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With a sombre sigh, the bard's aching head falls back onto the cushioned flooring below them. Their reddened eyes sear, even when they repetitively blink; fatigue is burdensome and woefully weighty when it regards them. For once, the nest is silent, bitterly cold and lacking any semblance of soothing warmth.
Downy feathers, varying between wispy silver, pale white and inky black, do near nothing to avail them.
Raine itches to have the familiar fervor back, that of their wife's calloused, bony hands gingerly entwining lengthy fingers with their own chubbier ones, smoothly stroking their knuckles, or her carefully cupping their jawline with either clawed hand all while incorporating either thumb into a miniature face massage that she knows never fails to sooth them. Recollections of snuggling closely, legs knotted together, flash across their memory—lipstick stained lips curling mischievously into a snarky grin, pressing fiercely against their own, lukewarm breath puffing onto their face.
Their body quivers lightly at the though, trained fingers (from years worth of strenuous bard related work) landing on their abdomen. King is elsewhere, the eleven-year-old gleefully accompanying Luz on an abrupt trip to the Human Realm for the weekend. Eda's off managing errands in relation to Palisman carving, bidding them a pleasant day with a messy kiss on the cheek before wandering off to complete her work-based activities.
In all honesty, Raine is entirely uncertain as to how they had endured over a decade lacking the sheer jovial warmth that Eda's presence brings—they can already feel the withdrawals of daily interaction swarm them. A series of affectionate Hext messages sent to them hour beforehand are invaluable to them, as are the others, but do not make up for the absence of closeness they so crave; really, they consider themself spoiled.
Eda, despite her rough, rowdy persona, is more pudgy, soft, alongside mushy than most thought possible save for her family. She's the most overly affectionate witch they've ever met: constantly pulling them into warm-hearted hugs, pressing delicate kisses to their hairline, forehead, jaw, lips, every part visible to her, securely clinging onto them like a "koala" (as Luz had described the human realm animals), amongst other things. Raine eats it all up, every last scrap of affection, and in turn will gladly return it at any point in time.
Now, they just dearly miss their wife. Even her corny dad jokes they try their hardest not to cringe at would be more pleasant than Eda's lack of being around them. Still, The Owl Lady is known to be be her own witch, so they'll respect that also.
But that doesn't distract them from the simple fact that they still greatly miss her. You see, sometimes you have a horrendous day, the very worst of the worst, and you just want to dash directly home, eat a quick dinner, and cuddle close to your beloved wife for the remainder of the night.
More often than not, Raine has the privilege of doing that. This moment is a startling exception.
Sleep tugs tactfully at their psyche, consciousness a foreign concept, something less than appealing with the bubbling brew of exhaustion and fatigue they've metaphorically downed. Perhaps when they wake once more from peaceful slumber the texture of silky silver hair will brush against their fingertips, pleasantly inviting.
"Oops, sorry," a voice rudely interrupts their waning thought process; Eda's voice, "didn't mean to wake ya'."
Raine groans in response, though allows for a singular drooping eyelid to pry itself open. Sleep be damned, they reach forth, limbs accustoming to the sudden movement by moving about limply, flopping as they just barely brush their wife's shoulder. They sigh gratefully when she deftly drags her nails through their hair, only small streaks of its original teal remaining amongst a sea of icy white.
"Didn't hear you coming in," Raine mumbles, tongue lazy as they slur their words. Eda chortles.
"I guessed," she states, shifting onto her knees while adjusting the comfy blanket that's spread out atop them. Their head shuffles slightly on its position, the pillow below them shifting along with their languid movements. "It's pretty late."
"How was work?" they yawn when she shimmies beside them, slipping into the softness of the snug covers. She tilts on her back to face them slightly, bare arms tugging them into her side as they (without relenting) shift to climb on top of her. Their glasses had been disposed of, plopped neatly on their desk hours before, so they freely press their cheek to her chest. Both arms sloppily coil around their untensed back, hands lightly rubbing smooth circles into it, through the fabric of Eda's sweater that they're borrowing.
