A/N: Mentions of death, blood and war.

I might have come up with a new headcanon about Griffin that is the extension of an older headcanon. I'd love to hear what you think about it because I am still a bit on the fence about it myself. Let me know! ;)

Marion made sure to make her steps as loud as she could as she approached Griffin who was sitting on a bench in the garden since the witch appreciated the heads-up. Even if she always had her guard up. Letting her know you were there as soon as possible was a simple courtesy even if she rarely got surprised.

She still tensed when she heard Marion's steps. Not quite a startle but it was just her will keeping her from jumping as she almost looked like she would blush. Something was definitely up since Griffin never blushed. She didn't quite respond with shame to being caught red-handed when guilt was the more prevalent reaction and Marion was quite certain she would never witness her blush in a romantic context. Not before the war was done and forgotten at the very least, and she wasn't sure there would be forgetting for any of them.

"Do you want to tell me what you're writing?" Marion asked as she let her gaze drop to the notebook in Griffin's hands when she was a safe distance away still and couldn't read it. She was sure Griffin would appreciate the concern for her privacy since she wouldn't have been clutching so hard at the paper as if it was the only thing standing as a barrier between her and fidgeting if she'd been drafting war plans.

"Not quite," Griffin said and for a moment it looked like she wouldn't offer more but she continued. "It's just something..." she debated with herself whether to phrase it the way she instinctively would or the way Marion wouldn't feel the need to object to her self-deprecation, "something that I shouldn't be doing," she settled on a mix of both in the end and Marion knew that was the best she could hope for.

"You would know that best," Marion said since she didn't want to argue. It was a warm, sunny day in spring and one of the few ones that didn't feel like they would end up in a discussion about casualties and bloodshed. She wanted them both to enjoy it, enjoy the sun shining on them to make them grow as if they were flowers. They didn't get many of those.

"Now you're just not playing fair," Griffin said but the mirth she was forcing into her voice couldn't quite fool her face into stretching into a smile like she wanted it to.

Marion preferred it that way when there was nothing playful in the doubt that had taken over her friend. She just hoped Griffin was seeing that as well and that she planned to do something about it. She couldn't keep going on like that. Marion could barely stand to watch it. She didn't even want to think about how it all felt to Griffin.

"I'm not trying to manipulate you, Griffin," Marion said as she sat down next to her. She knew that Griffin knew that but it was still good to say it after all the time Griffin had spent with the Ancestral Witches and their mind games. And it was good to know that Griffin believed her.

Griffin seemed to pull away but she was just making space for Marion on the bench. Even if there was no need for that as there was plenty left for her to sit down. She seemed like she needed to accommodate to the fact that she was accepting Marion's company now without need for doubts in ether one of them. It was refreshing after the rough start that friendship had had when they'd both been mindful of the other.

Marion waited for her to find her comfort again and look at her before she continued. "I trust your judgment," she said, eyes locked with Griffin's to show her that she truly meant it. Except in cases when it came down to Griffin's own perception of herself as that was too distorted by the guilt she had thriving in her blood soaked mind and any objectivity on the matter had long perished in the flood of self-hate her heart was overwhelming her veins with.

"Well, that makes one of us," Griffin said, unusually open when it came to the mess in her own head. Maybe because Marion had just convinced her that she didn't have to try her best to earn her trust every time anything depended on her. Or maybe it was just the distance from the war that the day offered. In any case, it was still good to see. "I might just start seeking your opinion," Griffin said, far more probing than she needed to be after they'd gotten past their misconceptions about each other and had had each other's backs on missions, laying their lives in the hands of the other.

"I'm right here," Marion said, aware that reaching for Griffin's hand would provide tangible support of her words but she wasn't sure that Griffin needed more invasiveness when it came to what she was currently clutching at like her life depended on it.

"Before I signed up for Cloud Tower, I tried my hand at writing poetry a few times," Griffin wasn't looking at her but Marion couldn't panic over that when she knew Griffin wouldn't have even thought of sharing if she didn't feel comfortable with it. "Before I became too busy being a witch." Griffin said and there wasn't even the usual halfhearted, humorless chuckle that she liked to emphasize the darkness of her tone with as if she was trying to scare away anyone that might feel compassion for her.

Marion was struck by the bitterness in the words when Griffin was always so unapologetic about who she was, especially when it came to the nature of her magic. It seemed that her regrets had spread to every part of her being to taint the entirety of her existence and just the thought seemed too much to bear but Marion couldn't complain when Griffin was the one who had to live with it and refused to let them help her with her burden.

"I thought I could give it a shot again," Griffin said quietly, her voice almost trying to hide into a whisper when the blush threatened to paint her face in red revealing there was something else left in her life besides the war. As if it would be a crime unless she kept it to herself. "Just... live. Without thinking about what I'm supposed and not supposed to be," Griffin looked like she wasn't on the bench anymore and Marion could only guess whether that had anything to do with her mother's death that was still fresh in the witch's mind or with any of the crimes Griffin had committed herself.

"Do you want to show me what you have so far?" she asked to bring her back to the matter at hand when she was pretty sure that wherever Griffin's mind was at the moment was not a good place. The poetry was probably the way to get through it, though Marion wasn't sure whether that was done via escaping the reality or diving right into it. It didn't matter as long as it could get Griffin at a better place.

"I don't think so," Griffin said as she shook her head slightly but it was more apologetic rather than her being on the offense like she'd been every time Marion–or anyone else–had tried to approach her when she'd first joined the Company. "It's not even good enough for my own eyes yet," she said as she looked down at the paper and clutched harder at it as if trying to make sure it wouldn't spill its imperfections all over the ground like a deadly wounded body dripping blood.

"I think you might need to reorganize the levels of your assessment system," Marion said as she tried to keep it lighthearted. It wasn't easy even when she knew Griffin's discomfort was coming from her own expectations about herself. It wasn't easy exactly because of that. She almost found herself wishing that Griffin's problem would be with her instead if that would leave her with a more positive image of herself. "I'm sure your own approval is the highest grade you'll need to strive for," Marion said and was relieved to see the smirk climbing–with a bit of a strain–on Griffin's lips when her words had reached the witch.

"Point taken," Griffin said as she released her work from the death grip she'd been trying to suffocate it in and she seemed to breathe more easily herself now that her muscles were relaxed. "I still think I'll hold on to it a little longer, though," she said. "At least until I can complete it." Her fingers were trailing over the sheets almost playfully now. Affectionately.

Marion couldn't help the thought that she would love to get used to that sight. Maybe she wouldn't have to keep it away if Griffin could find it in herself to stop smothering her own life. Marion could only hope. For both their sake.

"What inspired you?" Marion asked, hoping that her interest wouldn't put Griffin off and would just feed her enthusiasm as well. She'd rarely found support for her own passions before she'd met Oritel and Hagen and she couldn't stand the thought of someone else's creativity dying out at the lack of encouragement. And seeing Griffin revel in the beauty she'd created was bound to ignite her faith that they could not only survive the war but get their lives back once all the monsters were gone.

"All this beauty," Griffin gestured around to the blossoms adorning the trees to make them a painting only nature could create but her eyes were on Marion and on the friendship that was quietly but persistently thriving between them in the understanding they'd uncovered in each other.

Marion let the smile bloom on her face when the happiness on Griffin's was more enticing than the sight of nature reawakening to the call of life around them.