Work Text:
A fire burns
Water comes
You cool me down
-o-o-o-
The Phantom Flower of Nevira might have started out as a rare phenomenon, but almost three years after the unification of Dahna and Rena, the sight is now common enough that most Cyslodians no longer take great notice of it. She wonders if it’s because all they see are the glowing lights, unable to sense the astral energy permeating the air. Maybe it’s best that she’s the only one who appreciates it anyway, so she wouldn’t have to share her treasured spot with a crowd. The small clearing is tucked away behind some trees at the end of the Nevira Snowplains lake. A quiet sanctuary just for her, Hootle and her thoughts.
Taking in a deep breath of cool air, Rinwell pulls her hood over her head and sits back on a soft patch of grass, tucking her book behind as a make-shift pillow. Hootle is much too big now to fit in her clothing, although he still hasn’t grown as large as some of the other owls she has seen. He gives a quiet chirp as he settles down next to her.
“You keep watch, okay?” She smiles, petting him on the head, and he chirps again in reply. They aren’t in much danger here. Over the years, most of the wild zeugles in the area had been cleared by the militia. The plains are safer for locals and travellers these days.
She closes her eyes and basks under the shimmering lights in the sky. There is a sort of warmth to it, like rays of sunlight during the day. It hums in her blood and crackles under her skin, just like the feeling of charging an arte. It feels familiar and safe, like a clan gathering in her grandfather’s yurt, or how Dahna’s will had felt years ago at The Wedge. It feels like home, and the thought kindles a sudden pang of longing in her heart.
She doesn’t know exactly how much time passes as she lies there in content, soaking in the calming energy, but the sound of Hootle flapping his wings with a quiet warning hoot stirs her back to reality. There are careful footsteps splashing past the shallow lake bed, then shoes rustling through the bushes and a recognisable grunt.
Her pulse starts to race. She can count on one hand how many people actually know her secret spot, but Hootle’s reaction is indication enough of who it probably is. Pushing up on her elbows, she turns just in time to see a dark-haired man appearing between the shrubs. There are bruises on his burly arms, streaks of mud on his pants and two large claw marks on his cheek and forehead, but he grins widely when he sees her.
“Thought I’d find you here,” he says triumphantly.
“Law! What happened to you?” she asks, sitting up as he drops down beside her. She reaches out to his face and he lets her gingerly touch his jaw. It doesn’t look too serious.
“Just a scratch. Had a run in with some wolves on the way here. Nothing I couldn’t handle but it's annoying when they all gang up on you.”
Something about the way he speaks makes her narrow her eyes shrewdly and lightly smack his shoulder. “... You went after them first, didn’t you?” she says accusingly.
“Hey! I’m the victim here.” He watches Hootle carefully, as if ready for any sudden aggression from her pet. The owl stares back silently. Their relationship has always been... fickle, for the better word, despite his natural affinity with most of the ranch animals. He and Hootle mostly just tolerate one another, even after so many years.
She digs into her satchel, taking out an apple gel and a clean strip of cloth with a bottle of disinfectant that are part of her first aid kit. He chews on the gel happily—he always did like the apple flavour best—and holds still while she cleans the wounds on his face. Law has never been one to shy away from the injuries that come with the direct, head-on frontal assaults he always favours, but it’s also obvious that he likes her close by and taking care of him. She has to wonder if he intentionally got himself hurt just so he could be fussed over by her.
“I wish I could use healing artes like Shionne,” she murmurs. It’s not the first time she has expressed envy at such abilities.
“Hmm, I don’t know... I kinda prefer having a cute girl touching me like this—ow! What was that for? I said you were cute!”
She rolls her eyes but giggles when he playfully pulls the front of her hood down over her face. She retaliates by squeezing one of the bruises on his arms and the sound he makes is a satisfying combination of a yelp and a laugh. He bats her hand away, almost making her spill the disinfectant, and even with the marks on his face and his dishevelled hair, his smile still makes him look rather dashing under the glowing lights. She feels something lift off her chest, a weight she hadn’t realised was there.
A comfortable silence hangs between them as she finishes tending to him. After she has tucked the items away in her bag, he reaches out to lay his hand gently on hers. “... You okay? You only come here when something’s wrong.”
Law can be surprisingly perceptive at times. She bites her lip, not quite sure how to articulate her thoughts and emotions at this very moment. They’ve grown a lot closer over the years, slowly figuring each other out, moving in and out of sync from time to time, but there are still things about herself that she hasn’t shared with him yet. Silence and secrecy are hard habits to break, more so when they had been drilled into her at an early age and then sustained further during Cyslodia’s reign of paranoia under Ganabelt.
