GROWING CLOSER

Deirdre learned to not question these odd trips the Summoner sent them on, or the point of them. Now, she knew to take it in stride.

She held a seedling in her hands — before they entered the dark, dreary cave, she saw it wilting in the overcast from the mouth. It would not do at all, so she picked it up and went to put it somewhere sunnier. Lord Arvis watched without comment, coming to join her in the clear, open patch of dirt. She offered the plant to him to hold as she pushed her sleeves up. He crouched with her, avoiding getting her fine dress or his black slacks too filthy. "Deirdre."

"I am planting it. Poor thing looks lonely out here."

"…Deirdre."

"You can go on ahead." He did not, watching her quietly as she dragged her hands through the dirt to carve out a hole. Admittedly, she knew little about gardening, but it could not be too hard — perhaps when they returned to their Askran home, she'd read up on it and try her thumb with the small patch of greenery they had.

Hands dirtied, she took the plant back, covering the seedling in dirt. The ground looked disturbed where she did, a tiny sprout sticking out on top. Standing, she offered him a supportive hand, which he brushed off. From his pocket, he procured a handkerchief.

"See! It barely took any time at all. We can be-"

Around the mound, green magic lit up. He was quick to pull her to him, but nothing catastrophic happened, quite the opposite — like it was grown, the sprout shot up into a full plant, tall as her hips. It flowered around it, a bright spark of life in these desolate ruins.

She folded up his used handkerchief, tucking it back into his pocket. "We can be on our way!"

SHROUDED IN SHADOWS

Deirdre lost him, somewhere in the cave. She was convinced he was the one lost, not her; they needed to get better at sticking with one another.

It was not an ugly cave to be stuck in — blue stones, dripping pools of water, eerie echoes off the walls — but between sunlight and the bowels of a cave, she'd pick the first. Together, they'd found what the Summoner sent them for — a rusty box with a new accessory inside of it — and now she needed to find her fool of a husband, who held the prize.

Clutching her flower vase, she crept through the cave. Her fuzzy hat kept her head warm, and the few exposed parts of her chilled with the slight breeze that blew through. Ridiculous husband! He never got to complain about her again.

Then, there was something moving behind her. She hoped it was her darling husband so they could leave and not whatever was making that horrible groaning noise. She readied her vase, turning on her toes to quickly fire off an attack, stopping short of whacking Lord Arvis in the face with flowers.

"There you are!" she said.

"Yes, dear. We should be going."

Before she could chew his ear off, she caught sight of a horde of groaning, axe-in-head monsters behind him. No good at all, quick to reach again for his hand, not willing to separate against that.

FELINE FROLICS

There was a brown and white cat hidden in the alleyway.

After their embarrassing trip in the caves, they'd left it and the ruins, going to find shelter in a neighboring town for the night. Lord Arvis kept by her side since they left, close enough she could grab his sleeve, but while he hunted down dinner, she caught sight of the cat in the alley, darn near taunting her. After their ordeal in the cave, she knew better than to just disappear. "I will be right back, Lord Arvis," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. He looked at her, handsome face unreadable, but did not stop her.

She went. The day was bright, no one was around, and there were stalls in the alley to use as an excuse. The cat stared expectantly at her, tail swishing behind it. Cats roamed Askr; they did not have one, yet looking at it, something felt familiar, something flickering in her mind.

Crouching, she held her hand out for the cat. It took a few silent steps forward, eying her curiously. Good, good. Falling right into her trap…it sniffed her palm, and, seemingly, it liked her, rubbing its whole head against her hand. Her chest tightened, brushing her thumb across its fluffy cheek.

"Oh, I like you," she said quietly, knowing there was no room for a cat in their life.

It meowed at her. She would not be moved. "What is it like, to be a cat?" she asked. "It must be a simple life. My time in the Order has gotten simpler over the years, but I still have my duties." Easy duties, sent on these long trips to far flung corners of Zenith on official business that usually ended with her and her husband doing grueling tasks like eating good food or rummaging for precious stones. The cat meowed again, deep in thought.

…maybe they could get a cat, or share one with Julia.

WHEAT FROM CHAFF

The cat followed them to the inn.

Followed was too loose a word. It did as it pleased, before joining back at her calves, rubbing its head against her appreciatively. Her husband, again, had little to say. Frequently when they went on these missions, they found trouble — he was not weak, he promised her, far from it, but in this world he was. She had nothing to compare him to and loved him all the same.

Yanked out of her thoughts by the cat leaping up and tearing off her golden tassels, she watched the creature disappear into the wheat field they walked alongside. It was hers! Part of her dress, and it could not have it, tricky thing!

Deirdre gave chase. She darted into the field, which the cat blended in well to. Damn - darn it! It was the last time she trusted a cat. The space between the stalks were wide enough for her to walk down with a slight tilt to her hips, hidden by them as they went over her head, bumping her hat. She took it off to not lose it, grasped in her hands.

