🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🍄 (the mushroom is a gift bc I love u)
🥺🥺🥺 i love my mushroom thank you 😭💕💕
okay so this took me ages cause i had to find something i thought was worthy of your attention but also i was curious about counting the flowers and if i'm right there are 316 of them 😂 which issssssss too much for me to count sentences lol SO after much deliberation i have decided simply to present you with what is basically an entire chapter of Oslasil (largely removed from context but featuring a scene that was very fun to write)
ENJOY, MY LOVE! 💕💖💖💝💕💘✨✨✨😘
“I’m not playing your game.”
“Why not?”
“Have you looked around yourself in the past four hours? There isn’t anything to spot and guess! There hasn’t been since we passed by Calcheth. Everything is flat and grassy and identical to what’s beside it.”
Haroch shakes his head. His eyes are bright and welcoming, and there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. He’s enjoying this far too much. Though, if Veridis is honest with himself, this may be the closest he’s come to having fun in… he doesn’t know how long. It’s an odd feeling, but not unpleasant. Spending time with Haroch has never been unpleasant.
“You’re talking like a quitter, Veridis.”
“Hey!”
“You can’t get offended when you’re the one who gave up before he began!”
“I’m not offended. I just don’t appreciate being called a quitter.”
“Then step up to the challenge!” Haroch exclaims, knocking their shoulders together. “I’ve already spotted something green.”
Veridis stares at him with narrowed eyes, but he meets the gaze steadily. Obviously, Veridis is going to have to play by Haroch’s rules to gain back the upper hand. He huffs out a breath, more amused than frustrated, and turns his focus to their surroundings. It doesn’t take long to scan the environment and, just as he suspected, Veridis sees nothing green.
“Haroch, you’re losing your mind.”
“No, no, I’ve spotted something that’s green. You have to guess.”
“There isn’t anything.”
“That’s not a guess.”
“Okay. I guess that there’s nothing green.”
“You didn’t even try.”
“Ugh. You are relentless.”
Veridis tries to ignore Haroch chuckling beside him so he can do another sweep of the countryside. Nothing catches his eye as being particularly green; the storms have beaten this place down with their sickness. Most of the grass is prematurely yellow. The bits of prairie that are another color are the areas that are browning or that have already died off completely. Everything in camp fits within the same color scheme.
“I want another hint.”
Haroch’s eyebrows practically fly off his head, they shoot up so quickly. Prat. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I get to know more than the color, don’t I? I want more information.”
Haroch’s eyes roam Veridis’s face like he’s studying the elf. He bites his lower lip, but even that can’t hide his smile. It seems like years before he nods. “Okay. Um- yeah, alright. The thing I’ve spotted is both green and close to you.”
A quick scan of the ground around them is no help at all. Veridis is starting to see how this game would keep children entertained at the market. What he doesn’t understand is how the children don’t lose their minds with frustration when they can’t find what they’re meant to be spotting.
“Haroch.”
“Yeah?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you want me to find.”
“Are you giving up?”
“… Maybe.”
Haroch throws his head back and laughs. Veridis knows it’s at his expense, but it’s still a beautiful, infectious sound. He finds himself unable to stop smiling because he’s trying so hard to suppress his own laughter. When Haroch has composed himself enough to sit still again, he places his hand on Veridis’s shoulder and leans closer. His hand is, thankfully, just far enough from the pulse point that he shouldn’t be able to feel how fast Veridis’s heart is racing.
“You’re very unobservant for a ranger,” Haroch finally manages to say. He’s still a little breathless.
“Bold claim coming from a farm boy,” Veridis snaps back.
He doesn’t mean the words to be hurtful, but the moment they leave his lips he regrets them. Haroch stares at him, wide-eyed, and falls victim to another fit of laughter. Veridis’s brow creases in confusion.
“You really haven’t played games before. I guess a part of me still thought you were joking, but clearly I was wrong. And who are you calling farm boy? I seem to recall that the place you call home is a certain farming down in southern Theiq.”
“Hey, you can’t gloat until you can prove you actually spotted something green.”
“Wow. You’re going to accuse me of cheating at a game you don’t even know?”
“Maybe I am.”
Haroch rolls his eyes. “Big tough ranger you are. You refuse to let someone else take a guard shift so you can watch for danger, but you won’t look at your belt and notice that your very own dagger has a green hilt.”
Veridis glances down out of instinct and immediately feels foolish. He should have guessed this far sooner. Haroch is watching with a soft expression when he looks back up. Veridis doesn’t think of himself as particularly competitive, and yet… he can’t let this end here.
“Give me another guess.”
“What, really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? I won’t go easy on you. I thought I was making it simple by spotting your knife. If we go again, it’ll be harder.”
“If you won’t spot something for me, I’m going to spot something for you.”
