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Jeanne would've complained, seeing that everything about where she was sitting was uncomfortable. The thinly-knitted excuse of a blanket did little for them the night before and just as much now. The morning dew soaked through it, leaving the Heiress' bare skin under her legs chilled with moisture, small blades of grass tickled with each movement she made.
She could have complained, but it was hard to with the sight before her. A sea of black hair strewn out across her lap, and onto the ground below before it curled back around onto the owner's legs. The owner being Cereza, the outcast witch passed out across Jeanne's own slender calves.
She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling how damp it was from her head rolling around in her sleep. She had assumed that with such an eventful night, she wouldn’t have had any trouble with sleep. But she feared the idea that this could be a norm for Cereza, to be such a restless sleeper perpetually. The uninviting and cruel coldness of the clan's perception of her, as well as the stones that made up her place to call home, must have been attributed to it.
She had hoped her presence would lessen this in some way, but Jeanne would always pull herself away from the thought, assuming she was overstepping to presume how Cereza truly felt about her. Despite their deep bond that over two decades of friendship and companionship can sprout, and considering they were not shy to try and take it to the next step, Jeanne occasionally worried it wasn’t enough.
A faint fear that Cereza was merely humoring her, after all this time. Being that she was the Heiress after all, a notable position of power within the clan that continues to demoralize, and ironically, demonize Cereza. Was it all just a roux to remain on good terms with the possible Umbran Elder? Or to try and use her for some other personal gain later on?
Jeanne hadn’t thought about this for so long, and remembers why she didn’t. Because it all seemed outrageous. If Cereza was attempting to put on a face for this long, it was blood impressive. She had been with Jeanne, through thick and thin. A pillar of support and love that no other witch had given her, not even her own mother.
They were the ones that always fell through as nothing more than a hollow promises. Cracked smiles were meant to appease her. The lack of any genuine love or compassion from her sisters in arms had been the most soul-crushing part of childhood and then on.
So when she would have these intrusive thoughts thinking Cereza was anything but the best thing for her, she would mentally slap herself silly. It sometimes occurred to her that she almost didn’t care if Cereza was in some way false to her, because the beautiful woman, inside and out, in front of her was enough for her. And then some.
Cereza must have a sixth sense when Jeanne is caught up in her own mind, as the older witch stirred. Pleasantly, at least, as she groaned from a small stretch and leaned into Jeanne’s touch as she continued to scratch at her scalp softly.
“Good morning,” She mumbled, nuzzling her cheek down onto her knee, eyes still shut and her glasses shifted on her face from the movement. Her hands that were wrapped under her body slowly eased up to grace along Jeanne’s skin, thumbing around her ankle.
“It’s nearly noon, Cereza,” Jeanne said, almost condescending if she had not woken just a few moments prior as well.
“Well now, that is a first isn’t it? Ha, I might as well not get up if I have wasted the day away.”
Jeanne was surprised that Cereza had woken up so late. She absolutely loathes when she would tear her blankets from her bed to get her up whenever they had the luxury of staying in Jeanne’s room. So on this rare occasion, she counted it as a blessing to actually enjoy the silence, but also the comfort in seeing Cereza sleep.
“I won’t argue that. I do enjoy this quite a bit. We don't have to worry about training today, no drills or pointless chores. Or about my mother catching us,” Jeanne’s fingers danced through the raven hair more playfully, stirring a small giggle from Cereza.
“She might still catch us, if she doesn’t hear from you at some point today. I swear, you cannot even walk ten feet in either direction without that woman practically breathing down your neck,” Cereza finally rolled over, head falling further into Jeanne’s lap, her face turned upright to look up at the blonde witch.
A tender smile meeting a humorful one. Both nearly broke into laughter when they realized how much they were covered in their own kisses still. Faded purple and red lipstick dotted along their collarbones, neck, and chest. Jeanne’s curly hair hid the rest as the strands conveniently covered her bare chest. Cereza reached up, pruney fingers from the dew brushing her cheek, pushing some of her hair back over her ear. Her palms stayed there, cuffing her chin with a touch so kind, that Jeanne could fall back asleep into it.
“Well, she can spend the rest of the day worrying. Because I have much more important things to do.”
“And that’s too lie here and stare at me while the cicadas grant us the pleasure of singing that wonderful noise,” Cereza's eyes rolled in a theatrical way, her body sliding down off of Jeanne to emphasize her act.
“You chose to come here, when we could just sneak into my bedroom,” Jeanne held her back up, not wanting to lose her just yet from her grasp.
“Well, quite frankly dear, your bedroom has some limitations. The walls are not quite… soundproof,” Cereza rolled back over to stare down Jeanne, a sly grin fit for the devious cat she was. It sparked a harsh blush from the paler witch, her lips pursing as she continued to weave fingers through her hair to distract from the devilish expression.
