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“All right, keep your eyes closed, I’ll tell you when.”
With Veth perched on the low bed and him sitting crosslegged on the floor, she is taller but not by much. Ever since she mentioned working on a spell Caleb has been itching to see for himself, so he’s more than willing to do as she says. He wonders what field of magic it will fit into (though knowing her she’ll pay no mind to that), whether it has material components, whether she can teach it to him once she has it mastered. Whatever it is.
There’s a suspicious lack of sound. And then he hears her fingers click and a faint rustle.
“Ok!”
Caleb blinks and his eyes focus closer than he was expecting; in her hands is a small bunch of mostly purple wildflowers.
“Oh!” He says quietly, and can’t help his lips curling into a smile. “This is rather impressive.” He pauses and looks up to her. “Are these for me?”
“Yes,”
He takes them in one hand carefully and turns the bouquet around. It’s fastened with a dull yellow ribbon. A couple of the flowers he recognises, though not by name. There are delicate plumes of vetch and catmint, in between white clovers and a few bright heads of chamomile. The smell is subtle and sweet.
It’s a moment before he can speak, and when he does he sounds touched. “You said a new spell, so how long - you conjured these?”
“Oh, well, not long,” She says. “The flower market in Nicodranas gave me some ideas.”
“Well, they are-” Caleb starts to speak, then frowns. It dawns on him that the flowers do not seem to give off a magical aura. “Oh.”
Veth snorts and keels forward giggling, arms around her middle, and he tries and fails to hold back a grin as he hangs his head.
“Well, now I feel foolish.”
She puts her hands over his to nudge a couple of the stems into place. “I wasn’t lying, I do have a spell but, these are just a thank you, you know.”
“Veth, they are beautiful.”
Her lips twitch sheepishly, and she laughs once out of nervousness, looking down. “Would you like me to put some in your hair?”
“Ah… yes, I would very much.”
She sits up straighter and, businesslike, plucks a couple of the yellow and white blooms to put behind his ears. He watches as her expression shifts to one of complete focus.
“You think I need the luck?”
She shrugs. “I think we all do. Hmm,” She sits back and tilts her head, eyes flitting back and forth, then appears to come to a decision. “Turn around,”
When he has, she carefully unties the cord that holds his ponytail in place and runs her fingers through it a couple of times to part it - he so rarely takes it down that the hair holds its shape firmly.
Caleb shuts his eyes. This feels nice, stills his thoughts: the gentle pulling and adjusting, her dextrous fingers twisting this way and that over his head, the way she sometimes places a steadying hand on his neck and brushes behind his ears to catch stray hairs. Veth likes her hands to be busy. She starts to hum a tune aimlessly.
After a while, not long enough, she pauses again to appreciate her work (a simple braid with flowers threaded down the centre) and takes his head with her hands on both sides. She tilts it back so that he’s looking up at her upside-down, and holds his gaze for a moment before placing a peck on the top of his head. “I’m done,” She announces.
He turns back around and feels the braid gingerly. “Pleased?”
“Eh, it’s ok, could use some work,”
He huffs a laugh. “Thank you, I, I have missed this,”
“So have I,”
His chest feels very tight.
There’s something easy about eye contact between them, different to how it is with everybody else. It’s routine for them to hold one another’s gaze and know the other is… not indifferent, but un-judgemental. It doesn’t feel like scrutiny like other folk’s eyes do. So it’s odd, new, when Veth sees his eyes flicker to her lips and she feels herself blush.
Slow at first, he leans towards her as if he’s lost his balance, then closes his eyes. He kisses her cheek lightly. It’s not quite right, closer to the corner of her mouth. And it’s meant to be quick, but her own lips respond automatically, so he lingers for a second. Her skin is so much softer than he thought.
(I’m going to stealthily try to put a flower in her hair)
(make a sleight of hand check)
He inhales as he pulls back, his face bright red.
Veth drops the hand which had been hovering by his neck. There’s an odd feeling in her hands, knuckles, and her throat too, as if there were butterflies in her stomach but in the wrong place.
She looks down. “So, about that spell…”