Notebook
Notebook
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Zephaya [Zephe/Zanaya]
Genre: idek
Word Count: 801
Summary: What do you keep writing in that notebook?
(Essentially writing out and getting to know characters from an idea for a video game I had).
Of all the weird quirks a person could have, Zephe had least expected Zanaya to keep a diary. It seemed too...childish for her, and didn't exactly make sense in context with the woman that he knew. And he knew that he should leave her alone to it, but curiosity was welling up inside, and really, it couldn't hurt to ask.
"Zanaya?" he asked, moving as quietly as he could over the dry leaves of their camp, trying not to startle her. He still had a bruise from the last time he'd sneaked up on her.
She made a noncommittal sound, lead scraping over the rough paper, and he decided to move in closer, kneeling behind her to rest his knees against the log she was sitting on. Placing his head on her shoulder and blowing a bit of her ridiculously long hair out of the way, he peered down at the words she was writing, a frown flitting over his lips. He didn't recognize the language.
"What do you keep writing in that notebook?" he finally asked, wrinkling his nose as she continued to fill the small pages with smudged writing that he couldn't understand.
"Nothing you need to worry about right now," she murmured, trying to shrug him off, and he couldn't help the small pang of hurt that ran through him. She was usually the one who was more hands-on, and to have her push him away wasn't something that was normal, or what he wanted after such a long day.
"Where did you even get that?" he continued, shifting so he could throw one leg over the rough wood, hands steadying him on the bark as he studied her profile in the flickering firelight. "I don't remember picking it up off of anyone, or getting it in town."
"You don't remember a lot of things babe," she teased, letting out a short, strained burst of laughter, poking his knee through his torn pants. "I found it earlier in town while you were stocking up on food."
"What did you get it for?" Because unless she was writing down recipes for making healing salves, or directions for their next mission, he really couldn't think of a reason for it.
"To write in," she answered cheekily, eyebrow lifting in a grin that her mouth didn't quite achieve.
He groaned, flopping back against the log, planting his boots in the dirt to keep himself from rolling off. "What are you writing in it?" he tried again, the words muffled by his arm thrown over his face. He just wanted to make conversation with her, was that really so bad?
He was expecting another sharp remark, not for her to smack his leg with the book and get up to move to the other side of the campfire, heaving out a sigh as she did. He brought his arm down and sat up, frowning as her bangs fell over her face, hiding her expression from view.
Several quiet minutes passed, the scribbling of her pencil and the crackling of the fire the only noises aside from their breathing that he could hear.
"Oh quit moping," he heard a moment later, a tug to his braid pulling his head back until he was looking up at her standing above him. He swallowed, trying to keep his gaze focused on her face, and not the fact that he could see clear up her shirt. He hadn't realized he'd zoned out so badly.
"You were ignoring me," he said, faking a pout. She leaned down to kiss it better, just like he'd hoped, warm lips sliding against his in a way that sent a shiver up his spine, despite the deadened area from his scar. When she pulled back he licked his lips, tasting her on his tongue. He wanted more.
"I was doing something important," she insisted, slipping onto the log behind him, arms coming around his waist and lips pressing to his shoulder where the slit in his sleeve left his skin bare. "I needed to write it down before I forgot, and you were distracting me."
"What's more important than me?" he joked, eyes on the little notebook that she was still holding.
"I think I found him Zephe," she murmured, voice quiet and serious. He felt like he'd been dunked in ice water, and he found it more than a little hard to breathe.
"H-Him?" he asked, trying to turn and catch her eye. She couldn't be serious. He'd been waiting years, and he was always just out of reach. Did she really...?
Her eyes reflected the firelight eerily, but it wasn't enough to mask the mix of emotions swirling in them. She held his gaze as she shakily exhaled, breath fanning over his lips from their proximity.
"Him," she confirmed.
Rating: PG?
Pairing: Zephaya [Zephe/Zanaya]
Genre: idek
Word Count: 801
Summary: What do you keep writing in that notebook?
(Essentially writing out and getting to know characters from an idea for a video game I had).
Of all the weird quirks a person could have, Zephe had least expected Zanaya to keep a diary. It seemed too...childish for her, and didn't exactly make sense in context with the woman that he knew. And he knew that he should leave her alone to it, but curiosity was welling up inside, and really, it couldn't hurt to ask.
"Zanaya?" he asked, moving as quietly as he could over the dry leaves of their camp, trying not to startle her. He still had a bruise from the last time he'd sneaked up on her.
She made a noncommittal sound, lead scraping over the rough paper, and he decided to move in closer, kneeling behind her to rest his knees against the log she was sitting on. Placing his head on her shoulder and blowing a bit of her ridiculously long hair out of the way, he peered down at the words she was writing, a frown flitting over his lips. He didn't recognize the language.
"What do you keep writing in that notebook?" he finally asked, wrinkling his nose as she continued to fill the small pages with smudged writing that he couldn't understand.
"Nothing you need to worry about right now," she murmured, trying to shrug him off, and he couldn't help the small pang of hurt that ran through him. She was usually the one who was more hands-on, and to have her push him away wasn't something that was normal, or what he wanted after such a long day.
"Where did you even get that?" he continued, shifting so he could throw one leg over the rough wood, hands steadying him on the bark as he studied her profile in the flickering firelight. "I don't remember picking it up off of anyone, or getting it in town."
"You don't remember a lot of things babe," she teased, letting out a short, strained burst of laughter, poking his knee through his torn pants. "I found it earlier in town while you were stocking up on food."
"What did you get it for?" Because unless she was writing down recipes for making healing salves, or directions for their next mission, he really couldn't think of a reason for it.
"To write in," she answered cheekily, eyebrow lifting in a grin that her mouth didn't quite achieve.
He groaned, flopping back against the log, planting his boots in the dirt to keep himself from rolling off. "What are you writing in it?" he tried again, the words muffled by his arm thrown over his face. He just wanted to make conversation with her, was that really so bad?
He was expecting another sharp remark, not for her to smack his leg with the book and get up to move to the other side of the campfire, heaving out a sigh as she did. He brought his arm down and sat up, frowning as her bangs fell over her face, hiding her expression from view.
Several quiet minutes passed, the scribbling of her pencil and the crackling of the fire the only noises aside from their breathing that he could hear.
"Oh quit moping," he heard a moment later, a tug to his braid pulling his head back until he was looking up at her standing above him. He swallowed, trying to keep his gaze focused on her face, and not the fact that he could see clear up her shirt. He hadn't realized he'd zoned out so badly.
"You were ignoring me," he said, faking a pout. She leaned down to kiss it better, just like he'd hoped, warm lips sliding against his in a way that sent a shiver up his spine, despite the deadened area from his scar. When she pulled back he licked his lips, tasting her on his tongue. He wanted more.
"I was doing something important," she insisted, slipping onto the log behind him, arms coming around his waist and lips pressing to his shoulder where the slit in his sleeve left his skin bare. "I needed to write it down before I forgot, and you were distracting me."
"What's more important than me?" he joked, eyes on the little notebook that she was still holding.
"I think I found him Zephe," she murmured, voice quiet and serious. He felt like he'd been dunked in ice water, and he found it more than a little hard to breathe.
"H-Him?" he asked, trying to turn and catch her eye. She couldn't be serious. He'd been waiting years, and he was always just out of reach. Did she really...?
Her eyes reflected the firelight eerily, but it wasn't enough to mask the mix of emotions swirling in them. She held his gaze as she shakily exhaled, breath fanning over his lips from their proximity.
"Him," she confirmed.