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The sun is setting on the Azim Steppe, and another Naadam is over. Cirina Mol picks her way across a gently rising slope, past the detritus of the day. It’s everywhere on the ground around her: broken weapons, ruined clothing, pools of mud and sometimes blood.
All around the edge of the battlefield are tall campfires, surrounded by throngs of Xaela warriors who are toasting their victories and nursing wounds and grudges. It is, like the night after every Naadam, a celebration for the ages. She can hear the revelry even from here.
She doesn’t feel any particular desire to join the crowds, though. Cirina Mol does not possess the boisterous spirit expected among tribes like the Dotharl and Oronir. She prefers having some quiet space to contemplate the day’s events.
It was a good Naadam – even she can admit that. Tense and hard-fought. The Mol had no illusions about retaining their title, and Magnai of the Oronir eventually claimed victory once again, but the other tribes made him work hard for it. They showed enough strength to command a great deal of respect for the coming year. Magnai will not rule lightly.
In the fading light, Cirina sees something disturbing: a still body lying spreadeagled atop a grassy mound. The figure is wearing the blue feathered garb of the Dotharl, and seems to be unmoving. Worse, she looks awfully familiar. Cirina’s heart skips a beat, and she fears the worst. But as she hurries closer, some of her concerns are alleviated. She hears chuckling, and sees the woman’s chest rising and falling as she breathes.
It’s Cirina’s friend Sadu. Her body is bruised all over, and there are long scratches all the way down her arms. She seems exhausted. Still she keeps laughing and rolling her eyes.
“What a battle! What a day!” Sadu shakes her head a little as she stares up at the golden sky. “Not since I fought the Warrior of Light have I felt so alive.”
“Sadu! Are you all right?” Cirina drops to her knees and begins checking for broken bones.
Sadu gently bats her hands away. “I am fine. Better than fine! I burn with all the radiance of every star in the night sky.”
She doesn’t look like she’s burning, not from the outside. She looks utterly wiped out. But even beaten up and exhausted, Sadu is still beautiful to Cirina. Her eyes shine with the brightest of passions and her smile is like sweet moonlight.
“Did you see me today?” Sadu asks. “I was magnificent. Oh, the foes I conquered. And Little Sun Magnai! I taught him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”
Cirina furrows her brow. “But… you lost.”
“Barely!” Sadu laughs again. “By the merest sliver of a margin. Mark my words: Next year I will destroy that man.”
On one level, Cirina is happy for Sadu. Her friend lives for moments like these. Winning and losing just aren’t as important to her as the thrill of the fight. But it’s not hard to see how things could have gone much, much worse, and Cirina is troubled by the thought of what could have happened. By what, just a few moments ago, she thought really had happened.
“You did fight well, Sadu,” she says. “But I wish you’d be more careful.”
She takes one of Sadu’s hands in both of hers, and this time Sadu doesn’t wave her away.
“Ha!” Sadu says. “Speak not to me of caution! In the heat of battle do our souls–”
“–Burn brightest, yes, I know.”
“And even if I should die, what of it? I shall be reborn, and all shall be well.”
That’s so very like Sadu. Always living for the next battle, heedless of her own safety. For Cirina, it’s a little different. She tells Sadu, “I’d miss you, though.”
Sadu opens her mouth to deliver another diatribe regarding Dotharl beliefs, but Cirina cuts her off before she can get started. “I know, I know. There would be another Sadu before long. But you’d be a baby. It would be different. I would miss…”
She intended to say I would miss our friendship, but that last word catches in her throat. If she’s honest with herself, that’s not all she feels about Sadu.
“…I would miss so much about you,” she says, finally.
Sadu seems to take this seriously. She turns her head to make eye contact with Cirina again.
“In truth,” she says, “so would I.”
And she lifts herself up a little, brings Cirina's hand to her mouth, and kisses it.
Cirina’s eyes grow wide, and cold adrenaline fills her veins. Sadu kissed her! Well, Sadu kissed her hand. What does that mean?
It was probably just a friendly kiss, she supposes first. A kiss on the hand doesn’t mean much. But then she thinks of a set of Ishgardian romance novels that the Warrior of Light sent her as a present. In Ishgard, a kiss on the hand is just about the most romantically charged act imaginable. At least, so the books make it seem.
But Sadu hasn’t read any of those books… has she? Are all of her books definitely accounted for?
By all the elder gods, why did Sadu have to do something so damnably ambiguous!
Cirina sits frozen in place for what feels like an eternity. Sadu watches her, a slow smile spreading over her face once more.
