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Sometimes, he couldn’t stop thinking about how small he was.
It had never been a point of contention between them. Ike didn’t have to comment on his tactician’s height to know that wasn’t a subject to traipse about—Boyd had proven enough what a poor decision that would make. Ike wasn’t the type of man to judge for those sort of superficial details, either, or other, deeper details, like the origin or Soren’s birthmark.
No, the mercenary focused more on how the little mage tended to move like his magic. His steps were light enough that Ike had never heard them, and maybe it was just his hair or robes, but Ike had sworn that there was some sort of grace to the wind mage.
But for now, all he could think about was Soren’s size.
The strategist fit perfectly into Ike’s lap, and as if to remind himself of that fact, he found himself wrapping his arms around Soren, curling around the mage because it just felt right.
Before Ike knew it, a soft grumble was heard from Soren, and Ike compared it in his head to a cat’s purr.
"Do you mind?" Soren asked.
"No," Ike answered, smiling. "Do you?"
Soren didn’t. But Ike was distracting from his reading, and the tome was one detailing strategies utilized in a great war. It was something that had to be learned from, but all Soren could think about was how Ike had this certain smell to him… Something faintly of iron and dirt, but there was something else that was much more pleasant and wholly distracting.
He sighed, closing the book softly after marking his place.
"I suppose I’ll not win this one," he started, shutting his eyes and leaning his head backwards. Even though Ike was curled around him, he was still trying to get closer.
The mercenary gave some sound of amusement, holding Soren tighter. ”You’re a brilliant strategist,” he said, “But victory is mine.”
A small smile graced Soren’s features. It was the kind of smile that Ike loved. The tactician never smiled, not without planning some devious strategy that carried the day or unless he was smugly outwitting unsuspecting shopkeepers. Ike got the most smiles out of him, and Soren didn’t have to win a thing for Ike to get the prize.
"I wasn’t aware this was a battle. Resignation usually ceases any fighting." A slender, pale hand was removed from the book in Soren’s lap, sliding gently across Ike’s cheek and twisting fingers into Ike’s hair. "If it’s war you want, I’ll have to reconsider my strategies."
"No, no," Ike replied. He didn’t realize he was leaning into Soren’s hand. "I’d never want to pick a fight with you, and that’s ignoring the fact I’d lose."
"You would, wouldn’t you?"