InsaneJournal

The Satinalia bonfire always had the same effect on Godric, every year, like clockwork. The sensation of his heart threatening to burst, that he couldn't possibly be happier, was inevitable, but so too was the discomfort of being close to a source of flame-- and not a small one, either. Any campfires of the past were smaller, manageable, and he kept his distance regardless. A bonfire was something else, the heat of it stirring up that which he'd pressed down deep enough to keep from seeing, and he excused himself early on to fetch additional firewood and kindling to keep the fire blazing.

They were dropped heavily upon his return, and suddenly, he was wishing there were more than two drinks in his body, because it wasn't enough.

Her eyes followed Godric around. Usually that filled her with glee tonight to see him so damn happy. But Souvelani recognized the feeling of not knowing an important piece of history, something which affected Godric’s mood and actions. Whatever it was ran parallel to good times, coexisting in a way she was familiar with. And the elf made her way to him, bulkier for the pack on her back, but its weight was nothing to her. She then hugged him, a leaping motion that ended with her feet off the ground because he had stood and was so freaking tall.

It wasn’t the first time she had hugged him like so, and Souvelani felt right at home. “Hey there,” she greeted him again. Her chin rested against his back, and he smelled like woods. It smelled good on anyone.

Luckily the wood was out of his hands before he could drop it, startled, but his reaction was the opposite of annoyed: his hands settling over hers, smile almost as warm as the fire itself. "Hey," he returned, finding her presence had quickly choked most of the discomfort out of him. "You're heavier than I remember, suddenly."

Her head leaned heavily against back, snuggling a little closer to find just the right spot. She was starting to learn it. Laughter escaped a little, given how little she knew she weighed. “Perhaps I ate a whole deer myself,” Souvelani joked, “So it’s me and the deer.” That wasn’t the answer, of course. Because she couldn’t eat a whole one. Not even starving. But she had eaten some.

Even if it wasn't the answer, it forced his smile to turn up a little higher on one side. "That is impressive. I'm very impressed right now." He pulled her hands, and therefore her arms, in tighter. "When did you have the time for that?"

Laughter choked in her throat, her attempts to quash it. An attempt to continue with the joke with a straight face. Fortunately, Godric couldn’t see how spectacularly Souvelani was failing at that. “I did go and hunt them all, you know,” Souvelani replied, “And I’ve been hunting regularly, with or without you boys, since I got here.” For food, for the presents, for the sense of identity that came being in the forest. “Made myself hungry,” she tacked on. Silly, no deer she ate a day ago would still weigh her down now.

His thumb traced circles into the back of her hand, forming invisible pictures. "There's no shortage of food tonight, so you're in luck. Unless Lev and I eat everything," he laughed, because their appetites took a lot to satiate. Somehow, he managed to adjust his neck to catch sight of her peripherally. It wasn't a full view of her face, but it would serve. "Thank you for coming." Maybe it wasn't necessary to say, but there it was, said anyway.

The party was large, for a family so small. Rather, she wasn’t used to families that could be counted on one hand or even two. The names on the orbs hadn’t been enough to make it feel large, but she had hunted beyond what she had guessed people would it. It felt right. Leftovers were still good. “Oh, I will,” Souvelani replied, “Just eat a bit here, a bit there, all night long. It may not feel like eating a lot, but it’ll add up.”

Her face tilted up higher, not having expected a thank you yet. They hadn’t even touched on presents. “I want to be here,” Souvelani replied. Even if she didn’t know their friends, she was glad to be a part of the evening. Including every time anyone ate anything. “I made you something,” the elf shared, in a secretive whisper.

Godric's surprise was a mix of things: alcohol buzzing through his veins, being caught up in the moment, remembering that gifts weren't done being exchanged. That she was here was a gift on its own, but he wasn't so far gone that he could say that without wanting to burrow into the ground beneath them. "What something?" he queried, curious.

Souvelani hauled herself up higher on Godric’s back. One arm wrapped itself further around him, and the elf leaned in the opposite direction. Thus freed, she reached behind her, showing some flexibility in reaching into her bag and pulling out a rolled garment, thick and warm. Her arm reached around him again, holding it up. “And there’s something inside it too,” she warned, in case he opened the cloak too quickly.

