Glitter in the sky, glitter in my eye, shining just the way I like
Snuggling in against his side, dark curls came to rest against Ronin's shoulder. Seren savored moments like these. Reveled in the closeness until she felt spoiled rotten, and could gaze at the world through eyes bright and hazy with content. Every lost moment of growing up under his watching eyes had to be reclaimed, but there would always be a thorn of longing in her throat, for all the things they could never return to. Pancake breakfasts and games in the garden, treasure hunts along the coast and afternoons spent hunched over sketches and drawings, learning letters and other lessons while rain hammered against the windowsill.
They should've had more of it. All of it.
But stargazing on a cloud while the world was on fire below was not bad either. Seren's smile was wide, exalted at the tickling height and the vast canvas of stars that gleamed softly above their heads. Following the pointing figer, she made out the constellation and hummed in appreciation - even if she couldn't quite make out what stars made up which part.
"Clothes are good," she nodded sagely. "Or you would be so crowded by ogling people that you never got anything done." She had seen the looks many of the Dragoons sent after her father. Trainees and veterans alike; it was impossible to miss, and no one seemed to really care if subjects over dinner or at the common rooms made the Dragon's daughter retreat to her room with ears burning from embarrassment.
Falling silent for a moment, as she gazed up at the Warrior and contemplated the weight of Safrin's years, the immesurable time expanding within those star-filled eyes, Seren turned to gaze thoughtfully up at her father.
"Dad... do you love Mother?" she asked, very softly.
They should've had more of it. All of it.
But stargazing on a cloud while the world was on fire below was not bad either. Seren's smile was wide, exalted at the tickling height and the vast canvas of stars that gleamed softly above their heads. Following the pointing figer, she made out the constellation and hummed in appreciation - even if she couldn't quite make out what stars made up which part.
"Clothes are good," she nodded sagely. "Or you would be so crowded by ogling people that you never got anything done." She had seen the looks many of the Dragoons sent after her father. Trainees and veterans alike; it was impossible to miss, and no one seemed to really care if subjects over dinner or at the common rooms made the Dragon's daughter retreat to her room with ears burning from embarrassment.
Falling silent for a moment, as she gazed up at the Warrior and contemplated the weight of Safrin's years, the immesurable time expanding within those star-filled eyes, Seren turned to gaze thoughtfully up at her father.
"Dad... do you love Mother?" she asked, very softly.
Seren
