Title: The Gilded Days
Fandom: Berserk
Pairing: Griffith/Casca
Rating:PG
Word Count: 452
Summary/Description:Casca is growing and learning and moving irrevocably towards the end.
Warning/Spoilers:None.
A/N: 31 days, February 2nd: what feeds me destroys me. First Berserk fic, hurray! Original OTP, too. Takes places about a year after Casca first joins Griffith.
Disclaimer: I do not own Berserk.
The rustling in the foliage nearby is slight and carefully controlled, but Casca is out of the stream with her sword in her hands before her enemy can appear. She dashes her soaking wet bangs out of her eyes and assesses her situation quickly. The camp is not too far away; she can call for help if need be. The forest is thick and dark; she can make good use of it for an escape. Griffith disappeared a while ago, but he…
…Is standing right in front of her, expression torn between bemusement and amusement.
"Casca," he says, raising his brows, and then turns away neatly.
It is only then that Casca can fully appreciate what a ridiculous picture she must make, standing naked with her sword clasped in her hands like a lifeline. She blushes to the roots of her hair, and quickly slips back into the stream, hot and ashamed. She submerges herself up to her neck, and then quietly tells her commander that it is okay for him to turn around.
He smiles benevolently as he does so. His boots make nary a sound on the soft earth as he moves to a spot closer to the stream, and sits on a rock.
"I came to ascertain your position; the others said that you had gone off for a bath. But they were not sure where."
She blushes further, and apologises quietly. His kind smile only makes the sick feeling in her stomach worse.
"That was a good reaction, just then," he remarks. "You had no idea who I was, and it is always better to be safe than sorry." He gazes at her with open honesty, and she cannot help but look back. It is one of Griffith's many strange qualities; once one looks at him, one cannot look away. His light shines that brightly. She feels a bit better already.
"You will get used to things here, to this life," he continues calmly. "You must." The look he gives her then is not unlike the look he gave her more than a year ago, when she gathered all the mettle in herself and killed, killed to prove herself, and joined him.
"Yes, Griffith," she says, voice firmer and steadier. She finds herself standing straighter out of reflex. "I shall."
He smiles, and stands.
"Good. When you are finished, you can come find me, and train with me. We still have much work to do."
She nods, still looking at him as he walks away, looking at him like he is the only thing in her line of vision. She keeps looking until the white gleam of his hair is no longer visible through the dark green leaves.
A/N: I would very much like feedback; I have no idea if I got these characters right or wrong or okay or whatever. :(