"Decent. Some douche tried to scam me, but you can't scam the biggest scammer on the Isles." She pulls them closer.
"Mhm," the bard manages. They press their face farther into her clothed chest, ears twitching slightly as they hear her harmonious heartbeat match the rise and fall of her chest; her bile sack was removed years ago when it was formally declared ruptured.
"Enough about me," she says. "How was your day?"
"It was good, for paperwork," they respond softly, tangling their legs with her own feather-ridden ones, relaxing further upon the gentle brush of wispy feathers against their skin. "Missed you."
"What?" Eda snickers, teasing. "You in love with me or somethin', Whispers?"
Her curtly asked question has some genuineness in it that easily seeps through and into their busy mind—as such, they muster up a plausible enough response that will guarantee the desired reaction. Preferably, Eda will be fast to fluster as per usual, though she also has her own personalized set of witty comebacks.
"More than any written words can describe, yes. I hope that answers your question, Miss Owl Lady," they retort, half-crooning, smirk gentle but no less vindictive and playful. "To put it simply, I love you a lot, Eda."
"Ugh," she mutters, slipping closer to them as her face reddens, "you're such a sap."
"If I'm a sap," they mumble, hearing Eda's muffled chuckles, "then you're a dingus."
Eda hums. "Your dingus."
"I'm your sap," Raine says, sighing, "and you're my dingus, then."
"Yup." Raine feels Eda press a thoughtful kiss onto their forehead. "Love you too"
Raine smirks smittenly before saying, "I know."
Eda scoffs as their own arms loop idly around her neck. They trill into the softness of her chest, voice comforting as their incorporate the slightest bit of bard magic to allow for sleep to overtake her more easily. The two have discussed it before, Eda consenting to the usage of said magic whenever Raine sees fit, especially when she's overworking herself.
"Rainestorm?" her voice is uncharacteristically timid.
Raine's humming falters. "Is something the matter, sweetheart?"
"Nah, I just wanna say something to you. You know, If its cool with you." Eda's eyes remain sealed, though her expression is telling. Her golden fang is left someplace else, they assume the bedside table, left within close proximity to their own glasses and earring, leaving her expression all the more visible.
"Of course." Raine nods. "I'm all ears."
"I know I say this tons already," she mumbles, "but, thanks for being in my little ol' life. Hah."
"No need to thank me," Raine says. "It's my pleasure to be here with you. If anything, I should be thanking you for being in mine."
"Pfft," she scoffs, seemingly stumped on what to continue their conversation with. Watching her flounder so feebly has always been an incredibly guilt pleasure of theirs, as is watching her already present blush darken.
"I love you," they reiterate, smile growing slightly.
Eda groans. "Stop."
"No, actually. I don't think I will," Raine snickers, though continues on speaking. "You're so incredibly precious to me, I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."
"Titan," Eda mumbles, grip tightening slightly around them, much to the bard's joy.
"What?" Eda playfully rolls her eyes at them as they continue their string of curt, cheesy responses. "You get to be cheesy and I don't?"
"It's not that. It's just that I swear you're tryin' to get me all blushy and gross," the witch grumbles.
"Ah, guilty as charged," they say in a humourous manor.
"Knew it!" she blows a fierce raspberry onto their cheek for a split second before halting, returning to her precious position, to which Raine cackles lightly.
Once Eda's done, she mutters something to them, "And for the record, I love you more, nerd."
They raise a singular grey eyebrow, as though taking this to be a challenge. "No," they chuckle, playing forth into this common game of theirs, "I love you more."
"Nah, I love you more," Eda claims.
"Nope," Raine counters in response, yawning, "I do."
"As if," Eda mutters, "I love you more."
"We'll be here all night if you don't surrender, Eda," they note, though are not annoyed at the concept.
"Then so be it," she declares stubbornly. "Mama didn't raise no quitter."
"Don't you literally have a personalized badge for when you want to quit things?" checkmate.
