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Velvet knew the language of flowers; that was always a fact that had surprised Eizen. He supposed it being such a niche, if delicate skill made it something he wouldn’t expect from Velvet, not when he saw her tearing across a battlefield and causing carnage on a regular basis. The flames of her desire to live— fueled by hatred and revenge as they were— burned as some of the brightest and most constant of any of the humans he had come to know. To see that fire simmer into a calm flicker, crackling steadily behind her eyes as she explained the meaning of flowers her family had taught her once was, in a way, jarring, but in another, special, in that ephemeral way that only humans could manage.
Velvet knew the language of flowers ; it was with this thought circling through his head that Eizen went to approach her. With the Port Zekson inn not too far away, she sat at the edge of the pier, legs swaying gently where they rested a few feet over the waves. He had come to know that this was where he could find her, no matter where they were— she seemed naturally drawn to areas where she could stare out at sea, and as a pirate, he couldn’t say he didn’t see the appeal.
He made his way easily around the merchants that were packing up their wares for the end of the afternoon, chatting under the last remaining rays of clear blue sky, just before sunset was to start.
He didn’t have to announce his presence as he sat down easily next to her; he had seen that Velvet had stopped kicking her legs, and that was all the indication he needed to know she had heard him coming— and he had complete faith in the knowledge that if she didn’t want to talk to him, she simply wouldn’t. No need for invitations.
“Eizen,” Velvet said by way of greeting. If his shoulders were tense when he folded his arms across his chest, he’d attribute it to the fact that his shoulders were always tense, and nothing more. “Weren’t you running errands for the Van Eltia? I didn’t expect you to finish so soon.”
“Aye, I didn’t either. Apparently trade has been sparse enough that they were willing to take what they could get, without me or Benwick having to haggle the price much.”
Eizen swore he could see the slightest hint of a grin ghosting on her lips. “Happy to help,” she said dryly, knowing full well her recent activities had ruined the shipping market around the area.
A few moments of peaceful silence passed before he spoke again. “The others are at the inn already. They’re arguing over the order of who gets to bathe.”
She didn’t look over at him but rather raised an eyebrow at the curved horizon in front of her. “And you don’t care about missing that?”
He gave a slight shrug. “The water’s going to run cold the moment I step in regardless, so it doesn’t really matter to me if I’m first or last.”
She gave a soft hum to indicate she had heard. Maybe it was because he couldn’t help but note how the glittering blue of the waves under the sky were such a contrast to her long, dark strands of hair, but Eizen found himself saying, “You’re always somewhere looking at the sea, when you can be. On the Van Eltia’s bow, at the cliffs.” His voice was a simple, neutral statement, no more and no less.
She let out a slight chuckle, though unlike usual there was little bite to it. “Are you calling me predictable?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “I don’t think anyone could call you that, without needing their heads checked.”
This time he didn’t interrupt the silence, instead pulling out his coin and beginning to flip it. The sun was just beginning its descent, the soft yellow rays peeking through the clouds at odds with the bright sky above them. The sea breeze was welcome, though Eizen tried not to contemplate whether his hair being blown directly into his eyes was part of the Reaper’s Curse or not. He decided to settle on not, just to spite Magilou.
At length Velvet spoke, her voice soft in a way it rarely ever was. “Laphi loved the ocean. I always told him to stay in bed and not make himself sicker, but no matter how many times we’d ask him to stay away from the Tranquil Forest, he’d run off to the cliffside whenever he could.” A slightly fond chuckle slipped through her lips. “He never did listen.”
“He sounds like a free spirit.” Eizen meant it; he didn’t give out compliments half-heartedly.
Velvet’s smile simply turned softer, if a little sadder, in response.
After a few moments, Eizen pocketed the coin and uncomfortably cleared his throat. “I… have a favor to ask you,” he said, very seriously.
At last she took her eyes away from the view, training a slightly wide-eyed gaze on Eizen. Now it was his turn to suddenly find the waves beneath his feet very interesting.
“A favor? You need me to steal another ship?”
