Library - Afternoon - Cloudy
Mercer von Riegan
Mercer ran a hand through his hair, giving it a light shake as he sighed heavily. He already had the necessary qualifications in his bow training that he didn't need to take the certifications for that. It was mostly the flying certifications he needed to work on, and the help. It was why he invited Sorcha to join him in the library to study with him since she was taking the exams to be a pegasus knight. He figured having a study partner would be easier, and they could help each other with whatever stumped them. He had some experience in riding, but not so much flying. He'd never seen the reason to, but he had gained something of an interest after reading about wyvern riders.
Plus, it would make getting around easier, and the distance between him and foe would prove to be in his advantage with the use of his bow. Granted, he'd use a sword if he had to, or rather the longsword, but he preferred attacking from a distance. That's just how they were in the Leicester Alliance, always attacking from a distance, but hardly up close. It was no wonder that some people considered them cowards, in that sense, but Mercer knew some of the bravest people in the Alliance. He rolled out his shoulders before slumping into his chair, and placing his head against the desk.
“I really don't feel like studying right now," he murmured, keeping his head on the desk as he waited for Sorcha.
“So let's practice instead." She spoke from behind him, coming to a stop at the table he was half-laying on, leaning her hip against it and crossing her arms over her chest. She was dressed a little differently today, in a version of the Academy uniform with fitted trousers and tall boots to her thighs, instead of the skirt and leggings she usually went with. He could recognize pegasus-riding gear when he saw it, and the odd glove she wore on her right hand was obviously an archer's, as was the wrist guard over her left sleeve. She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowed with something that looked very much like mischief glimmering in the clear blue of them.
“I got the professor to write us a note of permission to take Lady and Sir out for some exercise." She cocked one blonde eyebrow at him. “Unless you're not so sure of your aim from the air, Lord 'I-don't-even-have-to-look-at-my-target.'"
He tilted his head from the spot on the table to regard her with a quirked brow. “Is that a challenge I hear? Because it sounds like a challenge to me," he stated, his cheek still resting on the table as he stared at her. He'd give her credit for her moxie, though. “And my aim is just as good in the air as it is on the ground, so it won't be much of a challenge," he stated, finally straightening his posture out. She did have a point, though. Practicing would be a lot easier to do than just reading, so he stood from his spot and glanced at her.
“Should we make it another competition, though, on who can hit the most targets in the air?" he asked, leaning just a little closer to her face. She did, after all, tell him to try harder if he wanted that kiss.
She furrowed her brows at him, the slightest pinkness rising to the surface of her skin, probably from his proximity, but to her credit she held it together a lot better than the last time, keeping her posture straight and staring brazenly right back into his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't the only one to sense a challenge in the making here. “Fine by me," she replied bluntly. “If I win, you're telling me how we met."
Lifting her chin just a bit, as if to compensate for the scant difference in their height, she held his eyes a moment longer, as if to make sure it was clear that she was not retreating, then turned crisply on her heel and led the way out towards the barn.
Mercer felt the grin on his face shift into a smirk. That was an interesting development. He rather liked that about her, but he'd keep that to himself, for now. Instead, he merely trailed behind her, letting her take the lead until they reached the barn where Lady and Sir were kept. Without a word, he retrieved the halter from the tack room, and pushed open the stable door where Sir, was. The wyvern grunted softly, as it stood in its spot.
“Hey bud, ready to stretch your wings for a bit?" he stated, waiting until Sir walked over towards him. The wyvern, however, sniffed at him, and grunted softly. “Ah, you're looking for fish, aren't you? Couldn't sneak it today, but I promise I'll get you one after practice, alright? I'll even get your favorite, the albinean herring," he stated as the wyvern stretched its wings out. Mercer knew Sir was going to hold him to that, and he slipped the halter on the wyvern's head. Once they were out on the field, he waited for Sorcha and Lady before glancing in their direction.
“Alright, so the rules will be a bit different for this one. We'll be flying, after all. The first person to hit," he paused to tap a thoughtful finger to his chin, “ten targets, wins. But they can't just be any targets." There wouldn't be a challenge if that were the case.
“They have to be moving targets in the air," he stated. He knew, on the other side of the Monastery, they had set up ranges like that for the wyvern and pegasus riders. It wouldn't make sense to not have something like that, after all, or wyvern and pegasi for that matter. “What do you want if you win?" he asked, a grin crossing his face. It was highly unlikely that she would win, but he did not want to underestimate her, again. She had come a long way with her training, something he was quite proud of her for.
