Pietr and Griet scraps

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</noinclude>

Griet freezes, popcorn halfway to her mouth.

“I can't /**believe** he just said that,” gripes Maarten from the far end of the couch.

“I can't believe someone got paid for /**writing** that,” adds Dafne, squashed against Griet's side.

A brush to Griet's fingers, no popcorn in her grip, a teensy crunch from her other hip.

Griet twists to face Pietr, glares.

Pietr puts on his biggest, softest puppy-dog eyes and barely kisses her fingertips.

The corner of Griet's mouth turns up. ::That's the only kiss you'll get tonight, thief.::

He pouts, slouches lower into the cushions.

Maarten leans around the girls, pokes Pietr's thigh.

Pietr attends.

.::Was it worth it?::

Pietr huffs, crosses his arms, sinks even deeper into the couch.

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</noinclude>

Pietr wakes, his belly full of warmth and his head stuffed with sparkles.

Hot, lemony air in his lungs, hot breath on his bare chest.

Griet—

Silky blonde hair loose of its braids, fanned across the pillow.

Constellations of summer freckles across her nose, cheeks, shoulders.

Long, pale lashes which tickle his cheek when she nips at his earlobe.

Pietr rests a hand on her hip, sighs contently, waits for her to wake.

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</noinclude>

Pietr breaks the surface, shakes [dam] water from his eyes. He pushes his hair off his forehead, beckons to Griet.

In the starlight, her gesture for patience is barely visible.

He smiles, swims a little closer to shore, and treads water.

She works on the buttons of her shirt.

Pietr watches.

Griet crouches, sets her bra atop her folded shirt and jeans, steps out of her panties, and adds them to the pile. She faces him, smiling shyly, wades into the water.

Pietr swallows—a mouthful of water, remembers to move his limbs.

She swims to him, laughs as she draws nearer.

Pietr blinks.

Griet [slows] to a halt, grins.

Pietr—

She splashes him with a faceful of water.

Pietr wipes his eyes clear, queries.

‘It's not polite to stare’, say her lips as her eyes laugh.

Pietr grins wickedly, lunges for her.

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.::How do we do this?:: Griet eyes the bathtub with suspicion as it fills with water and bubbles.

Pietr grins. ::We climb in, then relax.::

Griet pokes his nose, says, 'Funny', with an eyebrow. ::I've never shared a bath before, Dandelion.::

Pietr blinks. ::Not even your sister?::

.::Not since we were babies.::

Pietr squares up. ::It's about time, then.::

She grins. ::It probably is.::

He twists the faucet closed, offers his hand.

Griet uses his strength for balance as she lowers herself into the water and nestles amid the foam.

Pietr climbs in behind her, tucks her under his chin.

She leans against his chest, sighs contently.

They bask in the warmth of the water and each other, Pietr kneading the skin above her hips.

Griet sighs contently, stretches out.

He splays his hands, kisses her nape.

She hums, bows her head.

He lavishes her neck with kisses, slides his hands over her hip and stomach, her ribs, her--

Griet gasps.

Pietr smiles against her neck, cups her breast, dragging a calloused finger over her nipple.

Griet twists into his other hand, reaches up, threads her fingers through his curls, guides his lips to the corner of her mouth.

Pietr accepts the invitation, kisses her thoroughly, tracing intricate patterns over her breast and hip.

She hums, leads Pietr's hand between her legs.

He smiles against her skin, lets her set the rhythm—fast, then slow, then slower still as she cants her hips and tugs his hair—then her back arches and she bites down a shriek.

Pietr nuzzles her cheek, loosely drapes his arms around her waist.

Griet sighs happily, pools against him.

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</noinclude>

Griet wakes, takes a moment behind closed lids to glory in the love and warmth of Pietr against her back, his arm across her middle, hand laced with hers over her heart.

She shifts her fingers—A tiny sound as her new ring /*clink*s with his.

—her eyes prick, and she brushes a kiss to Pietr's knuckles.

He sighs happily into her hair, ever-so-gently squeezes her hand.

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</noinclude>

Pietr side-eyes Griet.

Still glued to the TV screen—and some incomprehensible American sitcom—like she has been since dinner.

He edges closer to her on the couch.

No response.

Cloooseeeer.

Nothing.

Streeeetches his arm around her shoulders.

No reaction.

He huffs, leans over, and kisses her cheek.

Griet twists to face him, lips pressed very thin. ::Not now! It's due back tomorrow and there's six more!:: Turns away.

Pietr rolls his eyes, snags his DS from the side table, starts up /*Black and White*.

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Pietr bounces into the kitchen, twirls over to Griet's seat at the table, kisses her temple.

She leans back, kisses the corner of his mouth.

