Chapter Text
There’s a fairy tale that’s been made hundreds of years ago by an unknown author, its origin was never identified, but it was considered to be the national story in the land.
The Relation To Desperation.
It’s a story that Marcille Donato has been reading since she was a young child. A kiss to make you weak in the knees. It’s something that she didn’t understand but wanted to experience when she was younger, now that she’s an adult, she found the idea ridiculous. She’s read that line in multiple novels and could never find the logical reason for how such a thing is possible. How can a simple intimate act make you physically weak? There must be some sort of witchcraft involved if that were the case.
But still, she can't help but wonder how good can a kiss be to make someone weak in the knees?
She didn’t believe in such a thing, rather, she stayed curious but never planned to actively seek it.
That is, until she started developing a crush on a certain someone that she considered to be her bestest friend, the only person she trusts with her life, the only person who listened to her rambles about magic spells without a single complaint, the only person who willingly sat through her rambling and even bothered to ask questions about whatever topic she’s talking about.
She’s never had someone like that. Years of constant neglect and lack of attention from her mother after her father passed did that. She’s never found someone like that, until that tiny blonde who’s always had leaves stuck on her hair and smelled like nature every time she walked by grew up to be the kindest and the most beautiful woman she’s ever met.
Falin Touden.
Just hearing her name makes Marcille’s heart beat slightly out of her chest. She’s unsure when or why she’s been feeling this way for her best friend. She reminds herself of her mother who fell in love with a tallman. She doesn’t like the similarity she shares with the woman who emotionally abandoned her. It makes her sick in the stomach at the mere thought of it.
This was just a crush. She’s not going to accept repeating and living the life her mother had before she was brought into the world.
That’s why when she realized that she had grown to have a crush on Falin, she buried her head into endless books, reading them over and over again, from books that discussed the difference between light and dark magic, the rarity of spells, to novels that never strayed near to romance, not wanting to be reminded of the slight admiration she had for Falin who she went to the same school with, the same girl who led her outside the academy to explore what’s beyond, the girl who introduced her to the wildlife and their importance in biodiversity – something about the little trivias that she would share without being asked made Marcille’s heart hum with endearment.
Falin’s always been so considerate with her, she pays attention to her in more ways than Marcille could imagine and it scares her out of her wits end.
Feelings aren’t Marcille Donato’s forte. She can excel in academics, raise the bar and become the role model that every student can look up to and be the face of education itself, representing centuries of history that the school carries. She can excel in magic and play as her class’s Ace. She can learn and be good at anything but not feelings.
That wretched, absolutely bothersome, feelings that do not contribute to anything to her life but pose as nothing but a mere distraction that has successfully thrown her off track time and time again whether it be on purpose or not. Marcille believes in the former. Because why can Marcille Donato, wise and strong Marcille Donato, effortlessly deal with anything that stands in her way with ease, but fails to deal with her own feelings?
‘This has got to be a joke.’
It starts with her looking at Falin Touden’s smile.
No, I mean actually look at Falin’s smile.
The way her squinting eyes would crinkle into the little shape of a crescent moon, roses blooming onto her pale, chubby cheeks, and her naturally pouty lips would curl upwards into a radiantly tranquil smile. A smile so full of genuine happiness and unadulterated empathy – something clicked in Marcille’s brain when she caught sight of it.
She's always seen Falin smile. Of course she does. They've been classmates for years, she and Falin grew up together. She has witnessed the shy and tiny Falin Touden who had always been ostracized and labeled as a dirty girl by her fellow schoolmates for being weird and ditching classes to who knows where, growing into a lovely woman who she ventured dungeon after dungeon with.
Marcille’s aware of how charming Falin is. Just her smooth and soft voice paired with a flash of her signature smile, she would capture the hearts of everyone around her.
It tends to work on other adventurers they meet, and most of the time, it works on the people living in the town. Whenever they would go and buy their equipment, the vendors would always coddle Falin, praising her and trying to convince her to abandon her current job that has continuously put her life in grave danger, and instead join the town’s dancers and make a decent living without having to fight monsters.
