#orlic

Balor

"Mmm, no thanks." Balor stared at the hoe in your outstretched hand like it might bite him. "I'm a merchant. I negotiate. I persuade. I don't... dig in the dirt." You pushed the tool into his chest anyway and grabbed his free hand, tugging him toward the unplowed field. "Consider it market research! How else can you sell seeds if you don't know what its like to plant them ?" He sputtered protests the whole way, but his fingers stayed laced with yours with no physical resistance. Twenty minutes later and his fine blue cloak laid discarded on the fence, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and cursing creatively at a stubborn patch of weeds.

"I hate this," he announced, swiping sweat off his forehead. "I hate everything about this." You bit back a laugh. "You're doing great sweetie." Balor shot you a glare, but it held no real heat. "When we're married, I'm hiring farmhands. A whole crew of them." Your heart stuttered at the casual mention of marriage, but he had already turned back to the weeds, muttering about investment returns.

Caldarus

"You want me to do what?" Caldarus examined the bucket of feed in your hands with deep suspicion. "Just... you know, scatter it on the ground," you said, demonstrating with a handful. "They'll do the rest." He took the bucket carefully, claws clicking against the metal, and scattered a handful of feed as though he was performing a sacred ritual. A chicken immediately pecked his toe and he hissed something in an old language.

"They are bold creatures," he observed, scattering more feed. "In my time, birds showed respect towards dragons." You held back a snicker with your your hand. "These are chickens dear, they don't respect anyone." Caldarus huffed but continued his task. By the end of the hour he had named three of them after ancient dragon clans and declared the speckled hen as his nemesis. When you finally led him back inside, he had feathers in his hair and fondness in his voice. "Tomorrow," he paused, "...I wish to try again."

Eiland

"I really should get back to the dig site," Eiland said, though he made no actual attempt to leave as you held up the wicker basket. You played your trump card without mercy. "Well, if you help me pick apples today I was going bake you a fresh pie." His eyes went wide and his resistance crumbled instantly. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose the tablets have waited a few thousand years already. What's one more afternoon?" He took the basket and followed you into the orchard with considerable enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as you handed him a ladder.

He examined each apple carefully before picking it, occasionally muttering about the historical relevance of apple harvest traditions. Towards the end of the day his fine clothes were creased and he had a leaf stuck in his hair. "I believe I've earned at least two slices," he said breathlessly, holding up his haul with obvious pride. "Possibly three." You laughed and brushed the leaf from his hair. "Don't worry, I planned on baking you a whole pie from the get go." Eiland beamed, then glanced at the remaining trees with renewed determination. "So what I held you pick more?"

Hayden

He found you struggling with a fence post before you even had the chance to ask for help. "Whoa there, let me get that!" Hayden jogged over and took the post from your aching arms like it weighed nothing. "You should've hollered for me. I was just next door feeding the horses." You wiped sweat from your brow and gestured at the remaining pile of lumber. "Since you're here, want to help me finish the whole line?" His face lit up like you had offered him a gift. "Do I ever! Nothing like good honest fence work to get the blood pumping."

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, Hayden hammering while you held posts steady. He talked the entire time, cheerful rambling about Henrietta's latest antics and a funny dream he had about giant carrots. When the last post stood firm, he stepped back and surveyed your shared work with obvious pride. "Gya ha ha! Look at that! We make a pretty good team." He turned to you, his smile softening. "Maybe we could do this more often? The working together part, I mean. I like working with you." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "Only if that's okay with of course."

March

"No." March did not even look up from the blade he was polishing. You leaned against the blacksmith counter and waited, batting your eyelashes. He lasted approximately thirty seconds before his eye twitched. "Why are you still standing there?" You held up the broken hinge from your barn door. "Because I need help installing the new one and you wouldn't put it on crooked." His scowl deepened, but you caught the flicker of reluctant pride. "Flattery won't work on me." You shrugged. "It's not flattery if it's true."

He made you wait another full minute before slamming his polishing rag down. "Dammit, fine! I'll help with one hinge, but you're providing lunch." He grabbed his tools and followed you to the farm, but once he started working, his complaints faded into focused silence. When the door swung perfectly smooth, he stepped back with barely concealed satisfaction. "There, happy?" You handed him a sandwich and he bit into it without protest. "Same time next week?" you asked innocently. March choked. "Absolutely not." But before he left, he took a mental note of every other hinge in the barn that could use replacing.

Olric

"You want me to help you move stones?" Olric's face lit up with excitement. "That's basically just lifting! I love lifting!--And rocks!" Before you could explain further, he jogged over to where the stones laid scattered from your latest clearing attempt. By the time you caught up, he had stripped off his shirt and was hefting a boulder that would have taken you 5 minutes to break down. "Where do you want this one?" he called cheerfully. "I'm thinking we make a pile someone over there?" You gestured towards the edge of the field and he made his way over, depositing the stone after stone with no problem.

You watched in amazement as he turned a full day's labor into a single hour of exercise. On occasion he would flex unnecessarily in your direction, beaming at you between hauls as sweat gleaming off of him. When the field was finally clear, he stood among the piles with his hands on his hips, surveying the work. "This was so fun! We should do this all the time. I'll bring snacks next time and--Oh! What your favourite protein flavour? I'll make you a shake too!"

Ryis

"I could really use a hand with the chicken coop," you said, leaning against the carpenter shop counter. "Some boards came loose in the last storm and I don't trust my angles." Ryis set down his chisel without hesitation. "Yeah, of course! Let me grab some extra nails." He packed his tools and followed you home, falling into step beside you with comfortable silence. A bluebird darted across your path and he paused to watch it vanish into the trees. "Eastern bluebird," he murmured, smiling. "Good sign. They usually only stick around places that feel safe."

He worked beside you with steady patience, holding boards while you hammered and offering gentle corrections. "Little to the left. There, that's perfect." When you fumbled a nail for the third time, he did not take over. He just steadied your hand and said, "Hey it's okay, there's no rush." By the time the coop stood solid again, your arms ached pleasantly. Ryis ran his palm along the repaired wall. "Nice work. You're getting better at this." You bumped your shoulder against his. "All thanks to having a good teacher." His felt his ears grow hot and he ducked his head. "Yeah--Of course, anytime!"