~ Lovebirds ~
(Scarlet Macaw)
There is always a bit of chaos in the first few days of training when the fresh meat comes in. Every year, without fail, at least one soulmate pair will find each other on the training field, or in the barracks, or - Wall Goddesses forbid - in the showers. These events are always a pain for Keith, and not just because it means he has to give 'the talk' to a pair of blushing twelve-year-olds. The affected trainees' quarters, training regiments, uniforms, and maneuver gear all have to be reassigned whenever a soulmate pair find each other.
The maneuver gear was originally designed for humans without wings, but alternatives had been developed that would allow winged soldiers to also use it. For those whose wings are too small to allow flight, there is an alternate upper-body harness which would allow them to use the gear without risk of injuring their wings. For those who are capable of flight, there is an entirely different set of gear.
It comes as no surprise that several soulmate pairs find each other on the first day of training every year, and several more in the subsequent week. There are protocols in place for the newly-discovered soulmate pairs to be moved to the 'winged' side of the training camp as quickly and smoothly as possible. Unless they specifically request to be placed in the communal barracks for winged persons, soulmates are quartered together in a private room. In the eyes of the law, the soulmate bond is considered a form of marriage. In fact, it is considered a higher form that trumps traditional marriages - which effectively means that if someone who is married to a person who is not their soulmate does find their soulmate, the previous marriage will be rendered null and void by the soulmate bond.
With a sound that is oddly reminiscent of a fart, the wings tear through the back of Keith's coat.
There is a moment of dead silence, followed by an uproar of laughter. He doesn't know if the trainees are laughing because the girl he was just yelling at has turned out to be his soulmate, or because the recruits are a bunch of immature twelve-year-olds that still laugh at anything that sounds like flatulence, or because their wings look fucking stupid. The backs of the wings are a trio of bright, clownish colors - red, yellow, blue - while the undersides are fully red.
Keith doesn't know what to do. There is no precedent for this particular situation, and therefore no protocol exists for dealing with it.
So he stands there staring like a dumbass at the little food-thief who is apparently his soulmate, until one of the Military Police officers who is responsible for escorting soulmate pairs to the other training ground takes pity on him and comes over to drag him off out of the crowd.
"You come too," the MP says.
A moment later Keith feels a tug on his sleeve and looks down to see his soulmate walking beside him, clinging to his arm with one hand. She notices him looking at her and smiles up at him.
"It's Sasha," she says suddenly.
"What...?" he replies, nonplussed.
"My name," she says. "You asked before-" She makes a flapping gesture with her free hand which he assumes is supposed to mean their wings appearing. "-and I didn't answer."
She seems to just automatically trust him, because that's what soulmates are supposed to do. She is so open and unguarded with him that it brings out every protective male instinct that he'd never before realized he possesses.
Normally when an experienced member of the military finds their soulmate (usually either a civilian or an experienced soldier themself), they are given a crash-course in using the alternate gear and sent right back out into the field, but since his soulmate is a new recruit, he is offered the option of going through the entire three years of training with her so that they won't have to be separated.
"We can stay together!" Sasha squeals, beaming up at him, upon receiving this news. And just like that, his decision is made.
The rest of the day is spent getting settled: being fitted for new uniforms, trading in their old 3DMG for the alternate 'flight-capable winged person' maneuver gear, moving their possessions into their new quarters, and even a trip into the nearby civilian town to replace the casual clothing that they will no longer be able to wear due their wings. Sasha spends a majority of this time clinging to Keith's arm, and on the rare occasions that she does let go, he finds himself reaching out to take her hand and draw her back to his side.
He doesn't know what he's doing. He has been in love before, but this... this protective feeling, this anxiety over his soulmate's safety and well-being is completely new to him.
The second time she pulls away from him in the middle of the crowded marketplace, he scowls down at her as he admonishes, "Don't wander off. What if you get lost?"
"I'm sorry," Sasha says, sounding guilty. Her saddened expression makes his heart clench.
"It's... alright," he says, slow and uncertain. "Just stay... with me."
Are those the right words in this situation? He doesn't even know how to begin trying to reassure someone. It's kind of pathetic...
He ruffles her hair with his free hand and she perks up.
"What were you so excited to see, anyway?" he asks.
"Oh! They're selling sewing kits over there. I was thinking that if I had one, I could alter our old clothes so that we could still wear them. It would be a shame to just get rid of them, after all..."
Their Military Police escort grumbles as another package is added to the pile in his arms, "Stupid superiors, telling me this assignment would be 'pretty much just a chance to stand around and slack off'. The lying jerks."
It's been a long day and they've finally reached the end of it. Keith gratefully collapses onto his bed, facedown, wings tightly folded against his back. He starts to drift off almost immediately, but a racket from the other side of the room snaps him out of his near-slumber.
Feathers rustle, boards creak, limbs thump against the wall or floor...
"How am I supposed to sleep?" Sasha wails.
"Fold your wings. Lie on your side or your stomach," he mumbles into his pillow.
"I can't sleep with them folded!" she protests.
"Then sleep with them open..."
"The bed's too narrow! I'm gonna fall off!"
It is a testament to how upset she is that she allows her accent to slip a bit.
Keith sighs and shifts onto his side.
"Come here," he says.
She comes over, hesitating for only a moment before climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around her waist, careful to leave a few inches of space between their bodies.
"There," he says tiredly. "I won't let you fall off. Now go to sleep."
He feels a slight tug on the front of his nightshirt as her fingers clutch the fabric, but other than that she doesn't move to close the small distance between them.
The darkness hides her happy grin from him, but he can practically hear it in her voice as she whispers, "Goodnight."
~oOo~