“The whole story," she said simply. “I feel like I know you, but I don't know why. From what you said the first time we trained together, you do. So I want to know what you know." Leaving her bow slung over her back, Sorcha hopped astride Lady's bare back like she'd been riding pegasi her whole life, giving him a little smirk. He doubted she was really underestimating him, either—snarky as she got sometimes, she didn't ever seem to think less of him in the way he made it so easy for other people to do.
“What do you want, this time? More chores?"
Mercer's smirk turned a bit dark as he felt his eyes narrow slightly. “I want that kiss," he simply stated, climbing onto Sir's back with ease. He turned Sir in the direction of the targets, and was off before he could hear or see Sorcha's response. He had an idea of what she was going to say, and the blush on her face would have only served to make him more determined to win that kiss, however; regardless of who won, he would still tell her. It was obvious enough to him that she wanted to know, and he wasn't going to keep it from her, any longer. Besides, if he were being honest with himself, he was kind of pissed that she'd forgotten him. He gave her his mother's jewel, after all! And that was valuable... or at least that's what his mother had said.
“Are you ready?" he asked, glancing towards Sorcha as he pulled his bow from his shoulder.
She was, indeed, crimson, but the look on her face was nearly murderous. “It wasn't funny the first time," she grumbled, shifting her own bow over her shoulder. It was nothing special, only one of the practice ones the Academy had. As he recalled, the only real archers in Faerghus were longbowmen, and they were really only part-timers, soldiers who manned the walls during sieges but really preferred to fight up close. They used strategies that relied on creating a rain of arrows too thick to avoid, not individual accuracy. Probably she'd never shot a particularly good one. “And it's not funny now. Blue targets are mine."
Drawing an arrow from her quiver, Sorcha controlled Lady's flight with her knees alone, expertly nudging the pegasus into a flyby motion. Though the target moved also, the combination seemed to induce no confusion or miscalculation in Sorcha; she let fly, and the arrow thudded home into the target. It was perfectly on center, but well within the acceptable bounds for a challenge like this.
She brought lady back around beside Sir, gesturing almost irritably with her bow for him to take the next shot.
Mercer, for once, put on a rather serious face. “I wasn't joking; if I win, I want that kiss," was his reply before he nudged Sir towards his targets. He'd take the red ones if hers were blue, and he fit an arrow to his bow. Glancing back to make sure she was watching, he let it fly. With a loud thunk, the arrow found its home dead center of his target, as it had before. Making his way back to Sorcha, he smirked at her, a clear challenge, if anything.
It was such that the next few targets were neck and neck. For every target he hit, she would also land one. It became a constant that, with their last two shots to make, Mercer had completely turned serious about it. He'd known she'd improved, but the depth of her improvement was more than he'd thought. He was forced to actually concentrate on his targets, to make sure that every hit was as perfect as he could get it. When they were down to their last target, Mercer cleared his mind and focused on his target, releasing the arrow and watched as his aim was true.
“Last one, Princess," he stated, motioning for her to take the field.
For her part, Sorcha had clearly been taking this every bit as seriously. Her shots were not perfect, but the ease with which she directed Lady and read the wind went a long way to making up for that. This time, she only nodded by way of acknowledgment, already sighting down the field to pick out her target. There was only one left, and she seemed to have been avoiding it so far, as it sat at an awkward angle in Lady's turn for her draw; if she wasn't careful, she could nick the pegasus's wing in trying to line it up.
Sliding another arrow free of her quiver, she nocked it to the string, holding tension but not drawing all the way back. A tiny half-smile turned her lips up at one corner, and then almost without warning Lady burst forward, turning more sharply at the awkward corner and actually rolling in the air. Sorcha shot at the moment in the arc when her wings were out of the way, and the arrow thudded into the target.
Just in time, because she had to grab the pegasus's mane not to fall off—and down. She laughed, a surprisingly light sound for having been at risk of serious injury. “That's what I get for not bothering with a saddle," she said, coming to rest at a hover next to Mercer and—it was there and gone in a moment, but it looked like she'd winked at him.
“That's ten. But I went first, so... I think by most rules that gives you one more to tie it up, right?"
