The warm late afternoon breeze brings with it the sweet smell of olives and freshly-cut grass. The harvest season in Cortondo makes for good work, even if not a particularly lucrative one, and he cannot complain too much about the hand that feeds him, nor say that it is too uninteresting to learn about the slight complexities of local oil production. He has fallen over the cusp of adulthood with nothing to his name, he is fairly glad to have been able to manage at least this much for himself and the future he wants to have.
The weather and working in the open air are good for someone as manic and anxious such as Arven. If he had any choice, he would lock himself in a room somewhere to act out his obsessions, and he can recognize this is no good for his health. In contrast, the soft downhill breeze is gentle, calming against his skin as he picks the most suitable olives for the mill's discount oil.
There is something poetic about it, in his head, this careful choice towards a manifestly inferior product. Cheap oil might not be as glamorous or sought-after like the premium brands the landlord sells to world-famous restaurants in Kalos, but it can still bring joy to people and it is a perfectly good use of damaged olives that would otherwise rot in the fields. He feels a sense of comradery, of mutual identity, with those poor, weather-beaten fruits.
Arven sighs tiredly and looks up at the clear skies. It must be a quarter to four, if his time-telling from the position of the sun has gotten any better these last few months. He has been certainly enjoying doing this for the closing season, but it does not mean he has no wishes or desires to improve his station or working conditions, especially when it pertains to company.
He could stand to make more money, yes, and it is not what he pictured himself doing at this age when he was younger, but what he dislikes the most about his harvesting gig was how it made difficult to meet his girlfriend as much as he is used to, not to mention as much as he would like. He wakes up much too early, before the sun has risen, and almost immediately falls asleep upon arriving home, and while the exhaustion feels good for his anxiety, he does miss his quiet, alone time with a certain someone, who seems just as busy this Summer.
No more dinners. No more dates. Just rushed greetings and back-and-forth texting.
Suddenly, as if Juliana heard his heart wishing for her to be here with him, he hears her voice call his name through the orchard and, not a moment later, her lovely figure comes into his view.
She always makes his heart beat irregularly inside his chest. The way in which she chose him out of everyone in all of Paldea, not that she was in any way lacking in options, but something about seeing her in one of his work overalls makes his chest feel like it could explode into a million Volcarona. It is a blessing in his life, and it has been so ever since he first set his eyes on her at his father's lighthouse. She mentioned over text before he stopped for lunch that she would be stopping by to help out with the harvest as soon as she could extricate herself away from League business, and here she is, after a quick pit stop at his locker for a fresh change of clothes.
Sap and olive juice could stain cloth, so most workers had at least an apron on while working on the trees. Arven himself donned the full uniform, for the convenience the many pockets allowed him to carry all his gardening tools with ease of reach, and Juliana seems to have followed his lead on that, but they were a few sizes too big even for himself. They certainly did not fit her all that well, but she still looked as breathtaking as always.
She wore a black tank top and the grey fabric of the overall hanging from her shoulders doing a bad job in covering her. It doubles as wide pantaloons that she is positively swimming inside, large as they were. In her movements, along with the help of a little gust of wind, makes her sleeves flow and his eyes are drawn to the soft skin of her collarbone being exposed, little purple marks, tokens of his affection that he found himself lost in last night, adorning her skin. It makes his chest swell with pride, a little embarrassment, but most of all love.
"Hello, my love." He greets her and his cheeks feel warm at the way her eyes light up at the sweet pet name he often calls her.
He removes his hands from the thicket of the olive tree and skilfully takes off his gloves, exposing his calloused hands and the scars that litter them. Taking the last few steps towards her, her fingers spread out against his chest, making his skin tingle, and he cups her face.
With a gentle touch he pulls her sleeves, his overalls, back over the marks he had left on her, giving them one last glance before they are hidden from view once again.
"Is everything alright? You're a bit early." He asks, softly.
Always the worrier, this one, but Juliana felt so special with how much he cared for her.
She nods in reply and smiles sweetly. "Yeah, it's alright. Things up at the city were so boring and I just couldn't wait to come down here. I missed you too much."
Arven chuckles and she swears her legs threaten to give way at the melodic sound. He has hardly left the vicinity of their home and it had not been long since Juliana saw him last and yet, he feels the same.
"I missed you, too."