He crossed his arms slightly tighter, frown deepening. “I could easily do that myself.” He may have sounded a bit too defensive. He cleared his throat. “No, I, uh…”
This was ridiculous. The Reaper didn’t get nervous. He turned his head towards Velvet (though it was more like whipped his head, apparently, since he did it so vigorously that she blinked a few more times at him, like he had just grown a second head) and spoke, firmly. “I’m putting together a bouquet. I want your help arranging its meaning.”
She studied him. He could see the cogs running behind her eyes, and since he knew it was coming he answered in a softer tone before she could ask, “It’s for my sister.” He was staring down at his gloves while picturing much smaller hands. “I know I’ve sent letters in the past but I thought I could… do something different this time.” He gave a shrug, half-nonchalant, half-tired. “Thought she might appreciate it.”
The waves were loud, crashing against everything in their way— piers, boats, each other. The sky was slowly being stained orange above them, as the sun trailed downwards like a drop of viscous honey.
“Okay,” Velvet said in a mellow tone. He couldn’t help but look back at her, in slight surprise. This time she shrugged. “Only because I want to. Eastgand has the most variety of flowers in one place, and if you’re going to pick them I want to drop some off at my sister’s grave anyway.”
She had become so much more open about her past, her family, since they had made it out of that Earthpulse point far from unscathed, but starting to heal.
Eizen nodded. “I’ll have Benwick prepare the Van Eltia to sail tomorrow.”
With a practical nod she stood up, briefly brushing off her clothes before turning away from the pier. After a few steps, she called back, “You’re not coming?”
Eizen remained seated, looking out over the setting sun and offered a nonchalant shrug.
He could hear her smirk before she kept walking. “Don’t blame me if there isn’t any bathing water left at all, cold or otherwise.”
He chuckled, trying to skip a rock across the water. Before it could reach the water, a seagull swooped in and caught it in its mouth.
Laphicet had been pouting when Eizen and Velvet set out from Taliesen.
“I don’t see why we can’t all go.”
“It’s just a short errand,” Eizen explained. The last pirate he had been talking to saluted and went to do his task.
Velvet added, “We’ll be back in a day, at most.”
Magilou opened her mouth as if to say something lewd, but Rokurou immediately clasped his hand over it. “Come on, Laphicet, don’t be upset— you can train with me today.” Magilou let out incoherent noises of protest, probably more for the sake of being loud than anything else.
“Or I’m sure Grimoirh has a new book you can practice on,” Eleanor added.
Eizen and Velvet had already begun to walk away when he heard Laphicet chirp out, “Okay!”
“Don’t burn any villages down while you’re gone!” Magilou had called when she was finally released.
She taught him the words behind flowers as they went, putting into petals what he wished to say to his sister.
Lavender Heather: admiration; solitude.
It was different fighting enemies when it was just the two of them— in a group it was more hectic, calling out to communicate intentions, just barely dodging out of the way of an ally’s attack, rolling with as much as around each other. But when it was just Eizen and Velvet it was noticing each other out of the corner of their eyes, it was pressing back to back as they rotated and swapped between monsters, silently weaving together like two streams into a river’s mouth, it was not needing to say anything as Velvet ducked under one of his punches, sweeping out her legs to knock down the enemy a second after his fist connected with their chin.
He couldn’t exactly say how, but she knew to cover him when he was casting with barely a word passed between them, and he knew when to take a far enemy and give her space to do something acrobatic.
It made the trip almost laughably easy, even despite his usual propensity for misfortune.
Molucca Balm: good fortune.
She’d ask him what kind of messages he wanted to send to his sister, and then tell him which flowers to look out for. She seemed more openly curious, like this, asking more about where he and his sister had lived, of what she was like, of how he felt those first few years where he had ‘haunted’ Aifread’s crew. She seemed less guarded when not in front of a crowd, or maybe she simply recognized Eizen as someone who also kept their heart close to their chest— she could ask, and he would answer, and neither of them would go out and speak unnecessarily about it.
Azalea: take care of yourself for me; a fondness for home; a longing to return to family.
