A/N - Happy Valentines day all! Here is my present...!
Valentide
She has never heard of this particular holiday before, not until she meets Balthier. He calls it Valentides, or something similar, a tradition which supposedly began in Old Valendian times, yet her sisters of the Wood knew naught of it.
This is a gift giving day of flowers and chocolates, and oversized moogle plushies. Or at the very least, these are the things which are delivered at various times during the day and appear collectively in Balthier's study. Fran intercepted one such delivery which contained not only a candy heart, but also a rather saucy poem.
Yes, the hume she travels with has something of a reputation.
Fran admits that, although young, this one has pleasing attributes that females would find attractive, and a certain, aristocratic air that gives the impression of maturity. If that were all, then she would not find herself so irritated by the gifts and the love notes, but there is much more to Balthier and she is very irritated indeed.
"Another delivery," she says, all but throwing the box onto the desk. She and Balthier both wince at the sharp crack of breaking glass it makes on landing.
"Easy there Fran," he says, raising an eyebrow.
"How is it," Fran ventures, "that you are so easily found on this day?"
"I take it you are referencing the rather considerable bounty on my head?" Balthier responds nonchalantly.
Fran gives him a look, which others will describe as expressionless, but only Balthier can successfully interpret as withering.
"Oh Fran! Isn't this fun?" he exclaims, stretching his arm out to her. Said viera makes a disgusted noise.
"Your vanity risks the ship, Nono and myself," she points out, leaning against the doorframe.
"Every day of our lives is a risk," Balthier replies. He sounds distracted, counting out his gifts most likely.
Fran feels her ire raised. "You do not think to screen these packages?"
"Oh, Nono takes care of it," he says, shrugging in a distinctly non-aristocratic way.
"Such a foolish hume you are!" Fran all but hisses. She storms from the room, each click of her heel a testament to her anger.
Suddenly, the ship feels too small for the both of them, so cloying and close-quartered. She climbs to the skydeck, relishing the feeling of open air around her, but this too is short-lived. Someone has set it up with a table, chairs and flowers. Evidently a certain sky pirate had plans to 'woo' a lady friend this evening, one of his precious Valentides. She resists the urge to kick the table down and retreats to her cabin.
She does not notice the box at first, so intent is she on finding a bag in which to pack all of her things. It is small, wrapped in gold paper and rests on top of a folded note. Curious, she gives the gift an experimental prod and unfolds the note.
Dear Fran, my leading lady,
Won't you join me for dinner on the skydeck this evening? Nono is cooking up a storm in the kitchen, so we can only hope that he uses cooking oil and not the engine variety [in exchange for my Valentides gifts, he had better]. Well, that is not strictly the truth, I am keeping yours. Thank-you for the chocolates, though you must have had quite a time making them in the shape of the Strahl!
Come any time, and I will be waiting,
Balthier
The bag remains empty on the floor, and Fran's possessions unpacked. Instead of out the door and out of the leading man's story, she once again climbs the stairs to the skydeck. She isn't even sure whether she would have left in the first place, for there is something magnetic about this hume which always prevents her. Some sort of sweetness kept just for her beneath the veneer of charming, reckless, uncaring pirate.
For Valentides day, Balthier has given her a ring.