Slow Seconds
Rasia

Notes: Yeah, so you readers might know me as yume-chan29. Or not. But I wanted a separate account to post my DK stories, so I created Rasia! (The origin of my name is quite the conundrum, no?) And to start off under my new pseudonym, a collection of Rath x Cesia drabbles! HOORAH.

Enjoy. :D

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Treasury

Theme: 001 Savings Box.

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He noticed that wherever they went—be it the deserts of Sarazra to the metropolis that was Meteora to the most remote mountain ranges in all of Dusis—among her belongings was always an obscure box.

The blue-violet, hexagonal shaped package was around the size of his palm and probably made of heavy paper or cardboard, considering the dullness of the sound it made whenever Cesia dropped it on her bedside table. It was always within close proximity of its owner and sometimes, it would be wrapped in black ribbon, an extra precaution to keep out the daring intruders.

Rath didn't know much else about the box, though. He'd never seen inside. (And considering the enormous amounts of time they spent in each other's presences, he figured she was really going out of her way to keep the box's mysterious essence a secret.)

Though he'd never pegged Cesia to be overly sentimental, he knew that whatever it was, it had to be important.

In the beginning, when their relationship had been new and raw and rather awkward, he'd asked of its contents out of pure, ignorant curiosity. And when she had responded with a resounding, 'It's none of your business', he'd simply shrugged and left it at that.

Be it that he didn't care too much about the box or about the girl, what mattered was that he didn't care too much. Period.

The course of time has a way of changing things.

And somewhere along the road, his apathy had transformed into this monster of an emotion that wasn't quite sympathy or empathy. Cesia had turned a dusty gear in his figurative heart of hearts, and the need to see the insides of the box was becoming more and more…irritating by the day.

It had been an ordinary midsummer afternoon; she'd been trying to be inconspicuous about shuffling through the box, when the nagging urgency to know its contents snapped him into action.

He asked again.

She looked at him curiously with those lightning-bright eyes, a question remaining unsaid on her lips. There was a short flash of hesitation, before it was overcome by quiet resolve.

She nodded, handing him the box.

He took it carefully, with the same cautiousness needed to handle ancient porcelain, mostly because his forethought was important to her.

Rath opened it. And was rather...discouraged, actually.

They were silly little things, he discovered. Knickknacks and tiny items of short-lived novelty.

He held up a shard of what seemed to be colored glass.

"That was part of a church window," she explained, voice languid with nostalgia, "The first one I've ever been in. It was burned down when the local villagers found out that a witch and a demon child had stepped through the doors."

He was awed not by her resilience (he'd always believed in her strength, anyhow) but by the fact she was sharing such intimate knowledge about herself with him.

Rath rummaged through the package, picking up a familiar mirror.

"Oh. That's from Zoma." She smiled blindingly, "You should know it. It's the one I snuck him into the Dragon Castle with."

He nodded, knowing how thoroughly Cesia doted on that kid.

He grabbed another article and found it doubly recognizable. A bow.

"Hey isn't this—" He started.

"Yep." She finished, grinning. "The bow from that package I kept Nadil's head in."

The ribbon fell like a hot potato (with reasonable air resistance).

"Don't drop it!" She screeched, expression shifting from relatively spirited to down right irritated. "It's a memento!"

"No. Cesia, a snow globe is a memento. That," he muttered, eyes going to the ribbon in her open palm, "is creepy."

She scoffed lightly, "You wouldn't understand." (If he were to be totally honest with himself, he would admit that that hurt a little.)

"Those adventures that we had…" She went on, gingerly placing the bow back in the box, "…meant something to me." She then made to snatch the package, brows furrowing with exasperation. "And if you're going to make fun, then I'm taking this back—"

"No, wait." He mumbled, seizing her wrist. "I'm sorry. I'd…I'd like to see the rest."

The little grin she sent his way had his heart pumping a little irregularly.

"Ok."

Rath shook off the sensation, going through the box again. He took out what seemed to be a napkin with scribbles all over it, gaze roving over to her in question.

"Oh. That." She laughed as if she were sharing an inside joke with herself. "Bierrez."

The name snapped him to attention.

"When I was working as a waitress in that restaurant in the Misty Valley, Bierrez often came to eat. Or flirt." She giggled and something like acid bubbled uncomfortably in his throat.

He looked to the napkin in his (now unreasonably tight) grip and started to read.

Ces, spot me this one, k? I forgot my wallet. :D

Sure you did, you moocher. I'll put this on your tab.

Aw, c'mon, Ces. Cut some slack for your favorite customer.

Sorry, Bierrez. My favorite customer happens to be an old man who comes in every Friday, orders a usual, and tips generously. Not you.

Ouch, that hurt. And you know he just tips because he thinks you're cute.

Which makes me like him even more. :D

Ok. Tell you what. Instead of a tip, I'll treat you to a night on the town.

Are you asking me out on a date, moocher boy?

You said it, not me, babe. But I'll gladly take you up on that offer if you're willing.

…I'll take that into consideration if you promise to never call me babe again.

I'll pick you up at 8.

Rath had come to a singular conclusion upon finishing. Cesia and Bierrez's relationship had been so sickeningly sweet, he was glad he hadn't been there to witness it developing. He would have surely vomited all over his shoes (or throttled Bierrez, he didn't know which).

"We're not like that anymore." She went on, shrugging, "But that part of my past was really important to me." She smiled at him, stretching her arms in a relaxed sort of manner. "Made me feel…wanted, you know?"

He nodded. Sort of.

Damn it. The image of Cesia and Bierrez, laughing and flirting and touching, wouldn't leave his mind and it left a lingering bitterness on his tongue.

He sorted through the box, picking up a wilting flower that had miraculously kept all its silk petals. Again, a flash of recognition burst through his head.

"This…" He alleged, voice muted. "From the Light Dragon's grave…?"

She nodded solemnly, cloudy eyes to the sky. "I…I was just walking through the West Gardens and came upon it by accident." She then looked at him, gold on crimson, face a little apologetic, "I didn't know it was your special place."

"…You were the one who left the flowers." He met her gaze and therein laid his silent message.

It's ok. As long as it's you, then it's ok.

She understood, sending him a grateful smile.

Rath turned back to the box in careful consideration. Gone was the notion that the items she stored here were meaningless ornaments. From the purple ribbon that she said Queen Raseleane had given her upon her arrival at the Dragon Castle to the cork of the bottle stopper she claimed had helped keep in her first potion; everything, he noticed, held some special connection to her past, to individuals and events she deemed important.

He then fished out an item all too familiar. A silver cross earring he'd thought he misplaced a month ago.

"This is mine." He said simply, his mind overwhelmed by the implications.

As she turned away, hurriedly snatching back the box and the earring, he swore he saw pink on her cheeks.

"Yeah."

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End

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