"That's irrelevant right now," Eda says. "What was that one phrase? 'Outta sight, outta mind', right?"
"Maybe?"
"Well, it's that," she proclaims. "It's outta sight, so it's outta our minds."
"Sure," they answer, "I'll let you have this."
"Ha!" Her voice is growing more faint, weariness evident in her tone of voice. "So you do admit defeat."
"Not to the fact that I love you more," they explain. "Only to your quitter badge thing."
"Sure, let's say that."
A pregnant pause washes over the two, surprisingly pleasant. Just as Raine accustoms to the lack of their wife's voice in the air, their ears twitch at the sound of her speaking up once again.
"Can I say one more thing?" she asks
"Of course," they confirm. "I don't see why not. You don't have to ask, calamity."
Satisfaction washes over them once more at the sight of her chuffing softly for just a split second at the usage of the nickname.
"You can't judge me if this is cheesy though."
They simper slightly. "I think it's cute when you say cheesy things."
"Back at ya, hon," she says in response. "But this might just win me this little competition."
"Seriously?" they giggle faintly, from a mesh of sleep deprivation slewed together with pure, unbridled adoration for their wife—more the latter out of the two.
"As I said, I'm no quitter."
"The badge?"
"In terms of these sorts of competitions," Eda adds. "Others are an exception."
"Okay then." Raine's eyelids are barely keeping open at this point, though their try for their wife . "I'm listening, Miss Owl Lady."
"I'd give the world to you on a silver platter," Eda says softly, "if you asked me to; If you wanted me to."
Raine halts in that moment, gaze broad albeit undeniably adoring. Something warms pleasantly in their chest, indescribable though no less saccharine sweet.
Dauntlessly, they respond, words uttered tenderly within the calm of the moment. "I would do the same for you."
"Ack, that was even cheesier than I thought it would sound." She hardly pokes out the tip of tongue at then, retracting it a second or so after. The bloody blush that originates from her cheeks has traversed to either one of her pointy ears.
"I thought it was adorable." One skilled hand twitched upward, fingers attentively scratching the area behind one ear; she adores it when they do so, the deep rumbling reverberating from her chest as Raine peers further up at her a clear indicator. "If you don't mind me asking, what brought this on? I mean, I don't mind it at all, but I'm curious."
Feelings and communication are both themes that severely strained their relationship for decades, and they're pleased to know that nowadays communication and talk of emotions, more and such are not kept secret between one another. Raine trusts Eda with their heart and entire being, and vice versa.
"Did something happen?" they try.
"No. I guess I just felt like saying it," Eda huffs. "I'm not too good with all the feeling junk, but I just really love you. I don't know. Ugh, this sounds so stupid."
"Hey, hey. It's not stupid," Raine reassures her, continuing their ministrations with both hands now, either occupied in sloppily combing the thick mass of grey that is her hair. "Thanks for telling me."
"Thanks for listening to me," Eda thanks.
"Thank you, too." Her purrs heighten in pitch ever so slightly.
"So," Eda begins, "do I win?"
"You really are insatiable, huh?" they quip light-heartedly.
"You know me well enough to know that."
Eda's purring ceases as they retract both hands, a displeased whine ringing out. Instead, they shift around once more in order to carefully entwine their digits with her own, palm pleasantly hot against their own.
"I do."
"You do," she repeats, eyes fluttering shut.
"How about we call it a draw?" they suggest, feeling their own eyes clamp shut at last. They want to at least wish their dear wife a good night before dozing off, for neither of the two have much of anything to do tomorrow, with the exception of hanging about one another and that is the very least they can do.
"S'cool," she says drowsily, squeezing their hand lightly. "It's a tie then."
The two do not have the energy reserves to rid the room of the few light glyphs scattered about in the inky darkness, illuminating their surroundings; likely triggering when Eda had a wandered in without Raine noticing.
So, instead, they bask in the firefly-esque glimmering noise each one produces in the utter quiet of the room.
"Goodnight, calamity" they manage. "I love you."
"Night, Rainestorm. Love you."