Mercer shook his head, a strange smile coming to his face. It was lighter than he usually allowed them to be, and turned in Sorcha's direction. “At this point, it wouldn't matter. We both know I'd make the hit, and we'd end in a tie. I have to say, Sorcha," he stated, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner, “you really have improved. I'm really proud of you. It usually takes people years to achieve as much progress as you have." He was being honest; he truly was proud of the progress she made, and there was a strange little burst of pride knowing that he was the reason.
“I suppose that makes our deal, null, but," he stated, turning his attention fully to her, “I'll still honor my side of it. Think of it as... uh, a partial victory on your part and how much you've impressed me today."
For a moment, Sorcha appeared to consider this, but then she shook her head, regarding him with a strange seriousness that contrasted sharply with the amusement of the moment before. “Make the shot," she said quietly. “Nothing's inevitable until it's already done." It didn't sound like she doubted him or anything, but there was something oddly insistent about her anyway.
Mercer rolled his eyes, but huffed in good nature. “Fine, fine," he replied, nudging Sir in the direction of his last shot. Unlike her last one, his wasn't anything too flashy. It was simply waving at him, like it was taunting him somehow. Granted, the target itself was smaller than the other ones, which meant that if he didn't concentrate on it, he would likely miss it. It didn't help that it was moving at a somewhat rapid pace in a circular motion. Taking an arrow from his quiver, he notched it and pulled the string back. He took a deep breath, watching, waiting for the target to be where he wanted it to be, and let the arrow fly.
“Told you," he stated over his shoulder as the arrow made contact with the target. He nudged Sir back towards Sorcha, and grinned. “Satisfied?"
She gave that a moment's thought, too, but then nodded. “Yes. Thank you." It seemed she genuinely meant it, too. “Let's let these two have a break, shall we? It looks like we're clear to land in that field over there." The one she pointed to was just outside the town of Garreg Mach proper, which was fair enough since most of the larger training areas for cavalry and fliers had to be put there as well. It boasted a large number of vivid woldflowers, and one of the small creeks common to mountainside landscapes like this one.
“I'd like to hear the story, now."
“Let me get comfortable, first," he stated once they'd landed. He removed the halter from Sir's head, just so that it wouldn't bother him or impede him in any way, before he took a seat on the grass. Once he was satisfied, he laid back, propping his hands behind his head so he had a clear view of the sky. “You and I met when we were kids," he began, keeping his gaze to the sky. There were a lot of clouds today, but he didn't mind. It meant that he would be able to actually see without being blinded by how bright it could get.
“We were probably around five or six at the time, I can't remember exactly, but your father came to the Alliance on a visit. You'd accompanied him, and well... you wouldn't stop bugging me when we'd been introduced," he stated, pursing his lips together. She'd been so excited for some strange reason, and at the time, it had annoyed Mercer. He chanced a glance at her, and sighed.
“You followed me around everywhere."
This declaration was followed by the sound of the second halter landing softly on the ground. Sorcha took a moment to settle next to him, leaning back on her hands, legs stretched in front of her and crossed neatly at the ankles. A breeze stirred the wildflowers, carrying the scent along with it. A light one, vaguely lavender-like.
“I... don't remember much, from that part of my life," she admitted, quietly as if she were afraid of being overheard, out here where there was no one but the two of them, a pegasus, and a wyvern. “I used to think most children didn't, but when I talk with Sen, her memories of childhood are always so much clearer than mine. I don't even remember anything about my mother." She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Anyway... never mind that. I guess I bothered you? Sorry."
Mercer quirked a brow at that. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Sometimes that's just the way the mind works when it's been through a trauma. It blocks off certain memories, even the good ones, before the incident so that they aren't brought back up," he stated, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. He would imagine that after what she'd experienced in the Tragedy, her body's natural coping mechanism was to forget about it, and unfortunately her earlier memories, too.
“And nah, you weren't a bother really. It was kind of nice having someone follow me around. Kinda like I had a little sister. I didn't have any siblings, you see," he stated, turning his head to grin at her. “Do you still have that jewel I gave you?" he questioned, blinking slowly at her. “Mom was kind of pissed when I told her I lost it. I didn't tell her I gave it to you, though," because he had a feeling his mother would have likely skinned him for giving away such a valuable item. Apparently his father had given it to her, but he didn't really know the story behind that.
