character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS
ship with: «I know there is a certain blonde fellow who is pretty fond of her…»
general opinions: «She is a charming lady… I find her audacity and humor pretty amiable. I’ve… never met someone quite like her, truly; someone that managed to won favor with me so easily. I’m still quite astonished…»
He laughed at her question, shaking his head playfully at her observation that such an action on her part had been “anti-climactic”. When he had recovered from this, he raised an eyebrow at her, one that said: Hardly. And without any further reply, he patiently waited, watching her pull herself into position and nodding to her when she met his gaze through the numerous, free strands of hair that she hid behind.
He really couldn’t agree with her observation, though. After all, it was exactly such a drunk and accidental event that caused them to have this conversation, here and now. And, in his eyes, it was a conversation that now felt long overdue, even though so much of it, he thought, didn’t even need to be said.
He exhaled, laughing slightly, as she called out her own nervousness. His hands, instinctively, holding tighter to her own. And, with the gentlest of motions, he pulled her forward, his small way of nudging her onward with her words when she hesitated. He had wanted to reach up and brush aside the hair that had fallen into her face, but the grin she had worn when she finally looked back to him had left him satisfied just the same.
His eyes never left hers. His hands never let go. And as he listened to each and every word she said, the soft smile on his face grew and grew, near ten-times over, he felt. He looked her over, all of her, noting how she sat, how she breathed, how she hesitated at certain words. He wanted to remember all of it, as best he could. After all, he’d never thought he’d have another moment like this in his life.
He’d never thought he’d ever care for someone like he once had cared for her. He’d closed his eyes, for only a moment, at the thought and, when he opened them, he caught her sighing and his hands gently pulled at her once more. He wanted to be sure he had her eyes when she finally said it… and he did. She looked surprised with herself and, in turn, he looked surprised with her. Then, as she began to laugh, he laughed with her, all the while inching her ever closer and leaning in.
“That is a start.”, he finally said, a hint of teasing in his voice.
As he finished speaking, he finally let go of one of her hands in order to brush the hair from her face. The other still laced with hers, his free hand lingered on her skin. He traced a finger along her cheek, downward, until it rested under her chin. Then, closing the remaining distance between them, he kissed her, gently and only once, before he moved away ever so slightly, hovering only barely an inch away as he spoke again.
“Hardly disgusting.”, he teased in a whisper, laughing to himself. Then, more serious, “It’s exactly what I’d hoped you would say, you know. I… I never thought I could feel like this again. Yet I do.”
It was true, though he doubted she really knew just how important it was to him. That, of course, was of no fault of her own. They had not often discussed his life before, his wife. His story was well known and she had never asked about much of it. They had spent so much of their time focused on the fact that they could simply be. Yet, as he looked at her now, he found that he wanted her to know, to know everything. Not all at once, of course. There was no rush; they had lots of time. But, eventually, even as difficult as much of it was to say, he wanted to share that with her. He wanted her to understand, to share that with him.
Really, he wanted to share everything with her. To think it had started with a simple piece of furniture and a blanket or two… The thought made him smile.
“Thank you.”, he told her, finally putting some distance between them once more.
He paused then for a moment. The hand that had guided her face to his moved back to her free one and, once more, his fingers laced with hers. They pulled tighter on her than they had previously. There was an need in them now, in the way his held them, a possessiveness that he did not often allow himself to portray. She was her own person, after all. That was why he loved her. But also, she was his and he wanted her to know. He glanced away at the thought, a hint of color in his cheeks as he laughed at himself, thinking once more like the foolish teenager he thought he had lost so long ago. Then, looking back to her, he found her eyes, bright and alive and more beautiful with each passing day. And with more quiet confidence in his voice than she had likely ever heard, he added,
“I love you, too.”
Were they sitting in
the same place now, as he leaned forward to kiss her, as they had been when
he’d first done that? She thought so. There was no similarity, though, between
then and now. The first time had been nervous, sudden and neither of them had known
quite whether they ought to regret it. Enough time had passed since then that
he was able to take his time with her and she turned her face towards his hand
as it traced over her cheek.
There were tears burning her eyes, but
she didn’t realise it until she heard him say it, until she heard the words – I
love you, too – and then she let out a laugh that was so strongly coloured by
relief it was almost a sob. She looked down at their linked hands, trying not
to let him see her being this emotional, and pressed her eyes closed to stop
them from overflowing.
She was used to hearing, “this means
nothing”; “I don’t want anything serious”; “you know we aren’t exclusive,
right?”. Her instinct was to reject his
words and replace them with some other explanation. Maybe Auron was right,
maybe Braska only tolerated her so well because that was what he did; maybe he
was humouring her, maybe he thought she needed to hear it. But for her to
believe any of these theories, she would have to call him a liar, and that was
not something she felt able to do; at all. In all the time they had known each
other, he had never lied to her, had never given her reason to doubt him.
As she looked up, she understood that
she had made the right decision. By now, she thought she knew his face as well
as she knew her own, and she was sure she hadn’t seen this exact expression on
him before, pink-cheeked, laughing and mildly bewildered. She had told him she
loved him, and there was nothing more
than that she could say – was there? Even though, right now, the words
seemed far too small and insignificant to carry nearly as much meaning as she
needed them to. Instead of saying anything at all, she wrenched her hands free,
threw her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, laughing at herself,
at her nerves and her foolishness, as she hid her face against his shoulder and
her fingertips curled into the fabric of
his shirt. The scent of his skin mixed with that of his clothes and the ever-present
tea was the deepest comfort, and for a moment, Chuami felt a sense of complete
contentment. After all the evenings spent curled up at his side, all the casual
kisses exchanged for no reason other than their possibility, all the nights she’d
slept in his arms – somehow this was
the closest she’d ever felt to him.
