The Hawk and The Rat

Freesia in Her Hair

It was quiet today. In the way the woods could be at least. Birds chirped and sang, leaves rustled in the wind, and a nearby brook babbled mindlessly. The natural serenity was only disturbed by a hushed voice, reading aloud from an old novel that was presently held between the scarred fingers of a Dam Tribe blacksmith.

Hyrrokkin was leaned back against Vankasken, body cradled comfortably between the necromancer's long legs. She was reading quietly from an old book to herself and Kasken, content to spend the afternoon like this. Around them, flowers grew and added a plethora of color to the clearing, and gave the air a sweet fragrance, one that Hyrrokkin found herself able to appreciate well enough.

If Vankasken minded it, he didn't say so. Rather, the magister simply draped his form over Hyrro's, arms wrapped loosely around her waist and his chin resting comfortably atop her head so that he could idly real along with her. Since they'd settled here, he'd been on and off with playing with the ends of her haid, which for once, was pulled back into a simple ponytail for once.

There had been no surprise between the two when Vankasken had finally just let Hyrrokkin's hair loose, watching appreciatively as it fell in waves over the left side of her head, and cascaded down and across her shoulder. It had gotten longer since he'd last seen it, he thought. Nevertheless, his fingers had begun to run through the dark locks, scratching gently at the scalp beneath. His ministrations didn't seem to bother the witch. In fact, between her words, she let out a content hum and leaned subconsciously into his touch, earning a brief chuckle from the necromancer.

The two of them had stayed there like this for some time now. Afternoon had turned to evening, and by the tie Vankasken had lifted his gaze from his ministrations, he found the sky already tinged pink as Dagr began to drag the sun beneath the waiting horizon. It was then that he had an idea, and pulled his attention away from Hyrrokkin. For now, even as he shifted and wiggled around behind her, she paid him little mind, focused on her reading still.

In truth, it wasn't until something brushed along the shell of her ear and her scalp that she noticed Vankasken had changed what he was doing. Closing her book, holding her place with her thumb, Hyrrokkin glanced curiously over her shoulder, only to be met with a bright purple flower that was now entangled in her thick hair. There were other flowers with similar petals of different colors woven into her hair already, and Hyrro couldn't help but find herself confused.

"What are you doing?" She asked finally.

Her question was met with a chuckle and a wide gin on Vankasken's part, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the now orange light of the day. Of course, he never gave Hyrro a proper response, focused on weaving a red blossom into her hair. Hyrrokkin merely rolled her eyes at him, marked her place in her book and set it aside and let her attention fully settle on the necromancer who was busying himself with decorating her hair. "If I was boring you this much, you could have just left," the witch quipped with an arched brow.

Vankasken stopped what he was doing to lift his green eyes towards Hyrrokkin's, his the strands of her hair he had been holding slipping out of his grasp between his fingers like lace. "What?" He asked with a slight drawl before chuckling softly. "No, it just looks pretty," he clarified and watched, amused, as something akin to surprised awe crossed the witch's face. He watched her fight back the girlish urge to blush, and she swiveled around so that she was straddling his lap, hands resting on his shoulders.

"For being who you are, you're awfully soft," Hyrrokkin mused, smiling softly, warmly, as she brought her hands up to cup Vankasken's face. The necromancer seemed ready to retort, but was cut of by a soft pair of lips pressing against his own. The kiss was brief, but still managed to draw an appreciative hum from Kasken, his hands moving to gently grasp at Hyrro's hips. The woman chuckled softly at the action and, lingering at his lips, she pressed back against his chest to get him to lay back before leaning over him, pressing another short kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Things fell quiet between the two once more, but neither seemed to mind, stretched out in the clearing and pressed comfortably together. The sky grew darker, and it was only when the Sun slipped completely beneath the horizon and the stars above twinkled and shined down clearly, moonlight the only thing illuminating the land now, that the two feel completely still, lying contently in the grass, chest to chest and simply listening to one another's breathing. No responsibilities.

Just the two of them, and the freesia in Hyrrokkin's hair.