“Jewel?" she echoed, eyes snapping quickly down to his. They were wide with something like alarm, almost panic. It wasn't clear why, until she straightened enough to lift both her hands from the ground. For some reason, she undid the uniform button at her throat, and then the one just beneath before hooking a finger inside against her neck and giving a tug. At first, all that came up was a cord, but she kept pulling, and eventually a pendant came free, too.
It was roughly oval in shape, a brilliant, vitreous blue-green that caught the light and sparked. Rather than damage the stone, she appeared to have wound a delicate lattice of silver wire around it to hold it carefully while still allowing the color to show through. “You—are you telling me you're the one who gave me this?" The question was urgent, as though it was something of grave importance to her, somehow.
“Yep," he replied, popping the last letter as he grinned at her. “You ended up falling over something and it was the only thing I could think of to give you to make you stop crying," he stated shrugging his shoulders. “I'm glad you've taken care of it, though. Oh," he started, suddenly realizing something. “You can keep it, though. I, uh, already told my mom that I lost it so... it's not like I need it back or anything." He wanted her to know that she could keep it. It's not like it was that important to him.
To his mother, perhaps, but not him. “Besides, it looks really good with you. Brings out the blue in your eyes," he continued, giving her a lazy grin.
“I—" For a second Sorcha seemed like she wasn't sure how to respond to that. But then she huffed. “Well, I'd hope so. Crying or not, you did give it to me." She looked down at it, tracing her thumb along one of the silver threads and flushing. Probably at the compliment—it wasn't too difficult to fluster her, really.
But then she slipped the stone back under her shirt and turned towards him, narrowing her eyes at his face. “Well you've held up your end," she said. “And you did make your last shot, so." Without any further warning, she moved up onto one knee and threw her other leg over his waist, bracing her hands on either side of his head.
“If you tell anyone I did this I'm getting Senka to break me into your room again so I can poison you in your sleep." She let that sit for just a moment before leaning down, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his cheek. It was a chaste thing, entirely innocent, but she didn't do it like he was infectious, either, lingering long enough to exhale softly against the skin of his cheek.
“Thank you," she murmured, close enough to his ear that there was barely any sound and he could hear anyway. “I was a big crybaby so I probably didn't say it the first time. But... thanks for looking out for me, back then."
Mercer chuckled lightly. She really was adorable at times, and that thought alone was enough to bring him crashing back to reality. It wouldn't last. Nothing lasted. Something would happen, and then it would be gone. But for now... he supposed he could enjoy this one moment, where it was just him, her, a pegasus, and wyvern.
“You're welcome, Sorcha."
“It shall be our little secret."
Plus, it would make getting around easier, and the distance between him and foe would prove to be in his advantage with the use of his bow. Granted, he'd use a sword if he had to, or rather the longsword, but he preferred attacking from a distance. That's just how they were in the Leicester Alliance, always attacking from a distance, but hardly up close. It was no wonder that some people considered them cowards, in that sense, but Mercer knew some of the bravest people in the Alliance. He rolled out his shoulders before slumping into his chair, and placing his head against the desk.
“I really don't feel like studying right now," he murmured, keeping his head on the desk as he waited for Sorcha.
“So let's practice instead." She spoke from behind him, coming to a stop at the table he was half-laying on, leaning her hip against it and crossing her arms over her chest. She was dressed a little differently today, in a version of the Academy uniform with fitted trousers and tall boots to her thighs, instead of the skirt and leggings she usually went with. He could recognize pegasus-riding gear when he saw it, and the odd glove she wore on her right hand was obviously an archer's, as was the wrist guard over her left sleeve. She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowed with something that looked very much like mischief glimmering in the clear blue of them.
“I got the professor to write us a note of permission to take Lady and Sir out for some exercise." She cocked one blonde eyebrow at him. “Unless you're not so sure of your aim from the air, Lord 'I-don't-even-have-to-look-at-my-target.'"
He tilted his head from the spot on the table to regard her with a quirked brow. “Is that a challenge I hear? Because it sounds like a challenge to me," he stated, his cheek still resting on the table as he stared at her. He'd give her credit for her moxie, though. “And my aim is just as good in the air as it is on the ground, so it won't be much of a challenge," he stated, finally straightening his posture out. She did have a point, though. Practicing would be a lot easier to do than just reading, so he stood from his spot and glanced at her.
“Should we make it another competition, though, on who can hit the most targets in the air?" he asked, leaning just a little closer to her face. She did, after all, tell him to try harder if he wanted that kiss.