He nuzzles her cheek, grins, sets a small pink bag in front of her.

.::What's this?::

.::A treat for us.::

.::Candy?::

.::Hearts!::

She smiles mischievously. ::What's the occasion?::

Pietr pulls an exaggerated scowl, yanks the bag to his chest.

Griet bats her eyelashes innocently.

Pietr turns his back to her.

The package rattles.

He pivots, tugs Griet to her feet.

Griet raises an eyebrow.

Pietr opens his mouth.

'Kiss me', says the heart on his tongue.

Griet laughs, drapes her arms around his neck, and steals the candy with her kiss.

Pietr breaks off, pouts.

Griet fumbles for the package, offers it.

Pietr accepts, furrow between his eyes.

.::You'll just have to find another one.:: She smirks. ::But don't take too long.::

Pietr grins, paws through the candies.

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Griet wiggles sleepily closer to the dip in the other side of the mattress, tucks up against—an empty pillow.

Her heart clenches and she clamps her eyes shut on hot tears.

Two years ago today ....

A gentle breath of air caresses her cheek, her hair, touched with a familiar scent his pillow lost months ago and she'll /**swear** she hears the whisper of feathers.

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</noinclude>

“Izzy?” calls Rika from the doorway.

Izzy looks up, smiles, pats the bed. “What's up?”

Rika pads over, plops down.

He tucks aside his textbook.

She picks at the comforter.

Izzy waits.

Rika takes a deep breath, her eyes focused somewhere around Izzy's knee. “Do you remember what Papa looked like?” Snuffs, adds softly, “I can't.”

Izzy lets out a shaky breath. “I do.” Sad chuckle. “I can't forget, actually.”

Rika looks up with bright, shiny eyes. “W-why not?”

“Because I look just like him. 'cept he had brown eyes, like [Fenna].”

Rika crumples, sniffles.

“C'mere.” Izzy pulls her into his lap, tucks her under his chin.

“I miss him,” she whispers.

“Me, too.”

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Griet cradles Dandelion to her chest with one hand, wipes away tears with the other.

He stares up at her with big brown eyes.

“You'll be okay,” she coos, stroking his soft cheek. “I'll patch you up, good as new.”

Dandelion's smile says he's reassured.

With a sniffle, Griet cushions him on her pillow, slips from her bed and to her mother's sewing basket in the front room. She chooses a needle and thread, pads back.

Dandelion looks relieved.

Griet gently scoops him into her lap, eases off his torn shirt, desperately careful of his injured arm. Her eyes well.

His arm is nearly torn off at the shoulder.

“That dog is a monster,” she hisses, swiping fiercely at her eyes. “This shouldn't have happened. I should /**never'**ve let you out of my sight.”

Dandelion's expression offers forgiveness.

Griet takes a deep breath, picks up her needle, threads it, frowns. “Too pink,” she mutters. “You'll have a scar, sweetie. I'm so sorry.”

Dandelion gazes at her with understanding.

She gives him a relieved smile, centers herself.

Patiently, cautiously, she stitches the edges of the wound together, nudges Dandelion's stuffing gently back into place.

“Ow!” squeaks Griet, hastily sucking blood from her pricked finger before a drop can stain Dandelion's pale skin. “I'll be right back. I have to put a bandage on this.” She settles him on the pillow, races to the washroom, wraps her finger, ignores the scratches up and down her arm from Draak's blunt claws—badges of honour—races back.

“Only a couple more,” she soothes, reclaims her needle.

Dandelion smiles encouragingly.

Griet places the final stitches, too pink against Dandelion's skin, leaving a line around his shoulder and halfway down his left arm.

She cradles Dandelion to her chest, nuzzles the fuzzy yarn curls on his head.

“I'm so sorry, Dandelion. I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise.”

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Arms full with a sack of groceries, Griet makes the last turn on her walk home from the shop.

A teenage boy with curly blond hair stands beside her family's car, trying to release the lock with a tool of some sort.

“What are you doing?” she yells, rushing closer. “Get away from there!”

No reaction from the teen.

She sets the groceries on the kerb, stomps up to the car, grabs his arm, spins him around.

He blinks wide brown eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Hands up in surrender—tool rattles to the ground—and a gesture for calm.

“Griet!”

The front door of the house bangs closed and her father trumps over.

“Your mother locked her keys inside,” huffs Isaac. “Val sent him—" Jerks his thumb at the boy. "—over to open it. Think he's Val's youngest. The one they sent away.”

Vos watches Isaac, nods earnestly.

“Oh. I'm sorry about yelling at you,” she says to Vos.

No response.

“Don't bother apologizing. He's stone deaf.”

