#tsillytalks

At 9 am, she’d be long awake already, sitting up beside you in bed, lost in thought and deciding whether she should leave before you ensnare her in going to some obscure bazaar.

At a reasonable 7 am, she would rise from bed with a single nod and enviable grace, slipping on her robes and awaiting you.

At 3 am, she growls into the (single, outrageous) kiss you offer her but would get ready for you anyways.

On her most recent day off with you, about 3 moons ago, you woke her up somewhere between reasonable and absurd (5 am). She was no stranger to waking up then, before the sun graced the sky, so she sat upright with a sigh and listened to the water run as you showered. She went in after. A little over an hour later, you two were ready. Record time for you two considering how neither of you slacked on your appearance.

“Where are we going?” Kyouka had asked while applying her lipstick that day, glaring at herself in the mirror with not a stroke out of place.

“Canvas Town.”

“For the art festival?”

“That and I need some supplies.”

Kyouka turned to you as you approached from behind, inspecting her face.

She wasn’t particularly fond of the way heat slowly tiptoes onto her face under your gaze or the way she wanted you to like it. She distracted herself by becoming faintly concerned and preemptively annoyed by the fact that you might decide to ruin her lipstick (she would certainly mind. Lipstick of the quality that she preferred was hardly cheap, be mindful of that. But it wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing to happen either).

You did not ruin her lipstick. Instead, “Pretty.”

Kyouka clicked her tongue and turned back to the mirror. She was a beautiful woman and she knew it well, your reminders did not serve much purpose, but they weren’t unappreciated. Kyouka’s own gaze sharpened in the mirror, she was in luck that red looked so good on her for it currently the color of her face. Very few could make Kyouka Nijiku blush like a school girl. You should be proud, she thought with a huff.

She looked at you. You matched her in your value for aesthetics, one of the many reasons she admired you. You, whatever your style was, were never haphazard.

“Pretty indeed.” She muttered to herself. You could not hear it but even if you did, you knew better to respond.

Eventually, the two of you are ready, on time and not a minute later because you woke early enough to accommodate the two hours it’d take you to make it out the door.

You were insistent on driving; you even opened the car door for her all prim and proper in a way that made Kyouka’s eyes roll. Classy. Once inside the car you hit the pedal so hard she almost got whiplash. You gave her a halfhearted apology that was drowned out by the sounds of the wind blowing past the car as you let down the windows.

Neither of you spoke much. Your eyes were on the road, one hand on the wheel, head bobbing to the newest Too Lily track that dropped only a few weeks prior. Kyouka’s eyes were fixed on the scenery flashing by and the dust getting kicked up by your old jeep. You were so close to speeding, she didn’t have to look at the speedometer to know. It didn’t bother her then as much as it should’ve.

The way you braked when the two of you arrived at your destination was equally jarring. Kyouka barked at you then, demanding that you ought to do a better job of this whole chauffeur business if you ever wanted her in your jeep again. You nod and she’s wholly convinced you took none of her comments to heart.

Canvas Town in all its odd and whimsical glory was always a place of no restraints for those with a special talent and place in their hearts for anything creative and artistic. Which is why you fit in beautifully here. It was always a tad bit too whimsical for Kyouka’s tastes and this day was no less.

Swaths of artists, musicians, vendors and everything in between entered the district’s walls in droves. One after another they slipped through the Spellcaster’s seal to keep anyone with ill will away.

It was loud and cacophonous, even when you had parked a good distance away. The place bloomed with people, music and color; art, in all its forms, came to life. And you, you seemed to glow with excitement. Kyouka, if she wasn’t Kyouka, would found it contagious.

See, an appreciation of the arts is not something Kyouka lacks. She has a sharp eye for aesthetics and she likes beautiful things. The crowd and constant nudging of people all around her was disruptive in her efforts to focus on each piece of art she came across.

Knowing this, you intertwine your fingers into hers, locking them so that the crowd cannot tug her away from you and make your way through the bustling masses. After the hundredth “excuse me!” and “pardon!” you finally make it to a quieter stall (relatively). There are still people of course for there is not a corner of Canvas Town left vacant during the art festival but it will do.

“Thank you.” Kyouka mutters into your ear before you pull away. Your reply is a squeeze to her hand, not lingering on it too much.

