Work Text:
Falin has never been clingy.
She yearns, always, for the freedom to stand on her own. Sometimes the freedom is simply to go where she pleases. Other times, it’s to be herself. Often, the size of her cage has lain somewhere in between.
Until it was cramped, for some time, into a mage’s harsh set of rules that permitted neither in the least.
It’s only recently, after that experience, that she’s learning to embrace it. To accept herself as she is, unattached and free to wander, like dandelion fluff or songbirds in the wind. What connections she keeps are those she selects, cultivates, and grows with care.
There is a loneliness in her freedom. Only recently has she learned to accept that, too.
But she finds companions anyway, as long as they’re willing to drift away from her when the time comes. Adventuring partners. Brothers. Old, beloved friends.
And new ones.
Rin is one of them. She smells like basil today, and some muskier plant that Falin can’t identify, even after changing into her plainer nightclothes. Her hair is still slightly damp against Falin’s feathers after rinsing the pollen from it. It’s late at night, and Falin has woken, slightly, to find Rin’s hand grasping her inner thigh.
Her limbs are tangled, reaching, crawling their way through Falin’s, winding around her shoulders, her ankles, or her waist. Falin has seen vines in the apothecary garden that seek their way ever upward, stretching tendril by tendril over stakes and trellises set by the apprentices. She has also seen them pluck the vines gently off, encouraging to grow this way or that way, and the vines accept their guidance.
In the waking world, Rin doesn’t appear clingy. And where it counts, she’s very good at letting go. But she clings - she clings, just long enough for you to know she doesn’t want you to. She clings when you allow it, she clings to grudges and feelings and memories, and she clings in her sleep, where there is no one to scold her.
Falin knows she can tug herself free of the vines Rin has grown across her body. But since she’s free to go whenever she wants, she finds it no burden to stay. She can stand on her own, and when she stands near Rin, she can allow Rin to lean against her, borrowing her strength. She never thought she could be that for someone else.
Falin exhales. Rin burrows into her chest, unaware. The cicadas in the summer night lull Falin back to sleep.