Somber Abyss
"Blgrrr," Healer winced to herself, feeling her joints protest against the strain of spying behind a low bush. Maker had gone the more sensible way ("The easy way," Healer muttered), leaning against one of the taller trees, the wide trunk concealing her slim and long limbs from sight. Fighter was having nothing of it and sulked behind a decorative rock.
"You can take a rest," Maker suggested, watching Healer bounce on the heels of her feet, "It's not like those two are going anywhere."
"Because he's such a coward," Healer muttered before admitting defeat and settling herself at the base of the trunk near Maker's feet. Fighter made a meager sound in response.
"Oh come off it, Fighter," Healer protested, nudging her leader with the toe of her vinyl boot, "He's well suited for her."
Maker nodded, "He is the best match for our Princess."
"Best isn't good enough," Fighter sniffled, turning away from her teammates.
"Though at this rate they probably won't start," Maker observed, peering around the side of the trunk at her princess adorned in reds and the prince trying his best to be appealing.
"Tch, don't say that!" Healer quietly screeched, "I coached him ruthlessly!"
"You did what?" Fighter bolted upright and scurried to Healer's side, jabbing a black gloved finger into the silver haired soldier's face, "TRAITOR."
Healer swatted the finger away, "Don't be like that." Fighter stuck out her bottom lip. Healer rolled her eyes. Fighter crossed her arms. Maker sighed and sat down beside the two.
"We have our duty and we have each other," Maker whispered, rubbing Fighter's back, "What more could we ask for?"
In the distance the sound of happiness blossomed on the meadowed ground; Fighter turned her head to meet the gaze of her friends and echoed, "What more?"