Taylor Eras Stories

Dish, Defense, Development - Folklore/Poets (Fluff)

!Non-Canon!

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Poets stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen, breathing in and out trying to steady her hands from waving involuntary. Exhaling, her lip quavered, staring at the woman in the kitchen who just so happened to be her girlfriend. Taking a step forward she held gently on the gift in her hand, its buttons slightly poking her palm.

Folklore's hum held steady, as did her grip on a spoon that stirred the pot of vegetable concoction. She ignored the sounds of footsteps on the ceramic floor behind her, her expression changing to annoyance; brows furrowing to focus on the making of dinner.

"Honey?" Poets stood behind Folklore, biting her lip, trying to wait for a response. None. "Baby?" Poets tried again, steadily moving herself around, ending up by Folklore's side, bending down a bit to look at her face. "Babyyyyy?" She held the last one out, slightly smirking at the end. Folklore grumbled, rolling her eyes, still not noticing Poets. "Oh can't you see, I said I was sorry, can't you feel?" She splayed her upper body on the countertop, her hands in the form of a prayer, begging her girlfriend to reason.

"We art still wroth with thee." And finally one came, but not one Poets was exactly looking for. Folklore started to whisk the soup vigorously, her agitation clear and front.

"Can we not let this matter be? Apologies back and forth all day, just for thee!"

"That wast ere thou- ARGH!" Folklore slammed the spoon on the table, clutching her scalp. "Forget it!" She began to stomp out of the kitchen, Poets quickly getting up to stop her.

"Wait!" She was in front, nervous sweats starting to encase her forehead as her girlfriend looked down with a raised eyebrow. Inhaling she removed the gift from behind her back, showing a white cardigan. It was decorated in paint, purples and greys encapsulating the arms in a glorious romantic manner. Folklore was wide eyed for a moment, taking the clothing before smirking back up at Poets.

"Speak Now didst put thee up to this, didst she not?" Her girlfriend shrugged, winking before grinning. Folklore sighed, delicately clutching the fabric before putting it up to her skin. "Thou art truly sorry, art thou not?"

"More than anything." Her expression was sorrowful, eyes starting to water as her mind ran with scenarios of what if this doesn't happen the way Poets wanted.

"Thou hasnt changed, but evolution doth not happen overnight." Folklore looked down to the floor, noticing how it needed to be swept soon, her tone now one of acceptance. Her girlfriend took one finger to her chin, forcing Folklore's face up, gleaming.

"Evolution's dance spans countless years."

"Thousands, to be precise."

"Why must you always fan my fears?" Poets sighed dramatically, clearly half sarcastic with her comment, hand on her head.

"To aid thee in thine evolution." Folklore smirked, finally putting the cardigan over her shoulders, pecking Poets gently on the lips.