“… You know what? Go ahead. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The sun is high overhead by the time they stop playing the game. Both have lost track of what the other has spotted and who has guessed more than the other. In the hours that passed as they played, not a single traveler came up the road they’ve made camp on. So when Haroch makes his way closer to the edge of the stream, Veridis finds himself following.
They remove their boots so they can dip feet in cool water and take turns tossing pebbles to see who can make a larger splash. Veridis plucks a long piece of grass from beside him and begins twisting it around his fingers about the same time that Haroch leans back and settles his weight on his elbows. Veridis notices him staring not long after when he tries to look past him to watch the road.
“What?”
“Why wouldn’t you let Seilyn take the watch?”
“We just met, Haroch. I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Exactly.”
“Why not?”
Veridis shrugs and turns away from Haroch’s imploring eyes. “I’m a ranger. When you see what I’ve seen and do what I’ve done, it’s kind of hard to trust people.”
“I suppose.”
Haroch tips his head back so he has a better view of the sky. Veridis’s eyes are drawn to the column of his throat. He follows it up to Haroch’s jawline, and from there his lips, his nose, his eyes. He has long eyelashes. They’re as dark as his hair; even the midday sun can’t light them up. His lips part as he draws in a deep breath.
“How come you answer so many questions about yourself by saying you’re a ranger?”
“It’s applicable.”
He chuckles, and his lips tug into a ghost of the brilliant smile he’s been wearing all morning. “Sure, but why not anything else?”
“If I tell someone I’m a ranger, it wraps up everything about me that everyone else finds odd and ties it into a neat little package. I don’t have to try to elaborate on some habit I have, or find a reason for the way I act. I can say I’m a ranger, and they accept that at face value. They don’t tend to ask more questions. Unlike someone else I know.”
“You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“And why can’t I do that?”
“Because you’re the only ranger I know. You’re the source of my information. Soon enough I’ll know all the dirty little secrets you rangers keep from the rest of us.”
“Sure, Haroch.”
“I’ve never met anyone who kept as many secrets as you do.”
“Yes, well, I need to.”
Veridis stands and crosses camp to snag two apples from one of the sacks. Haroch rolls onto his side to watch him go. Veridis tosses one of the apples to Haroch as he returns to his side. Haroch snatches it out of the air and sits back up, turning the apple over in his hands. He twists the stem off and flicks it into the water. Veridis watches it as it floats away and vanishes beneath the surface.
“If I asked you something, Veridis, would you answer honestly?”
“Depends on the question, I suppose.”
“Right. How would you feel about another game, then?”
“I don’t think I could find something new to spot if my life depended on it.”
Haroch chuckles, pressing the back of his hand to his lips to cover the half-chewed apple in his mouth. For a bastard raised on a farm in the grasslands of Froel, he has good manners. Veridis only spent a couple of hours in Roldt’s presence, but he has no doubt that all the good in Haroch came from his uncle.
“Not that one. No, I used to play this one with my little sister. I suppose it isn’t actually much of a game, though.”
“What is it, then?”
“An exchange of information. I ask you something, you answer. You ask me something, I answer. Whatever we want to ask, but you only answer what you’re willing to share.”
Veridis bites into his apple as a way to buy himself more time. He’s finding, lately, that he does enjoy Haroch’s company, and talking with him seems to make the day pass quicker. Still, he could ask things the answers of which would put Veridis in danger.
“I don’t have to answer if I don’t want to?”
“Nope. And if I ask something that crosses a line, feel free to tell me off. Just as I would if you pushed too far.”
“Would you?”
Haroch shrugs with a grin. “Probably. I never needed to with my sister, so I can’t say for sure. Then again, she was much younger than you.”
“… Alright. I’ll play your game. If I get to ask the first question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a sister?”
“Technically I have two. Also two brothers. My father’s children with his wife, of course. Kheidan is hardly younger than I. Then there is Rona and Wynmar. Pennaedra is the youngest. She’s the one who would play games with me. She was just shy of her fourth year when I had to leave.”
“It sounds like you care for her very much.”
“I do,” he says. He smiles sadly at his hands. “Aceline hated that Pennaedra would spend so much time with me. Oh, but I love her. She’s the sweetest girl. Never cared that the rest of her family hated me.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t see her before we left Aerilon.”
Haroch waves his hand dismissively. “We would have needed to go to Penketh for that, and I’d really rather not have to see my father or Aceline. Besides, I’m not sure Pennaedra would even know me anymore.”
“All the same.”
Haroch looks at Veridis as if seeing him for the first time. The tightness around his eyes softens. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he swallows a couple of times.
“Thank you.”
It isn’t until he clears his throat and turns away that Veridis realizes how close they’ve gotten. He scooches away as subtly as he can.
“What about you? Do you have any siblings?”