Marcille knows it. It works on strangers. Falin’s just that beautiful, it'd be impossible to miss her strong and serene aura. The aura of a healer who seems like she could heal any kind of sickness that dares to befall those who she holds dear.
It works on strangers. But she didn't think it would work on her.
She's gripping her hair frustratedly, cheeks flushed red and eyes darting across the room, clearly unfocused and panicking.
“God.” She's alone in the room she and Falin shared. The memory of what happened just a while ago continues to replay in her mind again and again like a broken record, and all it did was fluster her even more.
Falin was picking flowers, claiming that it was an offering to the dead, hoping that they'll still feel valuable even when they're gone because she had wanted to place a single one to each of the tombstones in the nearby graveyard.
Marcille had approached her, wondering what that was supposed to mean and was about to say that it was unnecessary to do that when they've most likely passed on and that Falin’s gesture was kind but would go unnoticed by the dead.
Then Falin, who was still crouched down while picking flowers, turned to her and flashed her a smile, stretching an arm out to hand her a sunflower that looked healthy and well taken care of.
The sun kissed Falin. Warm orange dipped onto smooth, milky skin. Its shade along with the color of Falin’s dirty blonde hair complemented each other nicely. She looked beautiful.
“The color reminds me of your hair.” Falin giggled and Marcille slowly accepted the flower, her heart threatening to beat out of her ribcage from how strong it pounded. She curls her toes, feeling shy and flustered, because from this angle, she can see just how princely her best friend appeared.
She wished it wasn’t only the sun that kissed Falin.
‘No. No! What are you thinking? That’s your best friend. Are you insane?’
She choked on air and began to sputter because of her own wretched thoughts about her best friend. She had excused herself and quickly left, bidding goodbye to Falin and wishing her a safe journey to the graveyard, making sure to tell her that the dead would appreciate the flower she’ll give them this time, not wanting to stay any longer and fluster herself.
And now she locked herself in their bedroom stressing about the fact that she was having these kinds of thoughts for Falin who has been nothing but sweet and kind to her. How could she view her like that? Thinking about kissing your best friend, is that even okay?
“Isn’t that.. predatory?” She whispered to herself. Wasn’t it predatory to want to kiss your best friend who treats you well and probably even looks up to you as an older sister – which god, that is so bad.
She can’t have these kinds of thoughts. Sure, she had a teeny tiny crush on Falin when they were younger, but that was only puppy love, that crush disappeared (probably) years ago. And now it’s come crashing back, hitting her square in the face like she’s a sandbag for a boxing practice.
“Falin..” She murmured to herself, gazing at her hands. She can see in the corner of her eye where the sunflower laid motionless on the desk. Every time she looks at it she can see Falin’s stupidly adorable face.
“What a nuisance.” She groaned.
She begins to fiddle with her fingers, attempting to distract her mind from what happened earlier. She reacted weirdly. Maybe she’s just feeling ill, after all, she did get targeted by that one monster out of everyone in the party.
She decides that laying down on the bed and covering herself with a blanket was the best option she could go with. She can sleep it off. Like she always does whenever something bothers her. It’ll be her problem when she wakes up, but not now, not now.
She grabs the pillow and wraps her arms. In the other section of her brain imagined it was Falin, and she shut her eyes at the thought, curling in on the pillow and burying her face in it. The subtle smell of lemon, Falin’s shampoo, lingered in her nose.
‘Ah, maybe this could be Falin. Probably.’
‘Hopefully.’
Marcille Donato doesn’t like having crushes. She doesn’t like the feeling of being infatuated with someone, it’s a feeling that she noticed in her mother. Her mother was so infatuated, so head-over-heels with her husband that she completely forgot about the daughter that she had carried for months and pushed out of her body. Infatuation made her mother absent. She doesn’t want to be like that. She doesn’t want to neglect her studies and lose her crown as the top student in the academy, it’s a title that she’s worked so earnestly hard for. She could not afford that.
So she sticks to being interested in characters in the books she reads. Sometimes, there would be drawings of them to give the readers a clear picture of what they look like, other times, there would only be descriptions describing their physical appearance and Marcille would often visualize them in her head.
That route worked for years until she began to look at her classmates’ faces properly.