“You’re awful,” Jeanne’s eyes averted to not fall trap to Cereza’s locking gaze.
“Well, that is not what you told me last night…” Cereza rolled her body further in, her arm uncurling from under her body and wrapping around Jeanne’s hip. Her lips graced her stomach, another splotch of lipstick left in its wake.
Jeanne only giggled more, half from Cereza’s charming humor that never ceased to amaze Jeanne, and half because the touch tickled her.
“No, I suppose I did say something different, didn’t I?” Jeanne lifted Cereza’s gaze by grabbing her chin with her other hand. “And despite that wretched tree root that was absolutely tearing my spine in half, it was an absolutely lovely evening nonetheless.”
“I suppose we could have gotten a better spot,” Cereza leaned into her grasp, her large smile intoxicating, and rather contagious to the Heiress. “Did you sleep well at least?”
“Perfectly fine…” Jeanne hesitated on her thoughts, but proceeded ahead regardless of what may come of it. “Did you? You…tossed a lot. You mumbled a little bit too.”
Jeanne’s stomach grew a horrible pit when she saw Cereza’s smile fade. Her eyes shifted back down, her just resting in Jeanne’s lap as she hesitated.
“Cereza?”
“It was just a bad dream, nothing too serious,” Cereza’s voice upturned to her usual cockiness, snuggling deeper into being despite being so close.
Jeanne hated how she lied because she was still quite bad at it. She wondered if it was because she herself had to learn to lie so well growing up around her mother, whereas Cereza could barely ever keep a secret from Rosa.
But where the black-haired witch lacked in lying, made up for it with a bravado that could easily mask those compromising thoughts or emotions she had.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeanne asked, timidly. She watched Cereza carefully, not seeing any change in her movement.
“It’s the same as the other ones.”
Her tone hadn’t changed, but she could feel the dread in them. Jeanne could recall when Cereza had told her about a repeating nightmare, where the entire valley was burning. Angels everywhere, where all the witches were dead. She didn’t know where Jeanne was, but it always ended the same. She found Rosa’s body, dead in the courtyard. She would always try to wake her, but she never did.
Cereza said the first time it happened, she scared Rosa, since she was just outside her cell door. The teenage Umbra awoke with a scream, and the elder witch had to fight tooth and nail to get her to tell her what she had seen. Rosa, in all her motherly wisdom and comfort, tried to ease Cereza’s mind telling her it was just a dream.
It was enough to put her mind at ease, until it had continued to happen over the course of a few months. Cereza was growing used to it, but it never stopped bothering her.
Jeanne could feel Cereza’s fingers press into Jeanne’s thigh with a desperate grab. She had hated feeling exposed, even around the Heiress. She found it easier to bury, and hide away from it. She had always done so, her entire life.
But Jeanne’s prying eyes and fingers pulled back out of the comfort of her lap to face her. Cereza didn’t seem amused with Jeanne’s intrusion, but she loved just how much she would hold her.
“Don’t hide from Cereza. Please,” Jeanne’s voice lowered, eyes gifting her with a shimmering flicker of care that pierced through her clouded mind. “You don’t have to hide from me. You know that.”
The smile, the reassured and rekindled hope she wanted to see. Cereza finally pushed herself up, propping up one arm as her face came within inches from Jeanne’s.
The Heiress’ breath hitched from the sudden movement, kicking herself for always becoming so off guard from just the smallest things.
“I know,” Cereza murmured, her free hand raising to twirl platinum curls between slender fingers. “You don’t deserve to always hear about my burdens.”
“Don’t say that,” Jeanne’s voice snapped, faster and harsher than she had expected. But she meant it, furrowed brow and all. “You don't deserve to have such burdens to begin with. I want you Cereza…and that means all of you. Burdens, bad dreams and all.”
Cereza’s lips pursed into a smile, but one that was apparent was trying to hold back a much stronger emotion. Jeanne briefly saw the building of the watery dams with her eyelid, but they were lost as she closed them and leaned in for a kiss.
Jeanne took her in, the slow and tender embrace that built to a much more passionate moment. Hands locked onto cheeks and gingerly wrapped behind the base of their necks. Jeanne could feel it, it was an escape for her. Cereza still hated facing her sorrow in an outward way, and swallowed it all. But Jeanne had to assume this was a comfort to her, in some way.
She may not embrace or confront it, but knowing she could at least ease the pain, in some way, did help.
Jeanne wanted to come to believe that she helped Cereza, in more ways than one. That this simple act of love, something as simple as touch or kiss, could make Cereza feel whole.
Because Cereza did all of that for her. So in some hope, in some wish, she wanted it to be the same.