Vos frowns, shapes figures in the air with sharp, jerky motions.

“Can't talk, either.”

More angry signs and thinned lips.

“I think he can read lips, Papa.”

Isaac scoffs. “Fat lot of good that'll do him.”

Griet frowns, places a gentle hand on the Vos' arm.

He turns to her, eyebrows raised.

“Can you understand what I'm saying?”

He beams, nods.

“Have you finished with the lock?”

Thumb and index finger held about a centimeter apart.

Griet smiles. “Finish up and we can go somewhere and talk.”

Vos blinks, then a smiles creeps across his face. He snaps a salute, reclaims his tool, and sets to work.

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</noinclude>

Purple-green-shine flashes in the late afternoon sun as Pietr creeps down to the river's edge.

Pearl turns bright blue eyes on him at his approach, waiting where she promised with toes brushing the water and wings flexing slowly in the dappled light of the little grove.

He smiles, waves.

She beckons him closer.

He sits cross-legged next to her, digs a paper sack of sandwiches and fruit from his bag and offers them.

She accepts with “Thank you.”

Pietr bobs his head in acknowledgment. He points to her right wing, queries with an eyebrow, slowly says, ::How is it?::

“Still healing.” Grimaces. “Slowly.”

Pietr frowns sympathetically.

Pear cocks her head—an almost birdlike motion, setting the string of pearls in her hair to shimmering, and studies him.

He smiles encouragingly.

She shakes aside an idea, asks instead, “Have any fun at school?”

Pietr scoffs.

“How much longer?”

.::Six months.:: Sighs.

“What will you do after you graduate?”

Pietr cringes. ::Won't graduate. My marks are awful.::

“I'm sorry. You won't what?”

He carefully writes the word in the dirt between them. Says it again.

.::Thank you,:: says Pearl.

Pietr beams magnificently.

“But what will you do?”

He shrugs. ::Work with Papa fixing things, probably.::

“No adventures to distant places?”

He shakes his head. ::This is home and I want to stay here.:: His eyes slide to the river. ::Find a wife, buy a house, start a family, maybe.::

Dapples shift and flicker across Pearl's wings.

“May I—” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “—ask a strange question?”

Pietr inclines his head in invitation.

“What would you do if you met a god?”

.::A real god?::

Pearl nods.

He shrugs. ::Depends on what they'd want to do to me.::

“Of course.” She smiles. “Their intentions are good.”

.::Can I trust them?::

“Definitely.”

Pietr grins. ::I would offer them fruit and sandwiches.::

Pearl's laugh bursts out; she wipes her eyes. “My father's actually a veldt god, so I'm—”

He blinks rapidly. ::A real /**god**?::

She laughs again. “Yes, a real one. With magic, too.”

So you're a—:: Frowns in concentration. ::—a little god?::

Pearl nods, then her eyes dim. “I'm not hu—”

He taps her lips, shrugs 'so what?', pulls her to his chest.

She giggles against his neck, cocoons them—mostly—in her wings.

He weaves the fingers of one hand into the downy feathers on her good side, rests the other on her nape.

After a moment, she takes a deep breath and straightens.

Pietr presses his forehead to hers.

She leans away, says, "You're the kindest, sweetest creature I've ever met." Deep breath, eyes shining. “I barely miss home because of you.”

Pietr's eyebrows jump to his hairline.

“/**This** feels like home now.” Smiles faintly. “/**You** feel like home to me.”

He ducks his head.

Pearl cups his chin, lifts Pietr's face, cradles him with her good wing.

Her kiss tastes like honey.

She pulls away. “I love you, Pietr.”

Pietr smiles so widely his face hurts. ::I love you, Pearl,:: he says.

Pearl glows, throws her arms around him.

## Yer a wizard, Pietr

(Inspired by the Dragon Age staff and PP's subsequent comment)

A student tears from Professor Vos's office, a projectile teddy bears zinging by their head.

Griet picks her way around the plush, snaps her fingers.

The lights flicker.

Pietr, hair wild and eyes blazing, turns--Griet!

She smiles.

He sets down his staff--

""Mmmf!"" grumbles the--! Life sized /Snorlax?

What did they do?::
Pietr waves dismissively.

Griet giggles.

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</noinclude>

Griet steels herself, fills her lungs, carefully takes her first step beyond Pallet town.

On the other side of this patch of tall grass, Pietr catches her eye and starts flailing.

"Okay, okay, I'll battle you!"

Pietr bounces on his toes.

"I've never trained a Pokemon before."

Pietr begs her to show off her starter.

Griet huffs, thumbs the release of her pokeball.

Pietr sparkles with happiness.

Griet's starter materializes.

Pietr can't keep still.