He’d ask the same of her in return, and again she answered more easily than normal, most likely knowing that when it was from Eizen, there was no need to answer if she didn’t feel inclined to do so— not now, not unless it was vital. And they didn’t speak of anything vital. They shared the precious little nothings that meant something to them. She spoke of family dinners, of hunting prickelboars for medicine, of a boy and his maps, his books, sharing a bed with her when he had nightmares, with hair almost as pale as his skin.
They also spoke of more present times, of things the other may have missed, like Rokurou drinking over half of Eizen’s shipmates under the table in one challenge, of Magilou, accidentally dyeing Eleanor’s clothing bright purple one night at the inn, of their thoughts on Grimoirh as Laphicet’s teacher, of the price they could fetch for Dyle’s tail on the market.
White Heather: protection.
And there were many other moments, as they crossed the rocky forests of Eastgand, abloom with flowers despite the constant state of Autumn, that they didn’t have to speak at all. The silence was a comforting one, acknowledging that when they spoke it was because they wanted to, not because of a need to fill some gap. Sometimes the only sound was of a battle just finished, or the toss of a coin, or wildlife, never too far from them, all interspersed with Velvet pointing out a flower when she saw one, leaving it up to Eizen to decide whether it was relevant enough to pick up or not.
Yellow Zinnia: daily remembrance.
To his own surprise, Eizen found himself more honest under the thin veil of flowers, being able to gather up messages for his sister that he couldn’t put down on paper unless he knew from the start it was in a letter not meant to be sent. Velvet was patient, at least at her own standard. She had only made one or two comments and long-suffering sighs as Eizen spent far too long meticulously studying each flower, dew-dropped as they were from earlier rain, deciding which one was just right to be picked and sent. She warned him not to pick any that seemed too-far in bloom, since they’d have to stay fresh through the delivery.
Purple Hyacinth: I am sorry.
They were almost done when they came upon Aball, this time as empty as it truly was. The sun was setting around them, leaving the sky as orange-red as the trees, for a moment seeming to get rid of the horizon altogether. Eizen’s inner coat pocket where he was gently tucking away each bunch of flowers as he gathered them was getting full.
Oleander: caution
The last flower, she said, was just past the tranquil woods. Eizen understood again how the area got its namesake, the land even more peaceful than the areas before it. Velvet lead the path like it was a long-visited dream, one that she could manage with her eyes closed (though Eizen couldn’t shake the feeling that she also walked it like a soldier who has gone up and down the trenches too many times not to know the way). When they came upon the Shrine of Tranquility they sat around the field of Princessia flowers that grew just on the cliffside, for once in no need to hurry.
Yellow tulip: there’s sunshine in your smile.
The ocean was loud, glittering and chaotic under the dark evening sky The moon, so close to the cycle of a Scarlet Night was getting close to full, shining brightly between the gathering of clouds.
“Will she know what you mean?” Velvet asked, motioning her chin towards the flowers Eizen was studying.
“My sister is sharp. If she doesn’t know their meanings already, she’ll know how to find them.”
Velvet didn’t respond as he set the flowers aside, stems under a small rock so the breeze wouldn’t carry them away. He leaned back against his hands, mimicking her position as he joined her to look up at the sky. “You said flowers often have more than one meaning.”
“Yeah.”
“What else do Princessias mean?”
Velvet scoffed, voice dry. “Other than ‘betrayal’?”
He simply looked towards her. She stared back. Her eyes were so bright, under the tranquility of the evening. Despite her usual deadpan they were shining, working with the moon to render her usually-strict features softer. Maybe it wasn’t the moonlight; maybe it was being back in Aball, the honest Aball, and the promise of resolution (of some kind) so close to their grasp that made her entire posture look more at ease, that made her eyes look yellow as dandelions. Dandelions, she had said earlier, faithfulness; happiness. He was sure that was true of her, once, had seen it in the Earthpulse’s memories.
She glanced down, studying the moistened grass that pressed into her bandaged hand as she quoted, from some source unknown to him “‘An irreplaceable treasure; wishing you well for many years to come.’” After a pause, “That would probably suit a message for your bouquet too, huh?”