She was in her teenage years by then when she found another girl pretty. She had long black hair and a pair of yellow earrings that had a similar color as Falin’s hair. Her name was Cyre. She was bubbly, outgoing, and loud. She was considered as the popular girl in their batch for befriending everyone, including Falin, who shied away from any form of attention from anyone she wasn’t close with.
She remembers talking to Falin about Cyre, subtly preaching that the girl seemed like someone she wouldn’t mind spending time with, until Falin mindlessly commented about how condescending and patronizing Cyre talked to her whenever they were alone.
Marcille could easily mirror the same expression and feeling she felt when Falin revealed that to her, how startled Falin got when she realized what left her mouth and how she tried to retract her words just so Marcille could build a connection with Cyre, saying that she didn’t want to get in the way of her making friends with other people.
It’s best to say that the friendship she was planning to have with Cyre never happened, and the girl’s chances of being a potential love interest dropped to zero.
(Marcille forgot the words she wanted to say, her tongue twisting up in anger the moment Cyre knocked on her door, remembering everything Falin opened up to her, and punched her directly in the face)
(Falin had to chant a spell to heal the bruise on her knuckles right after the incident occurred)
When morning came, Marcille found herself blinking hazily, awoken by the sun that dared to peer through the blinds, shining brightly. She groaned, turning around and away from the light, only to come face to face with Falin’s sleeping face, the tranquil expression on her soft features froze Marcille on the spot.
It’s been a while since she’s last seen Falin like this. The last time she did was when they were kids, throughout the years they grew up together, Falin grew shyer and became more meek despite the love and attention other adventurers harbored for her due to her kindness and empathy that stretched and extended to other people.
Now that she can look at Falin, she gets a proper view of the changes.
Falin’s fair, beautiful, and soft skin remained despite the amount of times she wasn’t careful with taking care of herself. Her naturally rosy cheeks that Marcille has admired ever since she’s seen them when they met in the academy toned down slightly compared to when they were younger. Her dirty blonde hair that was cut by Laios was a mess, the strands sticking out everywhere, her overgrown bangs covering her eyes slightly.
‘Ah, I should cut her hair next time..’
Marcille could feel her lips curling upwards at the sight, her hand reaching up to brush away the bangs, her limbs stiffening when Falin groans in response, suddenly wrapping an arm around her and pulled her effortlessly until she was pressed against the tall-man who snuggled into her like she was a body-sized teddy bear.
The tip of her ears turned red at the action before it sagged down in embarrassment, hiding it by burying her face into the crook of Falin’s neck, allowing the taller woman to hold her unconsciously.
‘This isn’t so bad. I didn’t start this anyway. Falin did.’
‘So.. I’m not in the wrong, am I?’
She dozes off in Falin’s arms a few minutes after breathing in the smell of lemons and unscented body wash.
The second time her feelings got in the way was when a new guy came to join the party.
Nakamoto Toshiro is his name. And he’s been glued in Falin’s side like a barnacle. And she hates it. He’s always there standing beside Falin like he’s some sort of a personal bodyguard and as much as she appreciates that he’s keen on protecting Falin, she disliked the fact that he was treating her like she's vulnerable glassware, but she would appreciate it even more if he stopped being so.. Clingy .
He was like the prince that the novels she reads always mention. A strong and brave prince who’s ready to sacrifice his life to protect his beloved princess. Except Falin doesn’t need a prince. She can handle herself. She’s as much of a healer as much as she inflicts damage to anyone who dares come close to Marcille or Laios with bad intentions.
If Shuro was considered to be a prince that came straight out of a novel, Marcille would’ve shut the book closed and burnt it into ashes without a second thought.
(Not that she hates him, he’s just really annoying to look at most of the time)
She can’t even talk to Falin without finding him standing somewhere nearby, like he’s always on the lookout and it is so annoying. He’s like a dog wanting to constantly be with their owner no matter the circumstances, and the worst part is? Falin doesn’t even notice it.
Sure, Shuro’s a pretty decent guy. He doesn’t make too many demands and he’s reserved, Marcille will give him that, but that doesn’t make it any better because all she wants is to be with her best friend for at least three hours without seeing him anywhere remotely close to them.
