"It's a bad habit of yours, Rosethorn, and it's scaring them out of their wits," Lark said as gently as she could manage with the words she needed to get out. Rosethorn looked down at her body, covered in a forest-green habit that was indeed not upscale or "good".
"Awwr, this dirty old thing? Of course it's no good!" the green mage replied with an impish smirk even as her eyes showed, if only for a moment, that she was now concerned.
"You know what I'm speaking of, love."
"Yes, I know," the shorter woman began as she took a seat on the stool before one of her working benches. She waved a hand to offer another of the stool's to the tall thread mage. "It's not terribly hard to scare a child out of its wits."
"'its'? For Mila's sake, Rosie, they're people too!" Lark exclaimed and then became very silent with widened eyes. She had just raised her voice. Lark never raised her voice. It was one of the things the household could count on. Rosethorn looked up quickly and bit her lip. Maybe it was time for a little honesty.
"I try; Lark, but they scare me out of my wits as well. I freeze up on the inside when one passes by. I don't know what to do so I snap and intimidate. I'm sorry, Lark," Rosethorn spilled as she brought her elbow to the work bench tabletop and rested forehead on her fingertips. Her auburn hair caught the sunlight as it fell to the side to follow gravity's rule.
"Oh, Rosie…" Lark whispered as she stood and walked around to the other woman's back. Long, golden arms enveloped the stocky woman and a smooth, cat-like cheek pressed to that wonderful auburn hair. The aroma was of cinnamon and the fields. After the taller female took a long breath she spoke again. "I know it's hard, but that apology must go to the children."
The plant mage turned her head to the left and pressed her cheek to Lark's. The two were silent for a moment before Rosethorn whispered, "Do you think I'll ever get used to this?"
Lark kissed that pale stretch of skin and fluttered her lashes like the ex-tumbler she was. The vulnerable woman before her giggled as the dark-haired woman reassured, "Yes, love. It'll always be hard but I know you can do this. Remember, I'm at your side."
A smile spread over those pink lips and up into the forest-colored eyes above them. It was an unusual sight that Lark had the pleasure of seeing most. Rosethorn's voice was as soft as it ever could be—which wasn't terribly soft, but was in Lark's ears—as she murmured, "Thank you, La-Love. You're always here to cover my thorns in silk."
It wouldn't have sounded like much to any other Dedicate but Lark heard it all. A lone tear filled with joy, acceptance, and love trickled from her tear duct down to her jawbone where it slipped from Lark's skin and fell to land with a minute splash on Rosethorn's ivory skin. There it met the water droplet that came from the plant mage's eye.
"I'll try," the female whispered as she brought her other hand up to Lark's arm and rubbed gently. Lark squeezed the shorter woman heartily and pressed their lips together as they locked eyes in comfort and gratitude.
It would all be all right.