She furrowed her brows at him, the slightest pinkness rising to the surface of her skin, probably from his proximity, but to her credit she held it together a lot better than the last time, keeping her posture straight and staring brazenly right back into his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't the only one to sense a challenge in the making here. “Fine by me," she replied bluntly. “If I win, you're telling me how we met."
Lifting her chin just a bit, as if to compensate for the scant difference in their height, she held his eyes a moment longer, as if to make sure it was clear that she was not retreating, then turned crisply on her heel and led the way out towards the barn.
Mercer felt the grin on his face shift into a smirk. That was an interesting development. He rather liked that about her, but he'd keep that to himself, for now. Instead, he merely trailed behind her, letting her take the lead until they reached the barn where Lady and Sir were kept. Without a word, he retrieved the halter from the tack room, and pushed open the stable door where Sir, was. The wyvern grunted softly, as it stood in its spot.
“Hey bud, ready to stretch your wings for a bit?" he stated, waiting until Sir walked over towards him. The wyvern, however, sniffed at him, and grunted softly. “Ah, you're looking for fish, aren't you? Couldn't sneak it today, but I promise I'll get you one after practice, alright? I'll even get your favorite, the albinean herring," he stated as the wyvern stretched its wings out. Mercer knew Sir was going to hold him to that, and he slipped the halter on the wyvern's head. Once they were out on the field, he waited for Sorcha and Lady before glancing in their direction.
“Alright, so the rules will be a bit different for this one. We'll be flying, after all. The first person to hit," he paused to tap a thoughtful finger to his chin, “ten targets, wins. But they can't just be any targets." There wouldn't be a challenge if that were the case.
“They have to be moving targets in the air," he stated. He knew, on the other side of the Monastery, they had set up ranges like that for the wyvern and pegasus riders. It wouldn't make sense to not have something like that, after all, or wyvern and pegasi for that matter. “What do you want if you win?" he asked, a grin crossing his face. It was highly unlikely that she would win, but he did not want to underestimate her, again. She had come a long way with her training, something he was quite proud of her for.
“The whole story," she said simply. “I feel like I know you, but I don't know why. From what you said the first time we trained together, you do. So I want to know what you know." Leaving her bow slung over her back, Sorcha hopped astride Lady's bare back like she'd been riding pegasi her whole life, giving him a little smirk. He doubted she was really underestimating him, either—snarky as she got sometimes, she didn't ever seem to think less of him in the way he made it so easy for other people to do.
“What do you want, this time? More chores?"
Mercer's smirk turned a bit dark as he felt his eyes narrow slightly. “I want that kiss," he simply stated, climbing onto Sir's back with ease. He turned Sir in the direction of the targets, and was off before he could hear or see Sorcha's response. He had an idea of what she was going to say, and the blush on her face would have only served to make him more determined to win that kiss, however; regardless of who won, he would still tell her. It was obvious enough to him that she wanted to know, and he wasn't going to keep it from her, any longer. Besides, if he were being honest with himself, he was kind of pissed that she'd forgotten him. He gave her his mother's jewel, after all! And that was valuable... or at least that's what his mother had said.
“Are you ready?" he asked, glancing towards Sorcha as he pulled his bow from his shoulder.
She was, indeed, crimson, but the look on her face was nearly murderous. “It wasn't funny the first time," she grumbled, shifting her own bow over her shoulder. It was nothing special, only one of the practice ones the Academy had. As he recalled, the only real archers in Faerghus were longbowmen, and they were really only part-timers, soldiers who manned the walls during sieges but really preferred to fight up close. They used strategies that relied on creating a rain of arrows too thick to avoid, not individual accuracy. Probably she'd never shot a particularly good one. “And it's not funny now. Blue targets are mine."
Drawing an arrow from her quiver, Sorcha controlled Lady's flight with her knees alone, expertly nudging the pegasus into a flyby motion. Though the target moved also, the combination seemed to induce no confusion or miscalculation in Sorcha; she let fly, and the arrow thudded home into the target. It was perfectly on center, but well within the acceptable bounds for a challenge like this.
She brought lady back around beside Sir, gesturing almost irritably with her bow for him to take the next shot.
Mercer, for once, put on a rather serious face. “I wasn't joking; if I win, I want that kiss," was his reply before he nudged Sir towards his targets. He'd take the red ones if hers were blue, and he fit an arrow to his bow. Glancing back to make sure she was watching, he let it fly. With a loud thunk, the arrow found its home dead center of his target, as it had before. Making his way back to Sorcha, he smirked at her, a clear challenge, if anything.
