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The dust has hardly settled on Mist’s boots before a great gust of wind blows it off, knocking her hair into her cheeks in the process. Holding one of the fasteners out of her face with her hand, she squints into the sky toward the source of her annoyance. As soon as she finds it, her face breaks into a smile, and she breaks into a run.
A short distance ahead, Jill lands her wyvern on the side of the path, whatever grass that wasn’t trampled by the soldiers’ march smacked flat under the wyvern’s wings. A practiced rider, Jill bobs gracefully in the saddle before swinging one of her muscular legs over the beast’s giant berth. Before her feet even touch the ground, Mis is there, barreling into her with open arms and an excited squeal. “Jill! Oh, Jill! I can’t believe it’s you!”
Laughing, Jill hugs her back, squeezing her so tight she lifts Mist to the tips of her toes. “You got taller!”
“This is the first time we’ve seen each other in over a year, and that’s what you say to me?”
Jill only barks out another laugh, releasing her python’s hold on Mist’s ribcage. Stepping back, her hands settle on Mist’s shoulders. Now that the two of them are next to each other, Mist realizes that Jill is right—she has gotten taller, tall enough that the two of them are almost the same height. “You’ve gotten prettier, too,” Jill says, smoothing over Mist’s false ire.
“Oh, Jill,” she swoons, cupping her face in her hands. “Just let me look at you.”
Since the last time she saw her, Jill’s hair has gotten a little longer, her fringe falling into her eyes. Her skin is a bit paler, too, what with her being stuck in Daein for so long, hiding from the sun. All that matters to Mist is that she’s here. Satisfied, she lets go of Jill’s face, blushing as she puts a respectable distance between them once more. “Do I pass muster?” Jill asks, raising her eyebrows.
“You need a haircut,” Mist answers honestly, though her smile softens the blow. To keep them from running through Jill’s hair, she threads her fingers together, shrugging as she leans nervously to the side. “But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Jill’s brows turn up at that, her smile falling into a serious frown. “You know I would never hurt you,” she says. Though it’s a statement, something in her eyes speaks a question.
“I know that better than you do, I think,” Mist answers. Like Jill must be doing, she thinks of their reunion. “Haven’t I always told you that you’re more than a Daein soldier?” In a way that belies how she grew up with a bunch of boys, she playfully shoves at Jill’s chest plate, just hard enough to knock her off any self-deprecating sequence of thought. “You told me yourself you weren’t gonna be your father’s perfect soldier. I’m only repeating what you said first!”
Despite Mist’s intended effect, Jill’s expression falls. “My father…” Yet before Mist can comfort her, she shakes her head, steeling herself. “No. You’re right. My father would be proud that I have chosen to follow my own path.”
“There’s the Jill I know and love,” Mist coos, bowing toward her in adoration.
Jill’s expression slacks just as quickly as it had hardened. “That word again…” she mutters, looking more than a little taken aback.
“What word?”
“Well…” She runs a hand through her magnificent ponytail and averts her gaze. “Love.”
“Love?”
“Love.” With how they seem to be parroting each other, Mist can’t help but giggle, glad when Jill smiles too. Yet her eyes still hold some pain when she asks, “Could you really love me, Mist? I’ve gotten so much wrong, and I’ve made so many mistakes…”
Reaching forward, Mist places her hand at Jill’s elbow, on the fabric in between the metal plates of her armor. “Yes. I love you.” With Jill finally in front of her after months spent apart, Mist feels like shouting it for all of Tellius to hear, but for Jill, she states it as a simple fact. She loves her, and no one needs to hear that more than the woman in front of her right now.
“Mist,” she gasps. Then she leaps forward, embracing her, or maybe Mist embraces her once more. Where their first touches were amazed and jubilant, their hug now is gentle and steady. Jill’s arms fit perfectly around Mist like they always do, perhaps even better now that they’ve both grown a little more, both known a little more of the world and how it can push two people apart just as easily as it can bring them together. “I… feel the same way,” Jill confesses, hiding her secret among the locks of Mist’s hair. It’s probably dirty and sweaty after the battle, but if Jill doesn’t care, Mist decides she doesn’t, either. Jill’s hair is windswept, though the skies did not swipe away the scent of cloves that always seems to cling to her skin.
Thinking of Jill riding aloft before her on the battlefield, axe in hand and desperation in her eyes, Mist presses herself even closer to her, wishing to be completely overwhelmed by her warmth. When she thinks of the lives lost today, how if she hadn’t run fast enough Jill’s would be one of them, she could cry. She’s not sure she could bear it if war stole another precious person from her side. Then she remembers Jill’s countrymen, people she undoubtedly cares about with that fiery heart of hers, people standing in their way, weapons brandished before them and the orders of a king at their backs… and she sighs, leaning a little more of her weight into Jill. No, she won’t cry here: this is a happy occasion. She’ll steel herself like Jill, and be strong for her sake.
She does love her, after all. What wouldn’t she do?