Work Text:
Romeo couldn’t say when she and Morrigan started handing each other flowers, only that they do. It is not as though it is difficult to find flowers in these parts, but it’s fun. Sweet. The kind of easy gesture that makes their mutual affection quietly obvious.
They arrive in a village which is having some kind of festival celebrating love and lovers. Morrigan is dismissive at first, but Romeo is delighted by the music and dancing, and drags her out to dance with her. It’s not so long before Morrigan begins to smile. It’s fun, the kind of joy they both sorely need after days of travel. They dance until they are too tired to continue, and then they collapse for a moment on the scattered chairs left around, before heading for the food. Plates are laid out on a long table, and they gratefully help themselves. It’s better than either of them has eaten in a long time.
The atmosphere is lovely. Romeo rarely feels comfortable, and she is still not truly relaxed, but she is at ease here nonetheless. A part of her will always be on guard, but she smiles at Morrigan and revels in the energy, and she is happy. The pleasure of the atmosphere is so great that Morrigan leans forward and kisses her, gentle and sweet, and for an instant Romeo knows true bliss.