“I... I think I’m just a little homesick,” she finally says. It’s the best word she can think of to describe the unsettling feeling within her.
“Is it because of the lights?” He gestures upwards and she nods. She had asked him once if he could sense the energy when the Phantom Flower bloomed, wondering if perhaps he had become more attuned to it after his experience at The Wedge, but other than that single encounter many years ago, nothing had changed within him.
“Hey, if you wanna be alone...” he trails off in an understanding tone. She appreciates that he knows she needs her own space sometimes, but despite what other people may think, she does also enjoy spending time with him, so she just shakes her head and tugs him down next to her.
“Let’s watch it together.”
They lie there silently, gazing up at the glimmering sky. Her hand is still in his and she finds comfort in the tender way his thumb grazes over her knuckles. Hootle preens his feathers with a soft chirp, his demeanour matching her quiet state of mind. The aqua and pink colours dancing in the sky are soothing, and she thinks she can hear the musical tinkling and hum behind this invisible power, a rhythmic resonance pulsing in time with her heart.
Her grandfather had told her once about the music of magic. She had been too young to understand what he meant but she remembers sitting on his knee at five years old, watching while he played on a small wooden item. A Light Flute, he had called it, because it could make the same sound as the astral energy around them.
We Dahnans aren’t supposed to have musical instruments... but this will be our little secret, alright?
She thinks she knows now what he had been talking about. The tune she hears reminds her of that day.
“... Rinwell?”
She opens her eyes. Strange. She doesn’t remember closing them at all. She blinks and sees Law’s face looking down at her, his burgundy hair and emerald eyes matching the backdrop of the sky. He gives a lopsided smile and it brings a flutter to her chest. “I thought you fell asleep,” he says, brushing her fringe away.
She... misses home, but something about the way he is looking at her makes her feel as safe and warm as huddling under thick pelts with her family on a cold, frosty evening.
Reaching out to touch the strand of hair hanging by his jaw, her eyes drop to his mouth. She sits up on her elbows and raises her head slightly, and he closes the distance. They have kissed before but this time feels different, as if all that astral energy in the air is flowing through her and making her blood run hotter. He tastes of apple gel and smells of disinfectant.
Law strokes her cheek and pushes her back onto the grass. Her hood slips off from the movement and she finds her palms pressed against his chest. She can feel the heat radiating off him. He kisses her like she is the last person on Dahna and she doesn’t remember how he had manoeuvred his body to be over her, how her legs had parted to make way for him.
The cadenced hum resonates louder in her head and she swears she can hear and feel his heart beating in sync with hers. There it is, under her right hand, just below his broad chest, and... oh, is this how the skin on his stomach feels? It’s taut and firm, and the ridges under her fingertips make her want to explore more.
His mouth slips away from hers with a groan, grazing down her jaw and by her ear and along the curve of her neck, and the pleasurable contact makes her gasp. She's never been kissed there before. His hands are sliding down her body, pausing on her breasts and rubbing in a way that both tantalises and overwhelms her. Oh ... that’s quite nice...
She feels like she’s burning up, like she’s holding onto a charged Thunder Blade spell for far too long and quickly losing control. It’s both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
“Law...” she pants, her head spinning. “I want—”
-o-o-o-
“Hrrrrrrrrrr!”
“Ow! What the...!” he cries out and covers his head as Hootle proceeds to flit around angrily and peck at his hair, giving irate screeches here and there.
“Wha...? Hootle! No, stop, it’s okay!” Rinwell waves wildly at the owl, trying to calm him down. The bird immediately ceases flapping about and grows quiet again as he lands by her side, wide eyes still glaring daggers at Law and wings spread outwards, as if trying to make himself appear larger than he really is.
“Gahh... what’d I do?” Law says forlornly, rubbing the back of his neck in confusion. Talk about killing the mood. Is that a sore patch of skin under his hair?
“Sorry... He might have thought you were hurting me,” she says in an apologetic tone, resting a hand on the owl.
“That was the opposite of hurting, you ol’ fluffball!” he chides the bird. At least... it had felt like it was.
She tells him to turn around so she can inspect the back of his head for the damage done. Her face is flushed and her hair is a bit messed up. He notices that her coat is undone and two buttons on her top underneath hang free, baring the inviting skin under her collarbone, where her pendant gleams in the evening. Damn... he doesn't recall being so daring with his hands.