You two busy yourselves in perusing through this particular stall’s wares. Right away, Kyouka recognizes where you brought her. A jeweler’s stall. She narrowed her painted eyes on a charmingly crafted gold circlet so that her eyes did not roll once more. Of course you’d choose a jeweler’s stall. You could not stay away from the way jewels shined against your skin, how somehow gold and silver and anything so precious looked more alluring when it was dangling from your body. She could not deny that they did, nor that she enjoyed seeing you adorned by them.

She was just going to tell you to mind your wallet when she glanced up to find you already trying out a large pair of ruby studded earrings and a matching necklace. Whatever she meant to tell you left her thoughts swiftly left. She was busy admiring the way the bright stone sat against your sternum. You catch her eye as you pull closer to her,

“Well?”

“The stones alone could pay off someone’s house.”

“I’m going to be in debt.” You nod.

Kyouka frowns, “Yes.”

You turn back to the mirror set aside for you to see as you tried items on and Kyouka’s arm circled your waist almost unconsciously as she leaned her chin on your shoulder, admiring you for a little longer before you placed the jewelry away. When your eye caught on something else, she let you go.

You both spent more time at the stall. Your attention jumped from one item to another. Intricate tea sets, flower arrangements, shimmering trinkets of every form and fashion. You found beauty in it all.

Kyouka was always pickier.

Her attention was the kind to catch and stay.

Today, her’s caught on beautiful terracotta wind chime colored in the same blue as her youngest brother’s eyes. The melancholic weight of that realization hit heavier than she expected it to but she didn’t hold onto it for very long when she heard the click of a camera go off.

Kyouka’s head snapped to the side, striking eyes hardening in your direction. Her hand had, on instinct, shot up to the dagger she’d managed to hide in the folds of her clothes. You blinked at her from behind your old polaroid, pulling out the picture it produced and shaking it before setting it on the makeshift counter of the stall. It was an old camera, there wasn’t much left to it but it still managed to capture anything you found worth it. You used it sparingly and yet half of the pictures it produced were of Kyouka.

“You looked too beautiful.” You explained simply, using a soft cloth from your side bag to clean the camera’s lens, “I had to take a photo.”

“Flattery.” Kyouka scoffed, readjusting a few hairs that had strayed from their usual place thanks to the gusts of wind.

“Truth.” You pick up the picture, smiling to yourself and then showing it to her.

She was beautiful. Kyouka herself knew that but the photo caught her side profile with just the right lighting, her dark, navy eyes glinted with appreciation at the wind chime she gazed up at, she didn’t look that way often. It was vulnerable and candid in a way that would have made Kyouka uncomfortable had it been anyone but you who saw it. You tuck the photo away before the vendor, or anyone else for that matter, spots it. Kyouka is sure she’d find it taped to your wall by your bed, or encased in a frame you made from scratch on your desk. The thought sends a pleasant warmth through her.

You two browse for a little while longer, eventually moving on from the jewelry (amongst other items) stall and rejoin the larger crowd that hadn’t lessened despite the fact that it was much later now. As the two of you walk back, you take the lead, once again having yohr hand tangled into Kyouka’s as you moved through the swarm of people. You navigated through with such comfortability, there was grace in the way you guided her through what she knew was one of your favorite places across the Ground. Canvas Town, this festival, was your touchstone in a sense, your soul rejuvenated here and her’s sung when it saw you so at peace, happy and well. Kyouka squeezed your hand, her dark red painted nails scraping lighting at the skin they caught under them. You, backlit by the dying sun, looked back at her with a smile that makes her heart stutter.

“I’m sorry,” You called back, “This wasn’t much of a date, was it?”

It wasn’t but it’s not like Kyouka minded. Sure, a dinner at a sit down restaurant would be nice but it was not the restaurant that would have made it so, it was you. And you were here, your hand was in hers, secure and sure. This was enough.

“I am pleased as is.” She responds, finally being able to walk at your side, past the crowds as you made your way back to the jeep.

You hum. She offers to drive. You let her. The drive back is smooth and peaceful. The two of you return to your residence and you make tea while Kyouka brings the bag of everything you bought from the day inside. You notice she had bought the terracotta wind chime and smile. You don’t mention it. Instead, you join her on the balcony with two steaming cups of tea.