Green skirts and freckled shoulders flash through Veridis’s mind. He shakes his head with a frown.
“No. Or… yes? Not exactly.”
Haroch’s breath comes out in an amused huff. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“My father was married once before he knew my mother. They had a daughter together. We met only once, when I was young.”
“I had no idea.”
“Yes, well, I don’t like to dwell in the past. I mean, why don’t you ever talk about your family?”
“I tried to avoid all of them if I was able to. Other than Roldt and Pennaedra, they aren’t good people. Kheidan, in particular, is rather cruel. And I suppose I don’t see the value in sharing stories about people I don’t care for.”
A beat passes as Haroch flings the rest of his apple across the stream.
“What were your parents like?”
The question makes Veridis’s blood run cold. He has to remind himself several times over that he doesn’t need to answer if he doesn’t want to. He shouldn’t. If he does, he should lie. The less that Haroch knows about him, the better. If Haroch is oblivious, he’s safe, and there is one less person in this world who could track Veridis.
And yet, there’s a part of him that needs to answer Haroch honestly. Veridis has no doubt that it is the same part of him that wanted Haroch on the team. The same part that has allowed a certain amount of openness. The same part that will undoubtedly get him killed one day.
Veridis tosses the core of his apple into the stream and leans forward so he can let the water run over his hands. When he sits back, he dries his hands against his shirt. He can feel Haroch’s eyes on him. He doesn’t know if the nervous tremble in his fingers is a result of Haroch or his question.
“I never knew my father very well. We were… distant with each other. He never loved my mother the way he loved his first wife, and there were times I wasn’t sure he even remembered that she was there. Oh, but my mother… she was withdrawn from the world much of the time. There were times she didn’t know I was around, and other times she simply didn’t care for my presence. But she loved my father dearly.
“’He likes the summer,’ I can remember her saying. She would go into a frenzy every year after the first snow. Her cheeks would be painted and she would trade her usual dresses for gowns that were bright and vibrant. She was glorious under the influence of winter. Where others always seemed to crumple in the cold, she blossomed.
“It was these times that I loved her most, that I needed her most. These were the times when she would remember me. Her arms would cradle me and her hair would tickle my face and her lips would sing praises for me. But… only in the winter. Only when she was bright, when she wrapped herself in satin gowns colored like the summer.
“Her favorite was a soft orange, more pink than yellow, and I remember it brought out the light that appeared in her eyes during those months. The hope and the warmth and the gentleness. But when the snow stopped falling and the first buds burst, she was gone. The gowns were gone, the paint on her cheeks was gone, the laughter and smiles and embraces were all gone. It was like she would take all the happiness in the world with her when she closed herself off again.
“’He likes the summer,’ she would say, and become the summer for him. But it was an act, like everything she did. When the real summer came, she could not be what she was not. She couldn’t make my father love her the way she deserved.”
For a long while, the only sounds are the burbling steam and the soft susurrate of the breeze through the grass. Veridis clenches his hands into fists to stop the trembling, but it feels now as if his entire body is a taut bowstring. He’s honestly not sure if a response from Haroch would release the tension or add to it. He can’t bring himself to face Haroch; his eyes have started to unfocus from where he’s locked on to a rock on the opposite bank. He can feel his teeth grating as if his jaw has been wired shut.
Haroch lets out a soft breath. The warmth of a hand hovers over Veridis’s shoulder briefly before it is drawn away without ever touching. Then the hand returns- this time on the ground beside Veridis’s hand, just inside his field of vision. There to hold if he wants it, but not forcing interaction.
“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak at once,” Haroch murmurs.
Veridis chokes on a quivering laugh. After a few more deep breaths, he is able to look at Haroch. He’s watching Veridis carefully, as if he might startle and flee like a while animal. Veridis can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. He swallows to try and rid himself of the lump that has formed in his throat, but nothing happens.
Veridis feels shaky and unstable, like he could be blown away if the breeze were but a breath stronger. Though he left out key identifying details, everything that he’s said is the truth. It has been a long while since he’s thought about his mother at this length.
Usually, the briefest thoughts of home invoke anger or fear, but now… Never in the three years since he left has he considered returning. Never has he imagined his mother, shut in the house with no one to comfort her in the spring time.
Veridis wonders how she survived the first winter that he was gone.
Hot tears prick at his eyes. He blinks rapidly to banish them, startled and confused by their presence. For a second, he believes he might fall over. He places both hands on the ground to either side of him to steady himself and draw in a quivering breath.
“I didn’t mean to say so much,” he finally manages to whisper.
Haroch supplies a gentle smile. “I’m glad you told me.”
He doesn’t say anything more during the time it takes Veridis to compose himself. He doesn’t touch Veridis, either, but Veridis can feel the warmth of Haroch’s hand beside his own.