“What is it, Cirina? You act like a frightened rabbit. Eyes all wide, trapped under the hunter’s gaze. Did something startle you?”
“N-no!” Cirina squeaks out. She knows she’s not fooling herself or Sadu, but it’s the only thing she can manage to say in the moment.
She pulls her gaze away from Sadu – pulls her hand away as well – and sits alongside her instead. Her eyes are pointing towards the sunset behind the mountains, but she’s not really looking. Her head is too full of panic.
Sadu makes an amused little “Hmph!” and sits up as well.
A quiet moment passes.
Cirina sneaks a glance at Sadu. Sadu notices, looks back, and Cirina’s eyes dart away again.
Cirina waits as long as she can bear. Glances over at Sadu again. And Sadu is still watching her, with a sly smile on her face.
Blushing, Cirina hangs her head down low. “Sorry…”
“Sorry for what, little rabbit? Sorry for looking? You’re allowed to look.” Sadu reaches out and very gently puts her hand on Cirina’s again. “You’re allowed to touch, too. If you wish.”
This is almost more than Cirina can process. Is Sadu flirting with her? She doesn’t know what to do, but she knows she doesn’t want to pull her hand away again. So she keeps it there, and notices how warm and smooth Sadu’s hand feels.
“On days like these,” Sadu says, “we feel most alive. Our souls sing, and we see most clearly who we are. Does that not make it a good day to share who we are with others?” She pauses for just a moment. “With those for whom we care the most?”
Somehow, this is more terrifying than any battle Cirina has ever fought. But, with some great effort of will, she answers. Her voice is high-pitched and barely louder than a whisper. “Yes. I suppose so.”
“So tell me, little rabbit,” Sadu says. “If I were killed in battle tomorrow, what precisely would you miss about me?”
Cirina’s cheeks are bright red. She stares at a tuft of grass as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the universe. “W-well, Sadu… I’d miss your boldness. The way you carry yourself with such confidence, the way you speak without fear.”
“Mm-hmm? What else?”
Cirina’s sure of it now: there’s a little lilt in Sadu’s voice. Cirina is being teased. She wants to curl up into the tiniest ball and hide her face from the world, but also… she finds she rather likes it.
After a moment, Cirina says: “I’d miss spending time with you like this. The two of us, in quiet places. Talking, and… and…”
She glances at Sadu’s hand, lying on top of her own. Sadu interlaces Cirina’s fingers with her own.
“And what, little rabbit?” she asks.
“…and things of that nature,” says Cirina.
Sadu shuffles a little closer and leans in. “And things of that nature. And tell me little rabbit, is there nothing else you’d miss?”
Cirina knows that if she doesn’t say it now, she never will. Still, it’s the most monumental task for her to open her mouth to say, “I’d miss your beauty.”
At least, that’s what she tries to say. It comes out as a sort of haphazard mumble. Cirina instantly feels mortally embarrassed. It’s the most ridiculous thing she could have said. Everything is ruined.
Sadu cocks her head. “What was that, Cirina? I did not quite hear you.”
“I said I’d miss your beauty!”
It’s only in the silence afterwards that Cirina realises she shouted it. But Sadu seems unfazed; she’s still smirking.
“Is that so?” Sadu shuffles a little closer still, and whatever Cirina was thinking about just before, she can’t remember it now, because suddenly Sadu’s shoulder is touching hers and it’s the most wonderful sensation she’s ever experienced in her whole life.
“I would miss your beauty too, Cirina,” Sadu murmurs into Cirina’s ear. “I would miss your sensitivity, your generosity. And though the Dotharl do not fear death, we see no reason to die with regrets. I would regret never kissing you, Cirina Mol.”
Cirina takes a deep, involuntary breath. Her eyes open wide. And before she can second-guess herself, she lifts her head, leans over and plants a swift, clumsy kiss right on Sadu’s lips.
As she draws back, two thoughts go to war with one another in her mind: I did it!, and I could have done that so much better!
And then together the two thoughts resolve into one: I want to do that again!
So she does. She kisses Sadu, and Sadu kisses her back. Sadu’s arms are around her and suddenly all the icy anxiety is gone, replaced with warmth and passion and relief. She presses herself into Sadu and her heart is on fire and Sadu pulls her down into the grass and it is the best Naadam ever.
When the sun rises the next morning, the two are still wrapped up in each other’s arms on the same grassy mound. Cirina is the first to wake, and she starts a little as she remembers where she is and who she’s with. The surprise passes in an instant, replaced with warmth and comfort. She wriggles a little closer, relishing the touch she held back from for so long, and resolves never to let go of Sadu Dotharl again.