It was such that the next few targets were neck and neck. For every target he hit, she would also land one. It became a constant that, with their last two shots to make, Mercer had completely turned serious about it. He'd known she'd improved, but the depth of her improvement was more than he'd thought. He was forced to actually concentrate on his targets, to make sure that every hit was as perfect as he could get it. When they were down to their last target, Mercer cleared his mind and focused on his target, releasing the arrow and watched as his aim was true.
“Last one, Princess," he stated, motioning for her to take the field.
For her part, Sorcha had clearly been taking this every bit as seriously. Her shots were not perfect, but the ease with which she directed Lady and read the wind went a long way to making up for that. This time, she only nodded by way of acknowledgment, already sighting down the field to pick out her target. There was only one left, and she seemed to have been avoiding it so far, as it sat at an awkward angle in Lady's turn for her draw; if she wasn't careful, she could nick the pegasus's wing in trying to line it up.
Sliding another arrow free of her quiver, she nocked it to the string, holding tension but not drawing all the way back. A tiny half-smile turned her lips up at one corner, and then almost without warning Lady burst forward, turning more sharply at the awkward corner and actually rolling in the air. Sorcha shot at the moment in the arc when her wings were out of the way, and the arrow thudded into the target.
Just in time, because she had to grab the pegasus's mane not to fall off—and down. She laughed, a surprisingly light sound for having been at risk of serious injury. “That's what I get for not bothering with a saddle," she said, coming to rest at a hover next to Mercer and—it was there and gone in a moment, but it looked like she'd winked at him.
“That's ten. But I went first, so... I think by most rules that gives you one more to tie it up, right?"
Mercer shook his head, a strange smile coming to his face. It was lighter than he usually allowed them to be, and turned in Sorcha's direction. “At this point, it wouldn't matter. We both know I'd make the hit, and we'd end in a tie. I have to say, Sorcha," he stated, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner, “you really have improved. I'm really proud of you. It usually takes people years to achieve as much progress as you have." He was being honest; he truly was proud of the progress she made, and there was a strange little burst of pride knowing that he was the reason.
“I suppose that makes our deal, null, but," he stated, turning his attention fully to her, “I'll still honor my side of it. Think of it as... uh, a partial victory on your part and how much you've impressed me today."
For a moment, Sorcha appeared to consider this, but then she shook her head, regarding him with a strange seriousness that contrasted sharply with the amusement of the moment before. “Make the shot," she said quietly. “Nothing's inevitable until it's already done." It didn't sound like she doubted him or anything, but there was something oddly insistent about her anyway.
Mercer rolled his eyes, but huffed in good nature. “Fine, fine," he replied, nudging Sir in the direction of his last shot. Unlike her last one, his wasn't anything too flashy. It was simply waving at him, like it was taunting him somehow. Granted, the target itself was smaller than the other ones, which meant that if he didn't concentrate on it, he would likely miss it. It didn't help that it was moving at a somewhat rapid pace in a circular motion. Taking an arrow from his quiver, he notched it and pulled the string back. He took a deep breath, watching, waiting for the target to be where he wanted it to be, and let the arrow fly.
“Told you," he stated over his shoulder as the arrow made contact with the target. He nudged Sir back towards Sorcha, and grinned. “Satisfied?"
She gave that a moment's thought, too, but then nodded. “Yes. Thank you." It seemed she genuinely meant it, too. “Let's let these two have a break, shall we? It looks like we're clear to land in that field over there." The one she pointed to was just outside the town of Garreg Mach proper, which was fair enough since most of the larger training areas for cavalry and fliers had to be put there as well. It boasted a large number of vivid woldflowers, and one of the small creeks common to mountainside landscapes like this one.
“I'd like to hear the story, now."
“Let me get comfortable, first," he stated once they'd landed. He removed the halter from Sir's head, just so that it wouldn't bother him or impede him in any way, before he took a seat on the grass. Once he was satisfied, he laid back, propping his hands behind his head so he had a clear view of the sky. “You and I met when we were kids," he began, keeping his gaze to the sky. There were a lot of clouds today, but he didn't mind. It meant that he would be able to actually see without being blinded by how bright it could get.