He definitely had no plans to do that, too entranced by the cloak he pulled from her grip. Fennec fur, he knew immediately from the feeling of it, having skinned many in the past. The softness was distracting, even more so than the idea of there being something else tucked beneath, and dazed, he traced his fingers over the fur.

Barely possessing the frame of mind to thank her just yet, he set to unraveling the cloak enough to reach that something (the other something; she had made this cloak as well, he knew), movements precarious as if he thought he might drop it. As his fingers closed around the item, it felt like wood -- smoother, less rough than the firewood he'd hauled moments ago, not soft like the fur.

The smaller thing in his hand stared back at him: a fennec, not real, not at all life-sized, but carved with attention and love.

He breathed a soft, helpless laugh.

Still leaning off toward one side, Souvelani watched his face and his hands, eyes turning back and forth to do so, and she felt his mood through his body. Being nearly dead weight made her feel the reactions Godric didn’t say aloud. And those meant just as much. Her smile grew, and Souvelani felt as though she had downed a serving or two of a harder liquor. The night wasn’t cold, and Souvelani felt whole, whole enough to forget about any missing pieces.

So the elf didn’t need to ask whether he liked his gifts. Instead she simply smiled and hung on, happy for the moment to stretch a long long while.

Words wouldn't have been a sufficient reaction to that which was a reminder, a good reminder, of their first meeting. There was no way for her to know how much he'd loved foxes growing up, more as a child as he did now, and the memories of that, of the stuffed fennec that had kept him, in his eyes then, safe, meant a thank you didn't measure up.

"How long did it take you to make these?" he said instead, awed. While he made his own arrows, it hardly took as much detailed skill as carving.

Souvelani shrugged, as best she could, in her current position. “I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “I like to work on something when I’m not doing anything. And I knew I wanted to carve a fennec when I thought of you, so it’d been happening on its own. I did make sure to finish a good one for tonight. Time just passes when I’m carving. And I am glad to do it.” Any amount of time was worth it. Sometimes it was quick, sometimes she spent an hour on the shape of a tail. Whatever it called for.

As happiness vibrated inside, warm and dizzying, Godric could only hold the gifts to his chest as he freed the other hand and settled it over hers. "Come down, all right? I want to hug you proper."

With a nod, the elf swung slowly back then threw her legs around, while her arms relaxed their hold on him but held together. The idea had been too tempting, though the execution left her hanging more off to the side than all the way around. Souvelani dropped her hold altogether, stumbled back one step, then came around to Godric’s face and beamed up at him.

No matter how many times they were in each other's company, he couldn't help but trip over the fact that she was so small. Small, willowy, but strong, durable, full of so much more love than a person twice her size could hold inside of them. All of it suited her. Every bruise, scrape, lock of messy hair.

If possible, his heart swelled even more with how much he loved her.

Crushing her against his chest wasn't the embrace he was looking for, and whatever the awkwardness of height difference, he bent at the waist to settle folded cloak and carving onto a log, drawing from below to wrap his arms around her.

Her arms, hardly a moment after letting go, wrapped themselves around the tall rogue again, and Souvelani jumped up in time with his lifting her up. Godric didn’t need the help, but Souvelani had too much energy to be a ragdoll after being a cloak. “I need you too much to go without you,” she said. They were together in Cumberland, but neither of them were the sort to stay in this place forever. And Souvelani, Souvelani didn’t mean to end up alone again (and her daughter, gods protect her, Souvelani knew too well to dream about a fairy tale ending).

Godric wasn't so caught up in the moment that he couldn't roll that implication over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of it through what had washed over him. He didn't need to ask -- he knew, knew it was bigger than this, bigger than tonight. There was more determination than confidence in her tone, and he encircled his arms tighter around her, for both assurance and a hesitant sort of happiness.

"Are you sure?" he mumbled into her shoulder.

She nodded first. Then Souvelani froze, unsure whether or not Godric had been able to tell what she was doing. “I was sure before I realized it,” Souvelani replied. With a small sigh, her grip tightened around him. “Just had to catch up to myself.” Because inevitably, being a good mother, meant letting her daughter go, except when chance brought them near enough to stay in further touch. But here, it had none of those implications, and it made her happier than she had in years to know that being a good mother could mean staying.

