Work Text:
From faults, favors, failures, and the truth,
From faults, favors, failures, and the truth,
That love alone, love alone isn’t enough
-To Douse A Scalded Tounge, Peregrine/Perrine, Yaelokre (Keath Ósk)
A little before sunset. Next to the creek . That day she’d been in charge of looking after the newspawns they’d taken in , five of them this year . They weren’t clueless, (thank SFOTH for that) they’d had enough sense to go to bed in the tent by themselves. All scythe had to do was do a quick headcount and she was done with.
It was safest for them to go to sleep even before the sun set so they could wake up early, and so they wouldn’t go missing as easily as they would in the dark.
The sun was low , a red disk dangling just above the horizon . It was the most comfortable time of day in the desert, when the bone deep chill of the night hadn’t set in and the sweltering heat of day was melting away. The skies blazed orange , rays of warm light filtering through the sparse clouds.
It was peaceful like this. Today had been busy , with all the supply drop offs that needed to be coordinated and the chores of setting up to travel again , and finally getting to rest . Scythe allowed herself to lie there for a little, gazing at the sky before she stood up again.
Maybe she could go see Grappling Hook before their shift was over. They were on bird duty today, so by now they’d probably be packing up the boxes of food in the warehouses next to the ozriphage’s enclosure. If Scythe hurried, she could meet them there.
Scythe took off her poncho, laying it down on a nearby supply box . The sands were tame today, and so were the skies, unexacting , almost completely unchanged from morning . She couldn’t smell a whiff of damp or fresh wind. Good conditions , lacking in potential for sandstorms .
*
Sunset itself. Scythe had made her way down to the pen as the sun brushed the horizon . She waited for a while on the benches next to the food bins. She turned her head right as she caught the sound of the thudding of footsteps from just a little bit behind her.
Grappling hook took off their poncho . Scythe squinted at them through the settling light.
“Do ya think we’ve got enough time to go fer’ a last ride?”
*
Civil twilight. It was cold outside , but it didn’t matter. Both of them were dressed well for the weather, which , this evening, seems just a little bit more harsh. At the very least , the stars are out in their full glory. The sky , even at this time , is already clouded with them. From her steed’s back, Scythe looks almost as if she could graze them by just raising a hand .
Over the eastern horizon , night encroaches like black ink spreading in blue water .
Grappling hook gripped the reins of their own ozriphage, gazing up at Scythe soaring above them.
She truly looked beautiful like this, fearless and unreserved.
It makes some part of their heart beat oddly even as the splendour of the Milky Trail spills over the edges of the sky like the tail of a firebird.
*
They soar above the dunes for what feels like half an eternity, revelling in the silence and stillness, gazing at their love’s beautiful figure through the half light, smiling when she occasionally looks back to see whether they are following her .
That was their promise; they’d follow her no matter what.
They trace the ring they wore on their horns with one finger. Their engagement ring. Traditional, as Scythe had insisted on it being. Engraved with all sorts of promises of faith, of undying loyalty and affection towards each other .
*
How lucky they were back then.