“Probably.” Now it was his turn to study his hands— he hadn’t realized until then how close their hands had gotten in the grass, fingertips only a breath apart. “But I’ll leave that as your sister’s favorite. Besides, it would probably be a bad omen to pick for one person’s message a flower that is being used for another’s grave.”
This time when she scoffed there was no malice behind it. “I thought you didn’t let things like that control your life.”
Eizen shrugged, half-heartedly. “It’s not controlling my life if I’m the one that chooses to follow it.”
She shook her head, and he watched as her hair brushed over the pale skin at her shoulders. He was surprised to hear her laugh, as short and subdued as it was. “None of you will ever make sense to me.”
As her laughter subsided she looked over at him, and Eizen watched as her eyes refocused, blinking once or twice at having caught him watching. It happened again where they didn’t have to speak, through flowers or otherwise.
His face was drifting closer, seemingly of its own free will.
Their journey’s final battle was approaching soon, and they both knew that survival was no one’s guarantee; from wound, from malevolence, from disappearance— there were too many ways to die to regard their chances of anything other than slim, no matter how brightly their desires to live burned.
Her head titled slightly to the side.
All six of them were aware of this, but it was the desire to push against the impossible anyway that had always impressed Eizen about humanity.
She closed her eyes, and he followed.
Hell, he was partaking in it. When over the last few hundred years had he become so human?
He paused just a breath away from her lips, and was about to take a step back and contemplate the way he always prided himself on doing, when Velvet pressed her lips to his in a sudden burst.
It was tentative, and awkward, and surprisingly soft, but just like everything else about Velvet it was also direct, honest. There was a level of force behind it, the kind of confidence that said ‘This is what I want. If you don’t like it, leave. If you do, deal with it.’
She moved to break apart and Eizen found himself chasing her lips with his, shifting to steady himself so that one hand rested back against the slightly damp earth beneath them, the other fitting itself against Velvet’s waist. She leaned forward, twining her arms around Eizen’s neck, deepening the kiss. When she trailed one hand down to rest against the expanse of his chest Eizen couldn’t help but squeeze, gloved fingers digging into the torn fabric of her clothes. She let out a breathy sound against his lips at the feeling, which Eizen was quite sure was liable to drive him mad.
He caught her lower lip between his teeth, nipping, and she let out another sound, this time half-frustrated with desire. She pressed closer, closer, one arm cupping his neck to bring it downward and the other fisting in his waistcoat’s fabric to pull him in (if he was in the right state of mind he would complain about the wrinkling of his meticulously cleaned clothes, but right now he couldn’t focus on anything but the soft plushness of Velvet’s skin, and underneath that the taught muscles of her limbs, and her feverish warmth, how could she be so warm when she couldn’t even fell the temperature?) pressing, pressing.
And then, the palm of his hand dug so tensely into the ground beneath it that it slipped against the still-wet grass, sending him toppling backward with an unceremonious thump of his head. His other arm had automatically tightened around Velvet’s waist as she fell with him.
They lay there in silence, but this time it felt awkward, far from the companionable kind that had naturally developed between them. Velvet started to laugh, a low, teasing sound. Eizen let out a groan, squinting up with no small amount vexation at the night sky above them.
“I think I have a concussion,” he grumbled.
“A Reaper can’t get a concussion,” Velvet chuckled again from her spot below— or rather, half on top of— him.
“I think he just did.”
“Quit whining.” When had her voice become so fond? He chose not to think about the idea of someone being more open with their feelings once they knew they were approaching a likelihood of death. He couldn’t; at any other time he would be practical, but just not tonight.
“A Reaper doesn’t whine ,” he retorted, in a way that sounded oddly like whining, even to his own ears.
“I think he just did.”
In playful annoyance he shoved her, which only lead to her shoving him back, harder, until suddenly they slipped again and her body was landing even more on top of his than it was before with a comfortable weight.
With Velvet pressed plush against him, staring at him with her face so close to his and one eyebrow raised, expression maddeningly confident as it always was, he ducked his head down to recapture her lips and thought maybe this time his Reaper’s nature wasn’t so much a curse as a blessing, if it led to this.