Uncertainty twisted through the rungs of his ribcage. He expelled a long breath. "Even if there are wolves snapping at our heels?"

Souvelani was familiar with being chased by wolves. It wouldn’t be the first time she dealt with - that, that had likely been a metaphor, wasn’t it? Godric wasn’t likely to be concerned about actual wolves chasing them. He and Lev hunted dragons. The elf leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Wolves may scare me,” she said honestly, “But they don’t scare me off.”

"There's more," he continued, voice quiet. "And we'll tell you about it, but not tonight. This is what I want to remember tonight by." How happy he was, how happy she was. Free of responsibilities, of fear, of what was to come, just for a night. They could take on tomorrow tomorrow.

The space was small, but it allowed him to lean in for a soft kiss against her cheek. "Fennecs and halla can do whatever they want tonight."

Of course there was. Souvelani was not surprised one bit. They all had secrets, some that they had shared already, some that they hadn’t shared yet. Her daughter was one, a secret she longed to share and always grew nervous about, one she didn’t share because Elloen had asked her not to. “It can wait,” Souvelani replied in agreement. It would change things, but it wouldn’t change her decision.

Her smile grew into a grin, and Souvelani sighed happily. “Yes, it’s a wonderful peaceful night, for fennecs and halla and their friends,” she agreed.

Godric wanted little more than to cling to her for the rest of the night, but fennecs and halla and their friends had things to do, especially when all together. "I have your gift, too," he said suddenly, as if only then remembering once the hum of affection had quietened somewhat. "It's from both of us. As in -- Lev and I, us. I have to put you down, but," his smile made an appearance, "give me a second to grab it. Maybe two."

Souvelani had been in no rush to do anything else, not when this was an option. But, as it went with all things, the hug had to end. A gift was a good reason, and Souvelani had known Godric had it. But her heart still dropped a little as she nodded and let go. She had to at the end of the night, anyway. He’d go home with Sorin or Lev or both of them. “I’ll be right here,” she assured him.

The wait was more than two seconds, but it had been a joking estimation. When Godric finally returned from the other side of the fire where his pack had been, it was with a relatively small package wrapped in light leathers and twine. There would be no doubting that he himself had wrapped it, especially with the dried flower tucked where twine crisscrossed; he had always been the one better with his hands and small, careful tasks.

There were traces of shyness in his face and posture, but only traces, as he approached, stopping in the spot he'd just vacated and holding the gift out to her.

Her eyes watched him the entire time, and Souvelani wanted to hug him out of his nervousness again. But she understood the feeling. So she moved to relieve it by accepting the gift. Her eyes went first to the flower, dried and carefully set. They broke apart so easily. With great care she removed it from the package and lightly set it in her hair. The mess of it clawed onto it immediately, secure enough not to blow away. And she smiled up at him, one of his own (still nervous) smiles mirrored back at her.

Then her hands carefully untied the knot, her nails long enough to pull on the smallest loops. That took longer than ripping it open, but Souvelani didn’t want to damage the gift. When it was off, she wrapped the twine around her wrist as many times as it fit and tucked the end underneath the strands. Reverently, her hands unfolded each part of the leathers until the insides showed, something fluffy and thick first visible. Her smile grew with a small laugh as she held up the two socks (matching). And left behind, neatly folded bow strings sat on the leathers in her palm. Her head ducked, to look at them closely. Quality, yes, and store bought. They didn’t feel right to be Godric’s. Well, it was probably time she had her first store bought ones! “It’s all wonderful,” she declared, “Thank you.”

The curve of his lips drew higher, and he reached for her once more, just to delicately tuck the flower a little more firmly in her hair so it wouldn't be lost to a rogue breeze. "Happy Satinalia."

“Happy Satinalia,” Souvelani replied and squashed herself against Godric’s chest, not bothering to leap for his neck or shoulders this time. Instead her arms just wrapped around him, socks in one hand. “You’ve got a mom now, as long as anyone does,” she whispered.

Instantly, his arms had gone around her, squeezing gently at the words. The truth was, he'd known for some time now, but hearing it now, believing it was so easy, and so right. He didn't how else to explain it, so he wouldn't try, settling his lips to the crown of her head. "Does that make you a Tagaris?" he murmured against her hair, smiling. None of it was official, and Tagaris was more affiliation than identity. Still, it felt right.