But as soon as she acknowledged
it, something began to feel wrong. This was too easy. He was too open with her,
too kind to her, he felt too real in her arms. It was all too familiar.
I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve him.
There was a pause – a fraction of a
second in which she fought this idea and lost – then the tears she had been
holding back spilled over and began to dampen his shoulder. Chuami had the
strangest feeling that when she let go of him, she might never hold him this
close again; but at the same time, she feared that her presence might be
damaging him somehow even now, like she might be poisonous.
“You can’t say that.”
It came out as a whisper, her face
still hidden against him. She drew back, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes
downcast and her cheeks wet.
“You can’t say that.” she repeated,
loud enough to be heard this time, though her voice caught in her throat.
“I have to tell you… I didn’t mean to
keep it secret, I never meant to hide anything, I…”
It sounded weak, even to her own ears.
There had been times she could have brought it up, but she didn’t, because she
was scared. Hadn’t she deliberately avoided the subject only a few minutes ago?
The truth was, she had lied.
She looked up but was unable to speak
for a few seconds. Her voice trailed off, her hands withdrew. She pulled her
knees up to her chin and sat, staring at the floor.
“There’s
a reason I never told you before. I… really didn’t want to love you. I’ve only
ever felt like this once before.
“Her name was
(I can’t say it I can’t talk about it I can’t think about this–)
Turning on her heels, Sieglinde blinked, looking at the newcomer. How could she didn’t even notice her presence?
«Oh! Hello there, friend!», she greeted her, with a polite nod of her head. «Do forgive me… I was lost in thought. These flowers are… truly enrapturing.»
She checked the bow held by the young girl with mild interest; was she a hunter? Rising her gaze to her delicate features, she met the stranger’s eyes.
Oh…
The first word that came up to her mind was: “gem”. She never saw such a magnetic and pleasing hue… it certainly was pretty unique.
A smile jollied up the knight’s lips, as she snorted in amusement at the girl’s humorous words.
«… I’m afraid I do not know what a “hotel” is… is it some sort of fruit? Are you hungry?» Her hands immediately reached for her bags. «If that’s so, I’ll gladly share what I’ve got with you.»
–– ☽☼☾
The last time Chuami had seen someone stare at a light source like that, she’d had to throw a prism stone at the man to get his attention.
“Not a friend of that sun knight, are you?” she ventured.
The knight, now revealed to be female, was possessed of a voice that seemed far too delicate for her combat-ready presentation. Another link between her and that sunsick oddball, she thought, and once the connection had been made, she couldn’t stop herself from trusting this funny onion girl.
“Mm? What are…? Ah. No. I suppose I don’t know what they are either,” she said, tapping her bow, thoughtfully, with one finger. “Sorry about that. Happens, sometimes. Thou knows what’s edible around here, then? I’d appreciate some instruction on that. I forewarn you, there’s no point poisoning and robbing me. All I carry of value is the bow, and unless you want the Dark Sun chasing you down to get it back, I’d not touch it.”
Panning through screens upon screens of data was not the best, however the only excitement in Angel’s life. In a way, it surprised her when her father had updated Angel’s capabilities, improving her gaze far beyond what she could reach before. Yes, with these new additions to her what now seemed to be tiny gaze on Pandora, she could see farther, and with seeing farther came more instruction from her father who Angel dreaded to follow, but with seeing farther also came more people, conversations, and lives for Angel to pick up on.
Angel was quite a fan of that. As her gaze reached the space of one person, she watched quietly for quite a while, before pointing out, matter-of-factly, something she found to be important. She would help where she could, it’s not like her dad could see her.
“The batteries go in the opposite direction.” With a poorly-restrained giggle, Angel’s voice hit the ears of the one she was observing.
“Is that why it’s not work– wait, WHAT?!”
Chuami instinctively turned to face the voice, realizing as she did so that there was no direction she could turn; it had come from within, it seemed.
“Oh, hell. This is it. This place is getting to me. I’m gonna end up one of those gas mask psychos. Gonna be screaming about meat puppets and poop trains. I should never have come here.”
Well… while I’m talking to empty space, I might as well talk to the voice in my head.
It was
uncommon to see Fran shocked and Chuami just told her many things that, alone,
would put her in such a state in only a few sentences. Viera were usually a
subtle race, but at that moment, anyone could read Fran’s face.
She
remembered her trip to Zanarkand again. Auron took her there to see the truth
about himself. He couldn’t tell her. He had to show her. And she did. Yunalesca
striking his younger self was still vivid in her mind. She had nightmares about
it too, although she never told him about them. Then he explained what he
was after she asked him what he was.
It took her
an incredible amount of time to speak again as all sorts of emotions rushed in
at the same time. She loved Chuami as if she was family. Part of it was because
she was Auron’s long lost daughter, but really, the young woman held most of
the credits for how Fran felt about her. So when the pieces fell together…
“You are an unsent,” she said as neutral as
possible, unsure about how she felt about the situation.
Chuami blinked in confusion; then it slowly dawned on her that she had just told Fran something of grave importance as if it were a throwaway piece of trivia. How had she felt, when she found out about Auron? It never occurred to her that others might feel that same way about her, and so she spoke of her Unsent status as if it were a minor inconvenience.
“Ah… of course… you didn’t… you didn’t know that…”
With a heavy sigh, she looked out of the window for a moment, then back at Fran.
“I’m sorry. I… it was so long ago that I forget. I know how weird that sounds, but… I feel more like I had an accident that left me sick, not like I… well, you know. I didn’t mean to just drop that on you like that. I’m sorry.”
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