Absolutely Smitten

Maysilee always thinks of Lenore Dove's beauty as something fiery, something warm. But the more time that Maysilee spends with the Covey girl, the more she comes to learn that it goes beyond that. She comes to learn that the world of Twelve was made for the incandescent beauty that is Lenore Dove— the flowers that bloom in the Meadow in spring only do so to be held and woven into crowns to be placed atop her wild curls. The summer sun shines only to bathe Lenore Dove's form in golden heat, to catch the hint of red in her hair, and the leaves of fall only change so as to match that perfect shade, spreading it across the mountainside until Lenore Dove is everywhere that Maysilee looks.

And now, winter brings that lovely red to the curve of Lenore Dove's cheeks. It covers the world in white and paints the evening sky in sunset pink to draw the eye solely to her kneeling form on the horizon.

"I think they're just about ready!"

Maysilee's huff of annoyance manifests as vapor curling from her numbed lips, spilling into the snowy air before fading. 

"'Just about?!'" Her teeth chatter as she hunches in on herself, puffing into her mittened hands before furiously rubbing them together. "If I knew how long it took for maple to freeze, I would have made us do it in the kitchen!"

"Maysilee." Lenore Dove sits back on her heels, gives Maysilee a scolding look, the kind that holds too much affection and amusement to be actually threatening. "Stop being a priss about the cold and get over here."

Maysilee rolls her eyes, shoving her hands in the pockets of her winter coat with a grumbling sound. But of course, she makes her way over to Lenore Dove, leaning down to pick up the gloves that Lenore Dove had laid in the snow and tucking them into Lenore Dove's jacket pocket before straightening again. She watches, slightly amused, as Lenore Dove gathers up one of the now-firmed stripes of maple syrup from off the snowy ground, rolling it into a ball on her palm before popping it into her mouth, brow furrowed in thought as she chews.

"Not too shabby!" Lenore Dove rises to her feet again, sucking the remnants of the sticky syrup from her fingertips as she turns to Maysilee with a smile painted in the same shade of rose as the sky. "Your turn."

"I'm not taking off my gloves," Maysilee huffs, crossing her arms. "My fingers are frozen enough." Lenore Dove rolls her eyes in fond exasperation, then kneels back down again to pull up a second stripe herself. Maysilee watches as she wads it up in her palm again before presenting it to Maysilee. 

"Go on, then."

The mischievous glint in Lenore Dove's dark eyes gives Maysilee pause, her eyes narrowing slightly as she slowly leans forward to taste. But right as she's about to accept it, Lenore Dove snatches the candy out of reach, pressing her frigid fingers under Maysilee's chin and taking advantage of Maysilee's forward stretch to plant a surprise peck on her lips. 

"Mm—!"

The sight of Maysilee's dumbfounded face is apparently enough to make Lenore Dove burst into a fit of giggles, and Maysilee has to duck her head to hide the flustered heat that's rising in her cheeks, fingers fumbling as she tries to pull her scarf up over her nose.

"Lenore Dove—!"

"Sorry," Lenore Dove laughs, not sounding particularly remorseful. "You're just so cute when you get all flustered." As if to prove her point, she grasps the side of Maysilee's face with her free hand, presses a flurry of feather-light kisses to Maysilee's burning cheek that makes Maysilee squawk and squirm away, her reproachful look probably ruined by the smile she's so clearly fighting back. Lenore Dove just raises an eyebrow, lifts the taffy again to present it to Maysilee. 

"Come on. I need feedback from Twelve's resident candy expert."

Maysilee rolls her eyes, but after a moment, leans forward and accepts the offering. The taffy-like substance sticks to her teeth, but it's not too sticky to chew, so she manages just fine. Lenore Dove watches, her dark eyes eagerly searching Maysilee's face as she swallows.

"Pretty good," Maysilee says after a moment. "Tastes like frozen maple syrup— I like maple syrup, so that works out for me, but… it's a bit too predictable for my taste. Could probably use a little kick."

"Oh yeah?" Lenore Dove's thumb comes up to rub over the small bit of maple syrup at the corner of Maysilee's lip. "What would you recommend then?" Maysilee runs her tongue over the remaining bits of taffy stuck to her teeth, swallowing them down as she thinks.

"Something with citrus always goes really well with maple," Maysilee decides. "Lime or lemon would be my go-to."

"I like that idea. We may have to try that sometime." 

"It's definitely not good enough to run the sweets shop out of business."

Now it's Lenore Dove's turn to let out an indignant squawk, one that melts into a musical laugh as she cups Maysilee's face in her hands, drawing her in for a proper kiss.

There's a lot that's changed. Just a year or so ago, Maysilee had been standing out in the snow with Lenore Dove much like she is now, staring up at the night sky and wondering if she should just end it. Back then, lasting happiness had seemed such an impossibility, recovery from what she went through even more so. A year ago, she'd felt the first proper stirrings of her attraction for Lenore Dove, and it had terrified her. It had led to the first of many spirals of self-loathing and self-destruction, all of which eventually culminated in one of the darkest moments of her life so far.

Maysilee still isn't recovered. She still isn't entirely sure whether she can actually be happy in the life she's living. But right now, there's comfort in the realization that this winter is different. Better.