things. That was more probable than a witch in the employ of the Lucian government, Aranea thought. She took a deep breath, and walked forward.

Crowe watched the two of them come in out of the corner of her eye, grinning as the tall man barely cleared the door.  She waited for them to approach before looking up, and gave the woman a friendly smile when she walked up alone. “Welcome, I’m Crowe. Can I help you?”

“I’m - Aranea. I guess I need an account? Or something?  I need to do research. It’s for … school. I’m a student,” the silver-haired woman said. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

The awkward and obvious lie made Crowe glance at Aranea quizzically, but she just shrugged and said, “You can look at whatever you’d like here, without registering for a card. Most of what we have can’t be checked out anyway.” Any true student would have known that, but as Aranea drew closer, Crowe noticed the telltale transparent sheen of her fingernails and the shifting color of her eyes, from grey to green and back again, too quickly. The glow of the lamps caught on her porcelain skin and enhanced its preternatural luminescence, and Crowe caught herself staring. She cleared her throat.

“What are you looking to research? I can help you with the terminal since it’s your first time,” Crowe offered, leading Aranea over to the search station.

Aranea followed, but shifted from foot to foot and looked back toward the door. “That’s uh - private. I mean, classified. I mean, the research I’m doing at the uh, the university isn’t final so I have to keep it … quiet? But thank you.” She swiped a long lock of shimmering hair behind her shoulder and looked at Crowe with real gratitude.

Crowe nodded and typed with practiced ease on the keyboard in front of the terminal. “Well, let’s just use some sample terms then. Here, look at this search.” The categories at the top of the screen read: Non-Human Creatures> Supernatural> Humanoid. “So, this will take you to Fae, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, and you can see the rest. Just click back if you want to go up a category.” Crowe gave Aranea a tentative smile.

Aranea shot Crowe an embarrassed, slightly angry look in return. “Okay, just tell me you figured it out. Don’t be cute,” she hissed. Her eyes flicked toward the door again, almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.” Crowe made her voice as soft and soothing as possible. “I might even have some secrets of my own.” She reached up to hit the print button on the screen and deliberately let her sleeve fall away from her forearm, revealing the intricate marks on her skin. She even allowed them to glow faintly, gaining her a disapproving bespectacled glance from behind the reference desk.

Aranea met her gaze with the barest flicker of trust, eyes swirling again to a green that was nearly olive. She grabbed the printout and hustled away to grab the appropriate books off the shelf. Crowe strode noiselessly back across the room and returned to her perch on the stool behind the reference desk, pulling her quill from her mass of pinned-up brown hair and putting on a pair of reading glasses.

“Newly turned, I take it?” Ignis mused without looking up from the cart he was rearranging. He was quiet, but they both knew they could be overheard if the other two chose to focus on them.

“Yep, seems like it.” Crowe leaned back and studied Aranea as she flipped open the first book and scanned it  fast - too fast, Crowe frowned. She’d have to learn to disguise that, or get discovered pretty quickly.

“And that one lounging in the corner as well, I believe.” Crowe’s eyes followed Ignis’ nod toward the doorway, where a tall, sullen man, with a disheveled mass of even paler hair than Aranea’s and one arm in a sling, leaned gracefully but nervously.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about him.” Crowe blushed slightly.

“I’m not surprised.” Ignis sailed past her with an armload of reshelving materials, one eyebrow raised.