“Falin–”
“Falin, would you like a piece of meat?” Shuro spoke, offering a piece of sliced meat to Falin who smiled and thanked him.
Marcille’s eye twitched at the sight and she shrugs it off, silencing herself by filling her mouth with rice, her gaze locked and loaded on Shuro. If looks could kill, the guy would probably be bleeding on the floor of the dining room right now.
He’s sitting beside Falin again, like he always does, when it was supposed to be her who was sitting there, not him. It was supposed to be her who was going to offer more food to Falin and even feed it to her while Chilchuck would roll his eyes and mumble under his breath, something about PDA or whatever.
Senshi must’ve noticed her foul mood and started to talk about how he prepared the dish, trying to lift up the heavy atmosphere in hopes that Falin and Shuro wouldn’t notice the elven girl who was practically seething in her seat, almost snapping her chopsticks in half from how tightly she gripped it, knuckles white.
“So, we should go replenish our supplies tomorrow.” Laios announced, taking another bite of his meal. “Let’s split up into twos so that we can get the job done faster.” He looks around at everyone at the table. “How does that sou–” “I will accompany Fali–”
“ No. ”
The word slipped past Marcille’s lips before she could even think about it. A frown and a determined look is etched on her features and that startles the rest of the team who took note of the rare irritation present on her face. Most of the time, the normal they were used to is the anxious and habitually complaining Marcille.
“Falin’s mine.” She stated, the words dawning on her the moment she says it out loud and she immediately backtracks in a panic. “I mean– I mean she’s going to be my partner. You know what I mean?” She chuckled, attempting to hide the nervous gulp she did when she accidentally locked eyes with Falin for a moment.
Shuro scrunched his nose up, clearly against the idea of Marcille and Falin being partners instead of him and the latter. But he doesn’t show it for long, deciding to glance at Falin who seemed delighted at the idea.
“Very well.” He sighed in defeat. “I will accompany Namari instead.”
The dwarf in return raised a brow. “What’s up with the tone, hotshot?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink. “If you don’t feel like going, I can do it alone.”
Shuro shakes his head. “That would be unnecessary.”
‘Serves you right.’
She hides her grin behind her bowl, feeling giddy that she finally has the chance to spend time with Falin without Shuro nearby and ruining it because he can’t get himself away from her best friend.
“Of course.” Falin spoke up with that gentle smile of hers. “Let’s visit the village in an hour.”
Marcille nods, trying to hide her excitement and ignore the subtle disappointment that lingered above Shuro’s head. She finally has Falin with her without that supposedly picture perfect guy that his confidants described and praised him to be.
A boastful and shit eating grin formed on her face as she hummed in agreement.
An hour later, they were walking to the village together with Marcille clinging onto Falin’s arm, wanting to be as close to her as possible, missing the familiar warmth that Falin had always carried around.
“Marcille.”
She doesn’t bother turning her head. “Hm?”
There was a slight pause in the air while they continued to walk, the silence made Marcille look up to the other blonde confusedly.
“Falin?”
She can see the obvious worry on Falin’s face. She halts her tracks, making Falin stop as well. “Is there something bothering you?”
“Well uh, let’s see..” Falin started. “Has someone ever proposed to you?”
A pregnant silence was in the atmosphere. Marcille stares at her incredulously, as if she was far too baffled to even register what that question meant. “What?” She blinked. “What do you mean? Did someone propose to you?”
Falin hesitantly nodded in reply.
Marcille takes a leap. “It’s Shuro, isn’t it?” And her face immediately dims when she receives another nod. “The guy’s been with us for five months. Not even half a year yet, and he’s already proposed?” Falin stayed silent, knowing full well that Marcille was right and there was no denying that fact.
“Did he court you?” Falin shakes her head. “No, he.. Often compliments me.”
“That’s not courting.” Marcille groaned and clung into Falin closer, a sense of possessiveness filling her insides at the thought of Shuro proposing to Falin without even courting her. Seriously, who does he think he is? Did he think Falin was easy enough to get that he assumed she would accept him without even proving himself worthy of her hand?
