Work Text:
“Before you go,” Ophelia says, her fingers feather-light on Soleil’s wrist, “Hold on just a moment.”
“Okay,” part acquiescence, part question, part wishing she hadn’t nearly jumped out of her skin at such a simple touch. She doesn’t mean it like that, Soleil knows.
“I keep meaning to enchant your armor, and yet you keep flitting away like the shortest days of winter before my blessings can ever catch up with you.”
“Do you need me to take it off to enchant it? ‘Cause I’ll get an earful from Siegbert if I’m late.” This is what Soleil says. What she doesn’t say is that she would cheerfully strip naked and later pay the price of listening to Siegbert attempt to lecture her about punctuality for hours, if it meant Ophelia would work her magic right here with just the two of them. She has only the vaguest understanding as to how magic even works, but she trusts that whatever it is Ophelia wants to do will be done right. Ophelia’s gaze drops down Soleil’s figure, then back up.
“It’s not strictly necessary–unless, of course, you’d prefer the blessing of skin upon skin?” Ophelia punctuates the statement with a saucy wink, and Soleil feels heat jump straight from her heart into her cheeks. She doesn’t mean it like that, Soleil is fairly certain. She laughs to punctuate the tension that only she is feeling, to take up the space in between words until she stumbles upon the right thing to say.
“I’m all yours,” she concedes, and she means it very much like that.
“Excellent! Now, take hold of my hands, close your eyes, and focus hard until you can feel yourself fortified like the very core of a star–no peeking, mind you.” Ophelia’s instructions come in an enthusiastic rush, her fingers already laced with Soleil’s before she’s even done speaking. Soleil squeezes her eyes shut tight, regretting the fabric of her gloves between her hand and Ophelia’s. She has such nice little fingers, and Soleil would let her do such wicked things with them. Soleil exhales a bit too hard at the thought, not thinking about fortified stars at all.
“Are you focusing?” comes Ophelia’s lilting voice from somewhere in front of her. She sounds more amused than stern.
“Yes, ma'am,” Soleil says, all mock seriousness. She straightens her back and squares her shoulders, just to make her point. Ophelia giggles merrily, giving Soleil’s hands a final squeeze.
“Well, then, if the stardust has settled, you may open your eyes.” Soleil complies, blinking once or twice to readjust to the midday light that filters through the tent’s canvas. In it, Ophelia is radiant.
“Am I all protected now?” she asks, wondering if she’s meant to feel different, or if she’s just a complete clod when it comes to magic (when it comes to Ophelia). Ophelia purses her lips, like she’s debating something with herself.
“Actually, there’s one more step, should you be willing to indulge me in a bit of magical experimentation.”
“You know I’d be willing to indulge you in pretty much anything,” Soleil teases with a wink of her own. To her surprise, Ophelia looks away for just a moment, a hint of embarrassment playing at her features.
“Lean down, then,” she says. Soleil opens her mouth to respond, and promptly forgets how to speak at all when Ophelia presses a soft kiss to her cheek. She stands there, absolutely gobsmacked, hyper-aware of Ophelia’s slightly-parted lips pressed right against her skin. It lasts for maybe a few seconds before Ophelia pulls away, her face awash in a blush that borders on luminous. She still holds onto Soleil’s hands. “For luck,” murmurs Ophelia. She means it like that, Soleil begins to think.