#frievaled

Another Kiss || a kiss that says thank you

Ink-stained fingertips trace up her side, dipping into each curve and plane he can find. Through her clothes, his hands are warm, impossibly so; perhaps he does it on purpose. Teasing her, gentle reminders that he’s there. That he’s not going anywhere.

She treads somewhere between consciousness and sleep. It was a bad night for him; Morgan knew he wouldn’t be joining her anytime soon. Tine wasn’t one to dwell on it. He said he’d try, and he would, after he was sure she was settled.

Her comfort always came first. Of that, he was sure.

Fingers draw up to her shoulder, across her collar. Mage cards through lavender dresses, let down from their careful ties, and traces up her neck. Jaw. Cheek. Behind her ear—her nose scrunches in a smile, here—and he chuckles.

“Still awake?” he whispers, voice low and rasped.

“Mmm.”

A proper response, indeed. Morgan cards his fingers through his beloved’s hair (it always shocked him, how a single tangle couldn’t ever be found) and allows his magic to drip into soft tresses.

A series of tiny buds bloom in her hair, decorating her with wispy purples and greys. A mixture of floral scents and peach fill the air; Tine’s eyes open, and Morgan’s own shine down at her.

A languid arm raises to drape around his neck. Thunder guides dark mage lower until their lips brush, smiles mirrored on one another face.

“Thank you, flower boy.”

Deirdre and Tine have been partnered for patrol that night in a small village near the monastery. Bandits in the area have been growing bold as of late and the Church has tasked students with ensuring the safety of the local devout.

Their watch begins quiet, peaceful even. The two women walk side by side, tomes in their holsters. Although neither of them speaks, Deirdre can still sense the camaraderie between them. They do not have to hold constant conversation in order to be friends.

About an hour into their duties, a faint rustle can be heard and, suddenly, a bandit brandishing a sword emerges from nearby brush and begins to close in on Tine. Deirdre rushes between them. "You will not touch her!" she roars while guiding Tine behind her back.

Fire is cast and it hits the man square in the face. He never even stood a chance.

They have been sat at this piano for what feels like hours, Elincia gently guiding Tine's petite hands across the keys. Scales and chords practiced one after another, filling the room with a jaunty, broken kind of music. Deconstructed, waiting to be tied together.

It's when Elincia starts flicking through sheet music, looking for a beginner's tune, that she feels Tine's head on her shoulder. She stifles a giggle as the younger looks up at her through heavily lidded eyes. Elincia hums softly, lifting one hand to stroke the mage's silver, silky hair. She continues flicking through pages, ruling out songs that are too complex or morose when she finally chances upon that's appropriate.

"Ah, here let's try this--" Tine's arm settles around her waist and her eyelids droop shut. She's not quite asleep, not yet, but she curls into Elincia's side like a cat. It's been a long day. With a soft chuckle, she folds the corner of the page down and closes the book. "Tomorrow. Get some sleep for now, okay?"

Deirdre sits with Tine as they work together on an assignment. It's late but they are so close to finishing! Deirdre lets out a yawn and soon after Tine does the same. She giggles and puts an arm over the younger girl's shoulder, encouraging her to get snuggly.