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“Kokomi.”
A hand gently tucks a few of her loose strands behind her ear, fingers calloused by the familiarity of a sword. It is this sensation that she latches onto first, the delicate warmth that inadvertently brushes against her cheek and the tenderness in the gesture. The sun is mild against her back, where another hand rests in an attempt to rouse her from her half-slumber.
“Kokomi,” the voice tries again, still hushed but more insistent. “Wake up.”
“Maybe we should just leave her alone,” another voice suggests, not quite as quiet. A sound, not unlike the tinkling of wind chimes, accompanies its movement. “She looks like she needs the rest.”
A light exhale tickles the shell of her ear, followed by the creaking floorboards as the presence beside her rises. The hands fall away, prompting from her a murmur of discontent. “Hand me the blanket over there, will you, Paimon?”
There is a moment where she sinks back to sleep, surrounded by softness akin to the tides that lap the shoreline. The desk is hardly comfortable and her limbs will surely protest, but it is worth the lips pressed to her temple, the careful touches as her head is angled to be kinder on her arms. Preening drowsily under the attention, Kokomi cracks an eye open when a rush of cold air seeps through her quilt cocoon, only to be greeted with the sight of Lumine withdrawing.
Her fingers skitter across the wood to tangle clumsily in fabric, tugging helplessly.
“Don’t go,” she murmurs, words slurred with sleep. “Stay.”
An amused huff escapes Lumine as she motions for Paimon to leave first, which the latter happily obliges with the promise of food and their later company. Kneeling once more, the Traveler cups Kokomi’s face between her palms and squeezes. In protest, the maiden puffs her cheeks, and Lumine chuckles as she leans in to kiss her scrunched nose, endeared.
“You need to eat,” she says, smoothing Kokomi’s bangs from her eyes. “Gorou’s been worried about you being shut away for the last few days.”
“Not hungry,” Kokomi mumbles petulantly. She attempts to wriggle her way into Lumine’s arms, sighing in contentment when she is able to bury her face into the other’s neck. “Just tired.”
Lumine hums understandingly and rubs soothing circles between her shoulders. “I’ll bring you something then,” she compromises, “and you can eat when you’re up for it.”
Kokomi nearly keens when Lumine moves, surging forward and inadvertently ensnaring the two of them in the blanket. Lumine is grateful for the rug that cushions her from the hard aragonite floor, disoriented from both the impact and the scent of summer that suddenly overwhelms her senses.
“What’s gotten into you today?” she asks, laughter lacing her words. While it was not uncommon for the priestess to show affection, she was being unusually tactile. “This doesn’t exempt you from lunch, just so you know.”
Without responding, the other girl merely curls closer to her, hair splayed in waves of sunlight and pale strawberry. It is not until Lumine begins to card her fingers through, sobered by the silence, that Kokomi speaks.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, so achingly simple and sincere that Lumine’s heart clenches.
“You have me now,” Lumine whispers into the bright, blue afternoon. Her hold tightens as she adjusts the quilt around them. “Was there something on your mind?”
Kokomi makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “Not particularly. It just feels like there’s always something new to address, no matter how much has already been done. You’ve seen the rebuilding efforts and the planning we have to finalize for those displaced. Not to mention we’re still in the middle of negotiations with the Tenryou Commission regarding fishing zones, and there are preparations that need to be completed for the upcoming—“
Lumine halts her rambling with a soft brush of lips. “At ease, Your Excellency,” she murmurs teasingly, before her tone switches to one of concern. “The logistics can wait, but your health shouldn’t. When was the last time you took proper care of yourself?”
“I—I’m not sure, truth be told.”
“Well, we can reconvene with Paimon to get some food and head to the beach afterwards for a nice break.”
“Mm, that sounds lovely. I’m still so tired, though… What if I fall asleep?”
“I’ll carry you, then. Or you can try to nap now.”
“That’s what I was doing before I was so rudely awakened,” Kokomi sniffs dramatically, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket.
“Alright, alright,” Lumine laughs, propping herself up onto her elbows. “I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll leave you to—“
“No! You’re wanted. You’re very much wanted,” Kokomi splutters, her hands firm on the Traveler’s shoulders.
Lumine wiggles her eyebrows. “By the Head Priestess herself? I must have quite the bounty on my head.”
“You’re insufferable,” Kokomi grumbles, nuzzling her heated cheeks against Lumine’s. She relishes in the clearness of the other girl’s giggles, the reciprocated press of skin. A peaceful quiet settles over them as they lay intertwined.
“I’ll wake you,” Lumine says affectionately, touch tender, and Kokomi allows herself to be lulled by the gentle heartbeat beneath her ear.
And though it is but one of many stolen moments, Kokomi holds the memory close when the time comes for Lumine to depart Watatsumi yet again. The Traveler kisses her with a steadfastness reminiscent of the ocean, ever-present and never-ending. Lumine is the only thing she will drown in, she thinks, as the waters wash over her.