"What in God's name is that?"
Freya turned her head obliviously and innocently towards Amarant, who was regarding her with some amused contempt. A spoon hung out of her mouth, and she had taken of her hat, leaving her silver hair to cascade in soft locks over her head.
The middle sentry duty was always the worst, and somehow, it always felt like it was always Freya who got it. For some reason, this night, Amarant had deigned to join her. Freya had been surprised at the offer, but company was never turned away. It was a cold desert night, the soft glow of the Iifa Tree but a blob in the distance, and Freya was tucked warmly beside the fire. The air was arid, and the only creatures that could stand the heat were lizards, and even they had scuttled off to find a better home. Amarant kept to the shadows, the firelight reflecting off his claws which he had laid down beside him.
"What's what?"
Amarant was pointing towards her tail, and so the confused Burmecian swept it around her and examined it with a worried look on her grey face.
"I don't understand...?"
"That scraggly piece of crap you've got tied around it, Crescent, that's 'what's what'."
Freya smiled a little. 'Oh' she thought, 'that'. She fondled the stained, fraying piece of yellow material with tenderness and care, and the man watching her raised a red eyebrow in bemusement, before sidling closer towards her to garner a better view. She firelight created a warm curve on half of his face, one russet eye lighting up as he leaned in closely to her to see it. She gently untied it, smoothing out the creases between two fingers, before she handed it carefully to Amarant, who grabbed it easily and swiftly from her outstretched hand.
"Careful with it Coral," she warned him.
"... It's just a ribbon. It's a grubby, ripped up, kinda gross ribbon."
Freya huffed and turned away from the fire to face him. He was examining the yellow ribbon with a scowl, dangling it before his eyes. Darting out a quick hand, Freya relinquished her treasured possession, and held it close to her, glaring daggers at the confused man.
"It's not just a ribbon, Amarant. It's a memory. Fratley gave to me."
"Fuck me, I'm sorry I asked."
"Oh shush. And don't swear."
She sighed and turned back to the fire, curling her legs closer towards her and wrapping her tail about her ankle. Her eyes were dancing in the firelight, but there was no liveliness about her person. Amarant sighed and leaned back, staring up into the sky. He almost jumped when Freya asked meekly:
"Don't you have anything like that?"
"Like what?"
"A token... a reminder."
"Of someone's love? Fuck that."
"Oh yes," Freya shot back defensively, "I forgot about that. You don't need anyone; you're the Flaming Amarant! Forgive my ignorance!"
"You know, you can be a really snappy bitch."
"And you can be an arrogant bastard, but that's just splitting hairs."
Amarant glared at her, meeting her eyes and frowning sternly. The proud Burmecian stared glibly back, her head tilted upwards confidently, hands balled in annoyance. Suddenly, Amarant leaned onto one of his arms and he made to leave, picking up his claws with a swipe of his hand and walking back to his tent, but Freya called out:
"Amarant!"
The man stopped in the shadows, but he didn't turn round. With a slight inclination of his head, he raised an eyebrow questioningly before asking gruffly:
"What?"
"Come back. I'm sorry, you just hit a sore spot."
"You seem to have a lot of those, Princess."
Despite the sarcastic tone with which he said it, Amarant still turned back to her with a ghost of a smile on his unreadable face. Freya grinned a little at him; they weren't unused to having arguments. Their friendship seemed to thrive on it. No one else would oblige her in a good old battle of wits, and Amarant just seemed to love getting under her skin.
"So come on the Rat. Why?"
" 'Why?' "
"Pratley-"
"Fratley!"
"Whatever, Fratley, as far as I can tell, he's forgotten you, right?"
"It's refreshing when people just say it how it is."
"Some one's got to. You're a grown woman; you can't be mollycoddled over this all your life."
"No. You're right, naturally," remarked Freya with a hint of dry wit.
"Of course I am. But that's not the point."
"What is the point, Amarant?"
"Why? Why do you still carry this piece of crap about with you as if he was still there to go home to?"
Freya sighed and pawed at her hair absently, curling a moonlight streaked lock around her finger. Amarant waited with a surprising amount of patience. His russet eyes flickered in the firelight, autumn leaves dancing in his irises. Finally, Freya stirred with a little shiver, and she looked at Amarant with a lazy sweep of her head and replied belatedly:
"Because I need something to rely on."
"Or someone?"
"Maybe. But this ribbon… It's tangible. I can touch it and feel it and know that it's there."
Amarant gave a bark of laughter, one which Freya had no doubt awaked the next person on watch. She put her little hands on her hips and narrowed her emerald eyes at him. He shook his head and looked at her incredulously, commenting curiously:
"You really need something like that to make you happy?"
"Yes! Call it a lucky charm, or a talisman or a token, but I need it!"
Chuckling with mirth, Amarant began to fish around in his pockets, before he shook his head and returned to his tent, where he found his bag and rummaged around inside it. She could hear the clink of bottles and soft rustlings of material inside the roughly made hessian sack, and eventually he produced something and curled it tightly within his hand, obscuring it from Freya's curious view.
"What's that Amarant?"
"Found it in the Black Mage Village and decided to hang onto it."
Unfurling his large hand, he slowly unveiled something which made Freya smile. Dangling between two ungentle fingers, blowing softly in the warm desert wind, he held a ribbon. It was a wine red, silk soft ribbon.
He took Freya's tail and removed the old orange ribbon. Freya began to protest quietly, but she bit her lips and waited to watch. He laid it down on the floor beside her, and he tied the red ribbon around her tail in it's stead.
"There's you go Crescent. You've got something tangible, something you can touch and feel and know that it's there. And you can let go of that amnesiac bastard."
Freya glanced at the orange ribbon laying in the tan dust of the desert, and after a moments consideration, she grinned. She picked it up and slipped it in her pocket, before looking once more at Amarant. He grinned at her, before awkwardly and unsuccessfully trying to sweep some of his red hair from his face, and he stood up and looked down at her, towering over the Burmecian as usual, and said gruffly:
"Good night Princess. Sweet fucking dreams."
And he returned to his tent, swiftly and confidently. Freya let her eyes slide towards the ribbon now tied around her tail and she smiled.
"Sweet dreams. Arrogant bastard."