"Deirdre?"

It ran across her sight, ducking between rows. Doubling down, she went for it, end of her dress trailing the ground. She'd fix it later when she had all the pieces back.

"Deirdre, where are you?"

The cat was teasing her now, almost in her grasp. She needed her belt! It was very important to her look.

"Deirdre!"

She stumbled over a misplaced rock. Right. Her husband. The husband she was tired of misplacing. Cursing out the cat, she took in her surroundings, realizing she was lost. "I hear you!" she promised. The darn cat appeared again, dragging her belt on the ground. Much gentler this time, she followed after it, and for once, something went good — the cat led her out of the field.

Lord Arvis stared at her as if she sprouted a second head, while the cat dropped her belt at his feet and disappeared down the road. "I'm sorry!" she said. He quickly picked it up for her. "It took my belt!"

"You could have-"

Reaching up with one hand, she brushed stray wheat of her hair. "I know! I should have said something." His eyes left her second head, looking at all the other pieces of her. Alone, after all, and who better to look at her? He was impossible to read as ever. "Like now. I am telling you now that I am going back into the field."

He laughed, eyes snapping up to hers. "You are not."

"Come stop me." For a moment, his mouth parted, before he preemptively shut up potential yammering. She stepped back, her heels meeting the field. "I will not be far, Lord Arvis…"

"Do not make me seek my own wife-"

"I cannot make you do a thing."

"Stop cutting me off." She grinned, brushing the stalks aside. For his complaining, there was a small smile starting to form on his face. "Deirdre."

"Who is around?" she teased. "No one will see you giving in to me. We may speak in the field."

SEASON'S FIRST SNOW

The weather was impossible to predict.

In their small room in the small inn beside the wheat fields, she woke cold despite being in her husband's arms (not that he had far to go). She sat up, nudging the curtains aside.

Everything was white. Gone was the soft golden sky, replaced by grays and whites. Snow dusted the ground, swept up against the side of the house, obscuring the wheat.

Snow.

Deirdre did not know if snowed in her own world — it likely did — but snow was steady and constant during Askran winters. They were further south then they had been before, yet yesterday's weather was mild. She sat back down, shaking Arvis awake by the shoulder. "It snowed," she said, watching his eyes slowly open, not quite settled on her face. Leaning down, she kissed his nose.

"It…it snows every winter, dear." He pushed gently at her, making space.

"And? I still like to see it with you." He said nothing, covering his eyes with his arm. "Well, I will be outside. Come join me if you like."

He relented, as he often did. She was chilly, only in her cloak and dress as she'd not expected the weather to turn like this. Standing close to him kept her warm, but her mind went to what other possible nonsense she could talk him into on this trip. Playing hide-and-seek in the wheat fields pushed it.

But, if there was one thing he enjoyed, it was explaining things to her.

"Lord Arvis," she started, hand tucked in his arm, "what do we do in our world when it snows?"

"What are you angling for?"

Goodness! Was she that obvious? "We should make a little man out of snow."

"No." She laid her cheek on his arm.

"I wish you were fun!"

"Shush."

Deirdre slid her hand down his arm and into his. "I am teasing you, husband."

Her boots crunched in the snow, leading him forward one step. The fluffy kind, she did not slip. "I know. I do not have to think you are funny." She took his other hand, stepping away from the front of the inn and its fields. They'd be leaving for Askr tomorrow morning, and who knew if it snowed there? "We are not playing in the snow," he said, trying to be a stern husband again.

He hadn't been firm in ages, a strong man so easily bent to her whims. It tickled her. "I did not say we were! We are just outside together. We can, though…"

"No."

She smiled, and she decided it was the cold making his cheeks red. "I'll catch you if you slip." The snow wasn't slippery, but it was the thought.

"I fail to see how I would trip making a snowman." Deirdre gave a yank on his hands, but he was too sturdy to be jerked around like that. "Now, if you were to fall…" and, to give her a taste of her own medicine, he tugged on her. She stumbled, of course, but he did not let her fall very far.

"I don't think we should get my hair wet," she said.

He smiled, rare enough, so Deirdre quieted her own heart, standing up on her toes to give him a kiss. They were alone, after all, behind a random inn in a random world, with only snow and wheat for company. Lord Arvis gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "In our world, Deirdre, you are enamored with your first snow, dragging me out to the gardens to see it." Well, that sounded reasonable. History told her kisses did not always get him to tell her what she wanted, but it occasionally softened his heart. "And, horrifyingly enough, you threw snow at me."

"I'm impressed you survived such a vicious attack." Throwing snow sounded viable, and before he could correct her, she freed her hands of his, diving to scoop up a handful.