He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, remembering how soft she had felt under his fingers, how warm her hand had been when it had slipped under his tunic and trailed up his chest, leaving invisible prints on his tingling skin. He remembers the way she had sighed his name as he kissed down her neck, that single breath stoking the wildfire inside him. They have never gone that far before. It’s the first time he’s heard such a vulnerable sound from her, and he wants to hear more of it. He shifts a little, trying to ignore the slight strain in his pants.
“Sorry,” she says again, a bit sheepish. “I think... Hootle’s just good at sensing when I’m scared.”
“... Oh.” It takes a few seconds for the words to really sink in, then he feels his face start to burn with shame and dismay. The last thing he wants is to spook her. Patvo and the other guys in the resistance used to say salacious things about girls and women here and there—what they liked done on them, what they hated, what they could tolerate... Still, none of them were ever good role models for what normal couples do. Had he gone too far this time?
He has to at least get a straight answer out of her. “Um... d-did you, uh... did you... not like what we were doing?”
Rinwell blushes a deeper red, her hands moving to cradle her cheeks. It’s an adorable habit of hers when she’s embarrassed and she can’t quite meet his eyes.
“... I liked it,” she finally whispers shyly, like she is telling him a precious secret, and he can’t help the goofy, relieved smile plastered on his face. Her reaction makes him want to kiss her again. He wonders what would have happened if Hootle hadn’t interrupted them.
“I was scared but... in a good way,” she clarifies.
“... Like that time Dohalim pushed us off that waterfall?”
She laughs heartily and just like that, any tension left between them melts away. “No, that was terrifying! I thought we were going to break our necks on some rocks! I still don’t believe that he knew it was safe.”
“He did sound pretty convincing...”
The light hearted moment is all he needs to fall back into the same wavelength as her. Funny how Dohalim can be useful in the most unexpected of times. Even Hootle is bobbing slightly in a more mellow mood than before, giving a soft chirp or two as if in agreement. The owl seems to have completely forgotten his outburst minutes ago.
Law watches as Rinwell strokes her pet. The Phantom Flower is still in bloom and her ebony hair shines under the shimmering sky. When her gaze rises to his, it feels like someone knocking the breath out of him with an invisible punch to his gut. She’s beautiful under the glowing lights, but there is a trace of sadness in her honey brown eyes and he doesn’t know why he hadn’t noticed it before. He is suddenly reminded of the reason she came here in the first place.
Reaching out to caress her face, he feels a warm rush of affection spreading through him when she leans longingly into his touch. Her reaction fills him with a different kind of strength, something he could never hope to gain from all that training and heavy lifting. He wants to kiss her and hold her, touch her and please her. He wants to protect her and take care of her, to be her new home, her new family.
Law wonders if this is what his father had felt for his mother. He wonders if Rinwell feels the same way about him.
“C’mere,” he says huskily, pulling her into a hug. She fits nicely in his arms and he can feel her reaching around to hug him back. His bruises smart but it’s pain that he is more than willing to endure to give her this.
When she lets out a loud sigh, her body sagging against his as if expelling all worry within her, he wants to kick himself for not doing this sooner. He knows that she gets lonely sometimes, even when surrounded by friends like Bregon and other former Silver Swords. He knows that she still doesn’t feel like she fits in, and that she still keeps her feelings bottled up at times. Despite her normally cheery disposition, she still carries scars from what Almeidrea did years ago. She doesn’t like to speak about what happened but the thought of her as a young, grief-stricken child scrambling among the bodies of her slaughtered family makes his heart ache.
“Next time, come talk to me, okay? I... I don’t want you to be alone when you’re feeling like this,” he murmurs into her ear. “I’ll help you. We’ll help each other.”
She’s quiet in his embrace, her breathing calm and measured. Then she pulls away to look him in the eyes and leans in to kiss him. It’s a sweet, delicate kiss this time, like a silent promise between them. He doesn’t need anything more than this for now.
“Thanks, Law,” she says, her hand moving to his and intertwining their fingers. “I’ll... I’ll try to be more honest with my feelings.”
They settle back on the grass, her head tucked comfortably on his shoulder. The night sky is as pretty as the first time they had seen it all those years ago. He wraps an arm firmly around her, relishing the feel of her against him, and then he notices Hootle staring at him from the side. He stares back unabashed, almost like a challenge, and subconsciously tightens his hold on Rinwell.
... Wait, is it just him or are the owl’s eyes narrowing? His train of thought is interrupted by a sudden explosion of feathers in his face.
“Gahhh, again?!”
“Hootle, no!”
-o-o-o-
When you’re on your own, I’ll send you a sign
Just so you know
I am me, the universe and you