Nephenee seems anxious. She fiddles with the hem of her skirt. Bites her lip. Plays with her hair.

Heather would think it cute any other day; today, it's a bit more disconcerting.

For the second time in her young life, Nephenee gets to return home from war. She's still in amour- at least partially- and the silver lance that has fought countless battles now serves as a disproportionate walking cane. A humble heroine of war, homebound at last—Heather quite enjoys the romanticism of that.

Melior isn't too far anymore, if the waving farmers working the fields are anything to go by. The air is dusty from ploughs being dragged across dry soil, but they seem to recognise Nephenee just fine. And, at the very least, she returns the waves with some of her own, albeit a little less enthusiastically and more wary of the weapon in her grasp.

Being loved by her village as much must be nice, Heather supposes; she herself has never been a favourite among locals. Thankfully, she has little reason to return there soon- her mother had gotten a lot better since she'd left her all those months ago. She's almost offended, honestly.

Up a small hill, the few houses making up the village come into view. Nephenee stops in her tracks just a step away from the first house's level. Shyly and ever so awkwardly, she glances at Heather from the corner of her eye, seizing her wrist with her free hand and pressing her thumb to her pulse.

"Um—"

She begins, and promptly stares at the floor. That obtrusive helmet of hers is still firmly planted on her head and a curtain of hair do a great job of effectively hiding her face.

It takes a few seconds, but then she looks back up. "My folks 'n everyone else, they...," she tries once more and awkwardly draws patterns in the air with her lance. It's been a while since she'd been so tongue-tied.

"Take your time," Heather offers, too bemused and endeared by Nephenee's flustered attempts at getting her point across to really help her. The grip around her wrist tightens.

"Look, Heather, they've always been expectin' that I'd be bringin' a man home," she explains, finally deciding on what to say. "I haven't the slightest what they're gonna think. Out here, it's all 'bout inheritin' the farm, so with me bein' the eldest..."

Heather feels something melt inside her. "Are you scared they might throw you out?" she asks, if only for confirmation, and Nephenee nods stiffly. Her face pulls into a wry little smile and she frees her wrist to cup Nephenee's face in her palms. "Don't worry. If they do, we'll just elope. Live out the rest of our lives as mercenaries. Maybe ask some old acquaintances to join us. Get rich. Live like queens! Doesn't that sound fun?"

She expects Nephenee to dismiss her- maybe snort that little laugh of hers, if she's feeling generous. What she doesn't expect her to do is to lean forward and capture her lips in a firm, almost searing kiss. It's surprising, but not at all unwelcome. Still, Heather would have preferred for it to last much longer than it actually does.

"Let's just hope that we ain't gonna have to fall back on that plan, though," Nephenee says, but she's smiling the tiniest of smiles as she readjusts the helmet on her head.

Truth be told, Heather is a little scared of rejection. But for both their sakes, she smiles just a bit brighter and takes Nephenee's hand into her own, dragging her forward.

"Your parents will love me," she declares, as though that's a fact.

Nephenee huffs a little laugh.

a/n: mmmmm this ship is so good mmmmmmmmmm