Marcille reads a variety of books with different genres. She reads romance. She reads fairy tales. She knows Falin does too. They both read The Relation to Desperation more than thrice, and she can guarantee that Shuro does not fit the criteria, he’s not even remotely close to it.
‘The fucking audacity.’
If anything, Falin deserved more. She deserves someone who would fight for her hand, someone who would put in the effort rather than throwing around compliments (it’s the easiest thing to do) and standing like a bodyguard.
‘Shuro is no prince. More like the second male lead for all I care.’
Marcille gritted her teeth. He was no prince. He never seemed like it. In fact, she’s more of a prince than he is. She can fight for Falin’s hand and show her love and care by putting effort into actually courting her.
The amount of times she had scared off every other adventurer and bar regulars who would whistle and catcall Falin can’t be counted with just her fingers. She sent another idiot flying after he challenged her to fight him for Falin’s hand. She made a grown man cry and get his ass beat by an angry Laios after he constantly tried to pursue Falin after she deliberately rejected his advances. She practices the spells Falin teaches her. She would prepare food for Falin when the tall-man hasn’t returned from dungeon hunting with her brother. She would stay up and wait for Falin until she came back.
At this point, she’s more of a spouse than Shuro could ever imagine himself to be.
“Are you into him?”
‘Are you going to accept his proposal?’
Marcille dreaded the answer. Her fingers curled around the sleeve of Falin’s coat, staying silent and hoping that she would say no – because that was the most sensible thing to do after all. But when she looks back on Falin and Shuro’s interactions, the woman never seemed to be upset or uncomfortable whenever Shuro’s around. The image of them being together sent shivers down her spine.
‘Falin? As Shuro’s wife? What next? He’s going to take her to his homeland and I’ll never see her again because his family’s going to be so uptight about who the bride will meet?’
She doesn’t realize that she’s clutching onto Falin like a terrified puppy, not wanting to be left alone, as if the thought would kill her, moreover if it actually happens.
‘Please say no, please say no, please say no. He’s just some guy. I can scare him off for you if you want me to like I did with the rest.’
“No.” Falin answered. It snapped Marcille out of her trance. “Huh?”
“No, I’m.. I’m not into him that way.”
‘Oh shit.’
‘Thank goodness.’
“Ah.. Is that so?” She cleared her throat to hide the relief and excitement in her voice. Shuro has no chance with Falin – that was a win for her and a loss for Shuro.
“But.. I feel like no one would propose to me ever again.” Falin continued solemnly. “I mean, I did have a marriage prepared for me by my parents but that was called off when I enrolled in the Magic Academy, and years later, Shuro came, if I rejected him then I’m scared that no one would ask me anymore..”
‘Okay, the celebration of my win is postponed for the time being.’
“But, at the same time, I don’t want to be dishonest with my feelings for him.” Falin sighed.
The elven woman quietly nodded.
“I think..” Marcille spoke. “That you should tell him that you’re going to think about it.”
Falin hummed in acknowledgement before they continued to make their way to the village. The atmosphere wasn’t heavy but it wasn’t calm either. Marcille could tell how much Falin worried about what she’s going to decide. And maybe – Marcille thinks – she shouldn’t celebrate her supposed win when her friend was dwelling on it so much.
Still, her mind drifted off to different scenes where she imagined Falin being Shuro’s wife. Would Falin be happy with that? Would she feel suffocated? Would she feel guilty for accepting him out of fear of being alone for the rest of her life? Would she feel relieved and eventually fall in love with him?
Considering Shuro’s noble family, he obviously has a high and respected position in his homeland. Would Falin be reduced to only being called as his wife? Would she be okay with being nothing more than his wife?
She doesn’t want to stand in the way of Falin’s happiness. Having these kinds of thoughts about her rather than imagining that she’ll be content and happy in her marriage with Shuro makes her an absolutely despicable person who’s wishing nothing but the downfall of someone they’re close to.
‘Am I sabotaging Falin’s happiness?’
The thought makes her stomach churn. And suddenly, she doesn’t feel so happy anymore. Insecurity and fear filled her senses and she couldn’t help but steal glances at Falin, watching the woman with an aching heart.