Cereza pulled away from the kiss, her smile returning to her. And even one stray tear trickling down her cheek in an unapologetic way.
“I hope you can get all of that lipstick off…I would die to see how your mother would react if saw her precious Heiress acting so… scandalous ,” Cereza hummed, bringing the conversation back around to a much lighter tone, and honestly, Jeanne didn’t blame her for it.
“Do you think if I told her it was some other witch, she’d even believe me?” Jeanne humored, her head leaning back against the tree as she watched the dancing leaves above. The wind that blew by wouldn’t have been as chilly if they weren’t so damp still. And still completely naked and out in the open.
“I can’t even guess. I truly wonder if your mother has just given up on stopping you from hanging out with me. It has been sometime since she’s said anything…This would certainly not help,” Cereza finger’s tapped at a few purple streaks, tickling the Heiress more with each prick.
“I don’t care anyway. Rules be damned, all their fucking laws. When I’m queen, it won’t matter anyway.”
“My my, what a foul mouth, your highness!” Cereza threw herself back down across her lap, arm draped her face in such a dramatic way, it sent Jeanne into a small tizy of giggles. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The accursed outcast tainting the princess with such…unpleasantries.”
“Oh please, you know I learned it from the other girls. I don’t believe I have ever heard you swear, at least to that degree.”
“Mummy never swears, and I will never forget how mad she got when I did. I think it scared me enough, so I never did it again. Well, at least around her,” Cereza chuckled, staying in Jeanne's lap as her hands swung about, animated to an exaggerated degree.
“You usually see Rosa around this time…do you want to head back so you don’t worry about her?” Jeanne shifted tones, leaning over slightly to regain eye contact with Cereza, whose head was back in the grass.
“Oh, she knows I am up to no good,” Cereza started, but her smile turned to a guilty one. “But she worries, no matter what. I should go see her. In fact, why don’t you come with me?”
“Really?”
“You haven’t visited her in a long time. She would love the additional company, especially yours. Besides, I always speak so highly of you.”
The last part made Jeanne’s chest ache with such longing and appreciation. The few times she had seen Rosa, she was always met with the same thought. She wished she was her mother instead. For someone locked up behind bars for the remainder of eternity, she had such kindness to her that even free witches didn’t. For arguably the strongest witch alive, you would never know. A Lumen Sage would kill to have the glowing and impressionable love Rosa had.
She had said things to her she could never imagine her own mother saying. Compliments, stories, and reassurances. It felt so alien, and…not real.
Jeanne’s smile gave away what her answer was, as before she could say anything, Cereza was already climbing to her feet.
“Right, let’s get going then. I would hate to burn anymore daylight,” Cereza's legs shook, and she nearly toppled back over if not for Jeanne catching her one the way up. She laughed harder than Jeanne expected, leaning into her arms.
“Legs fell asleep,” Is all she said between soft giggles.
“Of course you would worry about how much sunlight there is left in the day. One would think you weren’t an Umbra at all,” Jeanne hoisted her back up, standing straight while her hand slinked down to wrap around her fingers.
“You can blame my father for that,” Cereza turned back around, wiping her long hair out of the way so she could see Jeanne properly again.
The two stared silently, both eyes taking in the other’s image. Despite what Jeanne said, the sun complimented them both. The moisture reflects on their skin like thousands of diamonds, a cherry on top of an already delectable sight.
“Well, are you gonna get dressed or keep gawking? I don’t suppose your mother told you it was polite to stare,” Jeanne said, hands going to her hips and as she shifted to the side, amusingly.
“Oh please, how do you think mummy swooned my father?” Cereza leaned down to pick up the traces of scattered clothing that was her uniform. Also moist from the dew, but it was better than nothing.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Jeanne picked up the once clean and pristine red uniform, her nose wrinkling back slightly as she knew she would, at the very least, hear about this from her mother.
“Are you saying I have swooned you, Jeanne?” Cereza leaned over, face inches away again.
“Most definitely,” Jeanne silenced her with another kiss, but just short enough so they could still get dressed.
Jeanne felt some relief to be clothed, if anything to help stay the coldness that bit at her.
Cereza took her by the hand again as she left her back out of the meadow, the sound of the summer bugs and rustling leaves all they needed to hear as they relished in their company. They would talk some more when they got there, Cereza always loved to hear Rosa’s stories, and even brag for Jeanne’s sake.
They would continue after that, finding somewhere to hang low for the evening to eat dinner, away from everyone else still. Until dawn would come and training would start up again.
But for now, in the late morning, with nothing but themselves and the serene valley that surrounded them, they simply walked and remained in their minds about how much they loved the other.
Because despite their own clouded thoughts, they both truly loved one another, unconditionally. Even if the other was too afraid or unsure to admit it.