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The market was a bustle of activity, as always. Ardainians of all ranks of society bartered and traded for goods and gold in all directions. There was something utterly infectious about the livelihood of it all and Brighid loved every second of it. She often found herself wandering the shops, watching as the denizens of her nation went about their daily lives, while also finding the time to pick up a thing or two for herself. A sweet treat or a soothing cream.
Today was a tad different. She wasn’t alone. Mὸrag had actually volunteered to accompany her, which was quite the rare decision on her part. More often than not, her Driver would come up with some excuse to avoid the crowd. Paperwork. She always had paperwork. Today, though, Mὸrag had grown frustrated by a stack of reports written by some of her most recent recruits. After throwing her pen down with a growl, she had asked if Brighid felt like taking a walk.
And that’s how they ended up browsing the shops in Alba Cavanich.
Mὸrag was relatively silent, occasionally forcing a smile at members of the nobility that walked by. Brighid didn’t mind much. It was nice to simply have the woman with her. Though they spent most of their time together, they were typically forced to conform to the formalities required in Hardhaigh Palace. Actual affection in public wasn’t particularly smiled upon amongst the royal guards. Out in the city, however… well, Brighid had been hoping for something a little different… but…
Mὸrag was keeping a decent pace ahead of her.
With a sigh, Brighid continued to look around at the other shoppers. A pair passing the dessert cart caught her eye. The women had matching flowers tucked behind their ears and were giggling at each other, fingers laced and eyes glowing as if they only had sight for one another. They looked so… happy… and free. Two things that Brighid longed to share with the Driver that had stolen her heart.
She hadn’t realized her sigh had been audible until Mὸrag was suddenly at her side.
“Are you alright, Brighid?”
“Y-yes, Lady Mὸrag. Just lost in thought.” She gave the women one last, lingering look, before forcing herself to continue walking.
Mὸrag frowned as her Blade went on ahead. Something about those women had surely caught her eye… that’s when she spotted it. A soft grin tugged at her lips and she quickly looked around until she spotted a particular shop.
Brighid was looking at the new selection of hand creams at her favorite store when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she came face-to-face with her rather sheepish looking Driver.
“I saw what you were so focused on earlier.”
The Blade raised her brow. Mὸrag had noticed the women, too?
“Perhaps you would indulge me for a moment?”
Her heart sped at the implication.
“Of course, Lady Mὸrag.”
She moved a hand forward, aiming to grasp gloved fingers when they were finally brought out from their placed behind the woman’s back. Instead, those fingers were revealed to be holding tightly to beautiful white flower. The stem had been cut short and curved forward for a reason she didn’t quite understand until she felt Mὸrag toying with her hair. The bun on the right side of her head was gently pushed aside and the flower was tucked behind her ear.
“There…” Mὸrag’s smile was incredibly soft. “It offers quite the beautiful contrast if I may say. Perhaps those women were on to something.”
Brighid’s breath quickened as she reached a hand up toward the flower. That’s what her Driver had noticed? The flowers in their hair? And she had…
Before she could bother to say anything, the flames in her hair promptly ignited the poor little bud. Mὸrag stepped back in shock as the flower quickly turned to ash. That had not gone as planned. Her eyes bent with regret as she reached out and began brushing its charred remains off her Blade’s hair.
“My apologies, Brighid.” Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose I didn’t think that through… I just wanted to-“
“It’s alright.” The Blade couldn’t help but smile at her rather oblivious Driver. “Most people don’t have hair tipped with fire. I appreciate the gesture.”
Mὸrag frowned. “I get the sense this was not what you were expecting when I…”
A blush overcame Brighid’s cheeks and she quickly turned away.
“I see… then if not the flowers, I believe I might have a guess as to what caught your eye.”
She refused to look back at the Ardainian.
“Brighid? May I?”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Lady Mὸrag.”
“Is that so?”
A gloved hand gently grasped her heated fingers. Brighid’s heart sped rapidly in her chest as she turned to her Driver in shock. Mὸrag merely smiled in response and more firmly laced their fingers together.
“I see no harm in it, do you?”
“L-Lady Mὸrag…”
The Inquisitor tugged her forward and they slowly resumed their walk, hand-in-hand.
“I must apologize, Brighid. I’m not always cognizant of how aloof I can be. I know that can’t be easy for you, especially when most of our time in spent under the prying gaze of the palace nobility.”
“It’s fine, Lady Mὸrag.”
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “You deserve better from me. You gazed at those women because they were expressing their feelings for one another in a way in which I’ve refrained. I think the fact that I completely misread the situation just proves my point.”
Brighid wrapped her free arm around her Driver’s bicep and leaned against her. “I never doubt your feelings for me. The flower was a kind thought, though short-lived, and you’re awfully cute when you’re being completely oblivious.”
“But?”
“…But a little affection outside the palace walls would be nice.”
Mὸrag smiled and leaned in, pushing her lips against Brighid’s cheek. “Then perhaps I’ll join you on these little shopping ventures more often.”
“I’d like that… so long as you refrain from burning things in my hair.”
“Roger that, Brighid.”