[ The new clothes suit her beautifully. This is, genuinely, the best day Ozma has had in... a very long time. He has returned from campaigns to fanfare and rejoicing, and by comparison, the excitement in this little village is nothing more than a mild chatter of gossip. But Salem's delight at every new thing— the way she stops to admire every colorful little moment he wouldn't have even noticed— warms him like sunshine. His face hurts with smiling.
So he laughs, not unkindly, as she turns to him to fuss over the flowers. He has the blanket folded over his shoulder and the basket on his arm, his staff and armor left behind, and there is something so freeing and safe about this moment it feels like yesterday's battle is a world away. ]
These little ones should spring back unharmed. And they will still grow back, year after year.
[ He shifts the blanket on his shoulder so that he can reach out for her hand. The sun is beginning to set, and it casts the flowers in a warm golden glow. He will lead them through it, up the gentle rise of a little hill, to spread the blanket. ]
[ Ozma laughs, and Salem smiles back. She likes it when he laughs. Salem takes his hand; she likes that even more. She has touched Ozma a lot, throughout the day -- at least, a lot by her standards. A lean against his shoulder here, a brush against his fingertips there. The touch has a language all its own. It says: I am here. I trust you. I like you. ]
Oh, good.
[ Now that the safety of the wildflowers has been established, Salem happily follows Ozma up the hill. She lets him set down the basket and spread out the blanket before grabbing his hand again, and pulling him down onto the blanket with her. Salem has no time to waste! She would like to lie down in a field full of flowers right now, please!
Salem's grin is mischievous and playful, almost teasing, when she's so adamantly requesting Ozma's presence. But once she's lying down on the blanket properly, and he's settled on the blanket beside her, she rolls over, plucks a single flower, and rolls back to face Ozma. She holds the tiny flower out to him, her expression now earnestly open and soft. ]
Here. This is for you.
[ Salem says this with the same gravity that she used to compliment Ozma's soup. This is a gift. That's important. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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So he laughs, not unkindly, as she turns to him to fuss over the flowers. He has the blanket folded over his shoulder and the basket on his arm, his staff and armor left behind, and there is something so freeing and safe about this moment it feels like yesterday's battle is a world away. ]
These little ones should spring back unharmed. And they will still grow back, year after year.
[ He shifts the blanket on his shoulder so that he can reach out for her hand. The sun is beginning to set, and it casts the flowers in a warm golden glow. He will lead them through it, up the gentle rise of a little hill, to spread the blanket. ]
no subject
Oh, good.
[ Now that the safety of the wildflowers has been established, Salem happily follows Ozma up the hill. She lets him set down the basket and spread out the blanket before grabbing his hand again, and pulling him down onto the blanket with her. Salem has no time to waste! She would like to lie down in a field full of flowers right now, please!
Salem's grin is mischievous and playful, almost teasing, when she's so adamantly requesting Ozma's presence. But once she's lying down on the blanket properly, and he's settled on the blanket beside her, she rolls over, plucks a single flower, and rolls back to face Ozma. She holds the tiny flower out to him, her expression now earnestly open and soft. ]
Here. This is for you.
[ Salem says this with the same gravity that she used to compliment Ozma's soup. This is a gift. That's important. ]