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"Let's run away together."
Peruere always loved looking at the stars.
"..."
You turned your gaze away from the skies, offering a smile towards your companion to accompany your whimsical suggestion. Placing the book of fairytales to the side, you gently held her charcoal hands in yours.
Stars required patience to see.
"Run?"
"We can explore Fontaine together!" You let out a playful giggle, jumping off of the ledge of the window. You twirled around—bare feet touching the cold cobblestone floors. "It'll be fun!"
Peruere simply watched in silence as you recited your fantasies, coloring the pale hearth with your vividly brilliant descriptions of the trip.
You'd pick romaritime flowers together by the shore, and although it may be hard to weave through its stem, it'll make for a perfect crown. One for you, one for me—ah, and one for Mother too.
"Mother doesn't like flowers." Peruere mumbled, closing the book on her lap.
Mother doesn't like flowers.
Peruere knew there was a lot more lying in that woman's heart than a simple dislike for flowers.
+++++++++++++++
"Ouch! That hurts, Peruere..."
Peruere never liked the look of blood.
The smell of iron, the purple and blue patches on your pristine skin—a sour reminder behind the truth of the hearth.
There was no warmth present, despite its label—
—does a mother usually inflict pain?
But Peruere didn't apologize. She continued to patch your injuries; her touches were more gentle, following your complaints.
"Y'know, I really do love watching you spar." You started, watching her hands with a look of great admiration. "I wish I could hold a weapon as elegantly as you."
"...all you need is a little more practice." She opted to respond, finishing the rest of the bandages. "Besides, it's impossible not to improve if we train everyday."
Your frown turned into a bright smile upon her encouragement, suddenly feeling a little better than before.