It’s not like she was trying to get with Falin. Sure, there’s lingering touches and glances that stretch way more than necessary, but she knows that it’s just adoration, that’s normal between friends, especially if that’s someone you’ve been friends with for a long time. It’s not something that should be considered as a lover’s actions.
Besides, girls can’t love girls, not in that way at least. She knows that.
So why does it seem like she’s trying to keep Falin Touden for herself only?
She can’t make up an excuse to justify her behavior. She doesn’t know what or how to. She’s never felt this way before. She didn’t feel this way either when she saw Cyre kissing a guy when she claimed to have a crush on her. She didn’t feel jealous or possessive over Cyre. Even Falin wondered why she didn’t when she had constantly gushed over Cyre’s beauty and personality before she found out how she treated Falin.
‘Why am I not reacting the way I reacted to Cyre? Why am I so bothered with thinking about Falin marrying Shuro?’
Who knows, maybe he really is the prince that Falin needs – the way every romantic novel would say that every single woman in the world had a prince waiting for them, all they need to do is to meet him halfway.
Maybe he can provide the kiss to make you weak in the knees that Falin has always fantasized about for a long time and she was in the way of letting her get that.
No, no surely she was just looking out for Falin. She wouldn’t want her best friend to be in an unhappy marriage. She didn’t want Falin to feel stuck and suffocated in her marriage. She’s just giving her advice to think more rationally before making a very big decision that can change her life, for better or for worse.
She doesn’t want to get with Falin. She’s not trying to. She’s not trying to keep Falin to herself. She’s just acting the way a friend would.
‘Ah, I should get back to reading romantic novels again. Maybe I can get some advice there to explain whatever I’m feeling.’
Because god forbid Marcille Donato actually talks to someone about her feelings. Her fear of judgement and lack of personal connections stops her from doing so. She finds it hard to trust other people. And she will certainly not talk to Falin about this. The tall-man has had enough on her plate, she doesn’t need any more baggage.
There’s a knock on the door that wakes Marcille from her nap.
“Eh?” She croaked out, sitting up, rubbing her eyes, her ears drooped down. “Who is it? Falin?” She called, gazing at the wooden door, still hazy from her sleep. The door pushes open and Falin’s head peeks in, her hair’s wet, and there’s a towel on her shoulders.
“Marcille.” She called with her sweet and gentle voice. And for some reason, her rosy cheeks and recently-got-out-of-the-shower look shakes away any sleepiness that was left in Marcille’s system.
Her eyes dropped down when she noticed the towel, red dusting her cheeks immediately that crawled up to the tip of her ears when she noticed that Falin was fully dressed.
‘Why did I look down? Was I expecting her to be naked or something?!’
She clamps a hand over her mouth and averted her gaze, embarrassed and ashamed to have those kinds of inappropriate thoughts about her best friend.
Falin steps inside the room, shutting the door behind her and approaching the bed.
“Did you enjoy your nap?” Marcille nodded. “Did you just get back from the village? I’m sorry I had to get back early, I suddenly started feeling dizzy.” She spoke apologetically. She felt guilty for seemingly abandoning Falin after insisting that she and Falin went as a pair to the village but she had to excuse herself after a spike of sickness struck her hard.
“Yes.” Falin nodded. “Laios and the others haven’t returned yet.” She added, climbing into the bed, the towel on her shoulders falling off in the process.
It takes her a moment to process the fact that Falin was crawling towards her. She doesn't get to react before Falin puts a hand on her shoulder and gently pushes her back into the stack of pillows she was leaning on.
“We're alone.” Falin breathed, opening her eyes, showing that beautiful shade of yellow that Marcille still hasn't figured out how to get.
“Y-Yeah?” Marcille stammered and she can feel smoke oozing out of her head from how flustered she was by this sudden display of boldness. Falin was never the forward type, what was with this sudden change?
“That means no Laios.” Falin spoke, parting Marcille’s thighs with her knee. “No Chilchuck.” She cages the elf in her arms, keeping her pinned against the pillows. “No Shuro.”