“We were probably around five or six at the time, I can't remember exactly, but your father came to the Alliance on a visit. You'd accompanied him, and well... you wouldn't stop bugging me when we'd been introduced," he stated, pursing his lips together. She'd been so excited for some strange reason, and at the time, it had annoyed Mercer. He chanced a glance at her, and sighed.
“You followed me around everywhere."
This declaration was followed by the sound of the second halter landing softly on the ground. Sorcha took a moment to settle next to him, leaning back on her hands, legs stretched in front of her and crossed neatly at the ankles. A breeze stirred the wildflowers, carrying the scent along with it. A light one, vaguely lavender-like.
“I... don't remember much, from that part of my life," she admitted, quietly as if she were afraid of being overheard, out here where there was no one but the two of them, a pegasus, and a wyvern. “I used to think most children didn't, but when I talk with Sen, her memories of childhood are always so much clearer than mine. I don't even remember anything about my mother." She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Anyway... never mind that. I guess I bothered you? Sorry."
Mercer quirked a brow at that. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Sometimes that's just the way the mind works when it's been through a trauma. It blocks off certain memories, even the good ones, before the incident so that they aren't brought back up," he stated, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. He would imagine that after what she'd experienced in the Tragedy, her body's natural coping mechanism was to forget about it, and unfortunately her earlier memories, too.
“And nah, you weren't a bother really. It was kind of nice having someone follow me around. Kinda like I had a little sister. I didn't have any siblings, you see," he stated, turning his head to grin at her. “Do you still have that jewel I gave you?" he questioned, blinking slowly at her. “Mom was kind of pissed when I told her I lost it. I didn't tell her I gave it to you, though," because he had a feeling his mother would have likely skinned him for giving away such a valuable item. Apparently his father had given it to her, but he didn't really know the story behind that.
“Jewel?" she echoed, eyes snapping quickly down to his. They were wide with something like alarm, almost panic. It wasn't clear why, until she straightened enough to lift both her hands from the ground. For some reason, she undid the uniform button at her throat, and then the one just beneath before hooking a finger inside against her neck and giving a tug. At first, all that came up was a cord, but she kept pulling, and eventually a pendant came free, too.
It was roughly oval in shape, a brilliant, vitreous blue-green that caught the light and sparked. Rather than damage the stone, she appeared to have wound a delicate lattice of silver wire around it to hold it carefully while still allowing the color to show through. “You—are you telling me you're the one who gave me this?" The question was urgent, as though it was something of grave importance to her, somehow.
“Yep," he replied, popping the last letter as he grinned at her. “You ended up falling over something and it was the only thing I could think of to give you to make you stop crying," he stated shrugging his shoulders. “I'm glad you've taken care of it, though. Oh," he started, suddenly realizing something. “You can keep it, though. I, uh, already told my mom that I lost it so... it's not like I need it back or anything." He wanted her to know that she could keep it. It's not like it was that important to him.
To his mother, perhaps, but not him. “Besides, it looks really good with you. Brings out the blue in your eyes," he continued, giving her a lazy grin.
“I—" For a second Sorcha seemed like she wasn't sure how to respond to that. But then she huffed. “Well, I'd hope so. Crying or not, you did give it to me." She looked down at it, tracing her thumb along one of the silver threads and flushing. Probably at the compliment—it wasn't too difficult to fluster her, really.
But then she slipped the stone back under her shirt and turned towards him, narrowing her eyes at his face. “Well you've held up your end," she said. “And you did make your last shot, so." Without any further warning, she moved up onto one knee and threw her other leg over his waist, bracing her hands on either side of his head.
“If you tell anyone I did this I'm getting Senka to break me into your room again so I can poison you in your sleep." She let that sit for just a moment before leaning down, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his cheek. It was a chaste thing, entirely innocent, but she didn't do it like he was infectious, either, lingering long enough to exhale softly against the skin of his cheek.
“Thank you," she murmured, close enough to his ear that there was barely any sound and he could hear anyway. “I was a big crybaby so I probably didn't say it the first time. But... thanks for looking out for me, back then."
Mercer chuckled lightly. She really was adorable at times, and that thought alone was enough to bring him crashing back to reality. It wouldn't last. Nothing lasted. Something would happen, and then it would be gone. But for now... he supposed he could enjoy this one moment, where it was just him, her, a pegasus, and wyvern.
“You're welcome, Sorcha."
“It shall be our little secret."