Chapter Text
"Well, it was about time," said Trahearne.
The three of them stood atop a nearby rise, watching Rytlock and Logan field the reaction from the rest of Destiny's Edge with remarkable stoicism. Orin still wasn't sure she could believe it, despite having just heard the human and charr admit to being in a relationship. "I thought they hated each other."
Trahearne chuckled. "They've always wanted to impress each other too much for it to be simply a matter of pride. Apparently the rest of Destiny's Edge has been placing bets on when for ages."
On Orin's other side, Sieran had a hand pressed to her chest. "Love really is wondrous," she said wistfully. "I'm so grateful to have had the chance to experience it for myself."
Orin shot her a quizzical look. "Since when? Not a week after we met, you were telling me that you wanted to experience it one day, or something like that."
Quite unexpectedly, Sieran flushed, a copper hue coloring her cheeks. "Oh... well, it's simply a turn of phrase..." She fumbled for words, and then caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, one moment- Caithe! I, uh, wanted to have a word with you..." She rushed off down the slope to where Caithe was standing apart from the group, busy counting out what seemed to be a hefty sum of gold coins.
That was weird, Orin thought, even for Sieran.
Back by where the rest of Destiny's Edge was gathered, Logan and Rytlock seemed to now be deeply regretting their announcement. Mr. Sparkles had thoroughly cut off all exits as Zojja grilled them with question after question.
"Well, good for them, I guess," Orin said. "Although... a charr and a human? Can that really last?"
Trahearne seemed unaffected. "No doubt there have been stranger things," he mused. "The world could use a little less hate, and a little more love."
Sieran returned to them not long after that, and they took their leave around the same time as Caithe, Eir, and Zojja.
As they walked away, Orin couldn't help but glance back at the new couple. Logan was grumbling some complaint, and Rytlock gave a rumble, rubbing the side of Logan's face with his own. Orin looked away out of modesty. In doing so, she noticed that Sieran was also watching the couple with an undisguised interest.
"Is that a charr thing?" Sieran asked curiously. "I've seen it before, between charr who were romantically inclined, but I didn't think much of it at the time."
Orin cleared her throat. "Yeah," she said, a little flustered by the line of questioning. "Charr have scent glands on our cheeks that we use to mark our partners. Doing that, it's... like a kiss."
Sieran turned away from Logan and Rytlock. "Interesting," she said, "how the races of Tyria can be so similar and yet so different. It's fascinating. Have I ever told you about sylvari pollen? We exude it from our skin, all year round but especially in the springtime-"
"We should hurry up," Trahearne called back, "if we want to make it to the camp by nightfall."
Sieran, to Orin's surprise, stopped her rambling, giving Orin a tight-lipped smile. "Yes! That's right. Sorry to hold things up!"
The topic didn't come up again for another few days, when the trio was ambushed by a group of bandits as they crossed a mountain pass. Despite easily being able to overpower each bandit individually, their numbers made for a difficult fight.
Four of them had managed to corner Sieran, and when she shrieked, Orin saw red. On her command a set of grasping hands broke through the ground and grabbed at their feet, and Trahearne covered Orin's back as she tore down two of the bandits in quick succession, daggers flashing.
Sieran handily dispatched the other two. "Phew," she breathed out as the last of them fell. "For a second I thought-"
Her words were cut off as Orin barreled into her, wrapping her up in a hug.
"That was too close," Orin muttered, rubbing her face against Sieran's with a rush of relief.
Sieran gave a breathless laugh. "Orin, that tickles! I'm fine, besides- Oh!" she gasped, pulling back and staring at Orin with wide eyes. "You just kissed me."
Orin stared back at her. She was suddenly very thankful that charr couldn't blush. "I- uh-" She stepped back, and when Sieran glanced to the side, Orin followed her gaze. Trahearne was standing a few feet away. He wasn't looking at them, but he had an air of attentiveness that told her that he had heard, and perhaps seen, what had transpired.
"Well! Let's keep going before more of them show up!" Sieran announced, sheathing her daggers and walking past the two of them.
Trahearne glanced at Orin, his expression mild. "Good idea," he said. "Onward, then."
Orin nodded, following behind them quietly. She was grateful for the silence. Her mind was spinning. She hadn't meant to do that… if she was being honest, she had forgotten that Sieran knew what it meant. She had just felt such relief that Sieran was okay.
What's more, she had the distinct feeling that Sieran had left some trace of scent on her as well. She knew that sylvari didn't have the same scent glands that charr did. So why could she still smell her so strongly, all vibrant maple and cherry blossom? Was it all in her head?
That night they camped out on a hilltop, in an area recently cleared by a group of Seraph. Trahearne took first watch. As usual, Sieran fell asleep almost immediately after laying down, but Orin lay awake until she couldn't feign sleep any longer.
Trahearne gave her a nod as Orin got up and moved to his side of the fire.
She sat beside him in silence for a while. She knew that Trahearne wouldn't bring up that day's events, not unless she did. Somehow that made it more imperative that she do so.
"What, uh..." she said at last. "What happened today was... it just..."
Trahearne had been listening patiently, but when she trailed off, he spoke up. "You don't have to explain," he said kindly. "Sylvari are no strangers to affection, and Sieran certainly inspires it." His smile was fond as he gazed across the fire at her sleeping form.
"Sylvari don't have pheromones, do they?"
Trahearne looked back at her.
Orin ducked her head. She wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to ask, but it had been bothering her. "I know you have scents. But I... from Sieran's skin, I thought, I mean, I can still... smell it." She stumbled over her words.
Trahearne leaned in closer. His golden eyes were steady and sure. "Do you mean our pollen?"
"Pollen?" Sieran had mentioned something about that.
Trahearne held out his arm. The skin glowed, and in its glow she could see small particles glinting like dust in sunlight. Orin was transfixed. "It doesn't serve any reproductive purpose, but we all have it, and its scent and hue differ slightly for each of us." He lifted his hand. Now that she was looking for it, she could see the specks on his palm, sparkling a brilliant gold. "Most other races don't even notice it, though I suppose that..." His eyes still locked on hers, he reached out slowly. "A charr with a keen sense of smell..." His palm skimmed the fur at the side of her face. Orin momentarily forgot how to breathe. "Might be able to recognize it."
Trahearne's scent was cool and crisp. Evergreen.
The sylvari withdrew, looking a little surprised at himself. "I apologize," he said quietly, lowering his gaze. "That was… inappropriate."
Orin shook her head. It was hard for her to concentrate, with Sieran's scent on one side of her and Trahearne's now on the other. "It's just a little overwhelming," she admitted. "I didn't realize that sylvari pollen was so strong."
"Charr have much more developed olfactory senses," Trahearne agreed quietly. "Sieran and I will be mindful of that from now on."
Orin snorted. "Sieran? Mindful?"
That earned a chuckle from Trahearne. "Well, you have a point there.”
Shortly after the conversation had faded into companionable silence, Orin stepped out into the darkness under the guise of relieving herself and scrubbed at her cheeks. It wasn't that she didn't like having their scents on her; they'd been traveling together for long enough that most charr could probably tell she stank of sylvari. But having them that strong was confusing, distracting. She didn't want to be constantly thinking about the sweet softness of Sieran's cheek beneath her own, or the smooth brush of Trahearne's palm-
Augh! Orin grabbed two fistfuls of grass, rubbing them onto her face. That seemed to help; fresh grass still made her think of sylvari, but not two sylvari in particular.
They were her friends. She'd even begun to think of them as her new warband. Adding in new feelings to the mix... surely that was too much. Too complicated. Orin was deeply grateful to have found them at all, and that was enough. It had to be.