#vee writes

prompt: tea/coffee

word count: ~950

happy wolyse week <3 i was hoping to write a much longer piece for the week, and i probably still will! but i don't think i'll finish in time... but i also had an idea for the prompt tea/coffee, so i ran to write something short and sweet.

i don't have bsky, but ty to wordybird.bsky.social for hosting!

~*~

Bearing the heat in Gyr Abania proves to be a challenge, even for Haldswys.

Her experience in growing up first on a tropical island and then working around the harbors dotting La Noscea's coast doesn't give her much aide. Wet, humid heat she can handle — and even enjoys! The heat around Ala Mhigo is both heavy and dry, the unforgiving inferno of a well tended oven. Like most mornings, Haldswys wakes to a mouth tacky with dried saliva and a film of sweat on her forehead and the top of her chest.

Lyse is still in bed. She turns one way then rolls back just as quickly, restless and likely close to waking. For a moment Haldswys considers pulling Lyse into her arms so she can wake her beloved with gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders. Tempting, but the idea of pressing their too warm bodies together makes Haldswys squirm in distaste. She settles for sneaking away from the bed to start their breakfast.

By the time Lyse emerges from their bedroom with her thinnest robe wrapped around her, Haldswys is setting down the pot of tea in the middle of their kitchen table cramped with dishes.

"Oh you're a sweetheart," Lyse moans in appreciation as she nears. "I'm starved."

Haldswys smiles and meets Lyse's upturned face for a kiss. Her hand drifts to slide across Lyse's hip to her bottom for an indulgent palm full. Lyse steals a pinch of Haldswys's ass, lightning fast, before they part.

They take their seats, knees knocking against each other under the table. Haldswys set out a veritable spread for them to choose from: thinly sliced cucumber and quartered tomatoes sprinkled with salt, a small selection of fresh cheeses and olives, both green and black, a plate of golden bread rolls crusted with sesame seeds, little jars of fruit jam and honey. Slivers of green melon glistening with condensation, a small bunch of fat red grapes. The only thing Haldswys made herself is the pan of eggs and beef sausages sliced into thick coins. It's a simple dish, which suits them both fine. Haldswys isn't unskilled in the way of cooking, but she bears little joy for it.

Haldswys piles her plate with a portion of eggs and sausage, fruit and bread. She leaves the wedge of goat cheese that Lyse likes the best and puts another helping of melon on Lyse's plate when Lyse only takes one slice.

"I'm always surprised you enjoy drinking hot tea with weather like this." Haldswys says as Lyse fills her glass, then Haldswys's. "The sun's barely up and it's already stiffling."

"Hot tea to keep against hot weather," Lyse says simply as she dollops a spoonful of honey into Haldswys's glass. "That's what Papalymo always said, at least."

Haldswys doesn't know if she agrees, but to hear Lyse speak at all about Papalymo is a rarity, so she says nothing. She tucks this little scrap about their fallen friend away with the rest of her paltry knowledge of the Lalafell. That she never tried harder to know the fellow Scion still smarts as one of her many regrets.

"It just feels right, you know? Even on the hottest morning I don't feel right without a hot drink to start the day," Lyse's eyelashes flutter as she takes her first sip. Haldswys admires the faint smile that blooms. "But you don't have to drink it with me if you're overheated. I wouldn't be mad if you wanted to have cold juice instead."

"It's fine," Haldswys takes her own glass carefully — a beautiful glass with delicate gold filigree along the rim, but no handle — and brings it to her mouth. It's perfectly sweet, exactly as she likes it. "I like sharing a pot of tea with you. It's an important part of my morning now too."

Lyse blushes, a sweet rose coloring her brown skin. She smiles, a little shy and very pleased. It warms Haldswys with syrupy satisfaction to see such delight radiate from Lyse. Whether it's finding the juiciest and best fruits in the market or offering Lyse genuine truths from her heart, inspiring joy in Lyse is one of her favorite parts of loving her. Lyse's joy feels as close to her as her own. To see her happy is to know that same happiness in herself.

Under the table Lyse hooks her ankle around Haldswys's, very fond and affectionate.

"I swear you'll make my teeth rot one of these days with how good you are," Lyse sweeps up a torn piece of bread through the golden oil pooling at the bottom of the eggs. "I wanna do something nice for you too since you made us such a nice breakfast. How about I brew us some mint tea and chill it in the ice box to have in the evening? And!" Lyse points a finger at her, suddenly stern. "I'll clean up after breakfast so you can take first shower."

"I don't mind helping," Haldswys protests. "I can at least dry dishes."

"You may not mind helping, but I do," Lyse says. There's little room for argument in her tone, all Commander Hext now. "Do you understand?"

Haldswys tips her chin down in surrender, a smile curving her lips.

They settle into pleasant conversation about their plans for the day, picking at food until they drain the pot of its tea. It is a perfectly lazy morning, the light streaming in from their window warming from rosy to pale gold. The day awaits, with its pressing heat and its crowded markets and their list of errands, and Haldswys finds herself considering making them another pot of tea.

obey me! (solomon lover)

love and deepspace (starfish leaning, but i adore them all)

PLEASE NOTE THAT NO HATE AGAINST ANY CHARACTER WILL BE TOLERATED! WE LOVE EVERYONE HERE!

feel free to send in requests for obey me! if you wish, i am not used to writing hcs but i will try my best!

masterlist

a/n: i’ll make it pretty…some other day

♡: fluff ; ☾: angst ; ⚠︎: smut ; ✘: no pairings ; ?: author is not too sure

obey me! shall we date?

𖤓 solomon

cor meum (♡) in which you and solomon love each other, deeply and simply.

solomon’s paradox (☾) ✘ in which he simply exists.

𖤓 multi