Marcille’s eyes widened, her heart pounding out of her chest. “What.. What's gotten into you?” She squeaked out.
Her breath hitched when Falin cupped her cheek and leaned down. “Something that I've been wanting to do for a long time.” And all the air in her lungs is captured by Falin. Her lips captured Marcille’s into a gentle and soft kiss. Marcille’s ears twitched at the feeling and she closed her eyes, savoring the taste of cherry chapstick and mangoes.
Her head reeled when Falin pushed her further into the pillows to deepen the kiss, slipping a tongue in and eliciting a startled moan from her, growing increasingly dizzy the longer they made out on the bed. Falin’s touch was kind and gentle, her thumb caressing Marcille’s skin, touching her like she was a sculpture that was crafted with so much care. When they pulled away, a gasp threatened to rip out of the elf’s throat when she felt a hand on her hip, Falin’s eyes lingering on her trembling lips.
‘What the hell is happening?’
‘Is this how it feels like to be kissed?’
And maybe, just maybe, that the true love’s kiss that every romantic fairy tale that she’s read was all right. It did feel amazing, it did make her heart pound loudly in her ears, and it certainly made her want more of it.
Her fingers reached up to grasp the back of Falin’s neck, pulling her, drawing her back in for another. “A-Ah..” She panted. “Falin–” But then water begins to drip from Falin’s wet hair and onto her face. She blinks, surprised. Falin’s smiling at her, it looked mischievous and she didn’t know whether to feel excited by it or nervous.
Either way, it did wake her up from her dream.
She blinked. Falin wasn’t on top of her, and instead it was the lights in the ceiling. She took a deep breath, gazing at it like it had wronged her.
‘Oh.’
There was no way she had that kind of dream of her best friend of all people. No fucking way.
‘At least it wasn’t a wet dream, right?”
She takes a cautious look around the room, wondering if Falin had returned from the village since she had to retire for the day after a spike of migraine occurred earlier. She’s alone and she sighs at that. Now she gets the chance to dwell on what she just dreamed about.
She never saw Falin like that. She’s not into girls. Her mother had made it clear to her when she was younger that love can only exist between a man and a woman. Therefore, anything that doesn’t fit that standard was deemed abnormal and immoral.
Maybe she really was feeling ill. These past few days she’s been looking at Falin differently. She’s looking at her the way Shuro does. The way a man does. And that was just wrong and out of character for her to do as a woman. Why was she preying on her best friend so shamelessly? She’s no better than those men who eye Falin like she’s a piece of meat waiting to be devoured by anyone dominant. It doesn’t help the fact that Falin is often submissive who struggles to be firm with her decisions after growing up in a town that hated and looked down on her ever since she was born.
Falin was oblivious and dense. She’s similar to Laios who struggles to pick up on social cues. And most of the time, those that willingly associate themselves with her always had an ulterior motive with their interest in taking advantage of Falin’s kindness for whatever sick plans they have in mind. Marcille doesn’t want to believe that she’s like those people that come and go in Falin’s life, she doesn’t want to be considered a creep – if she could just stop looking and imagining these inappropriate thoughts in her head about Falin, then maybe she’d be better than all those assholes.
But right now, she’s no better than them. Here she was, laying on their bed in the room that they share, replaying the image of Falin kissing and making out with her after realizing that they were both alone in the house that Laios rented for the party. It doesn’t help the fact that she was laying her head on Falin’s pillow and the smell of the woman’s shampoo was stronger than ever.
‘Had she always smelled this good?’
She knows that the guilt will fester faster than she’ll anticipate. Laios trusted her to protect Falin, and yet she’s already breaking that trust by eyeing his beloved little sister in a different light. She knows that she’s breaking Falin’s trust as well. She trusts her to be herself around her, believing that she sees her as a platonic childhood friend and yet she can’t even do that because of these stupid feelings that she didn’t even know she had.
“Maybe..” She spoke quietly to herself. “Maybe I just need a partner.”
‘Maybe I’m just deprived and getting needy, that’s why I’m beginning to delude myself into thinking I’m into my own best friend.’
Besides, that’s a line she would never dare cross with Falin. They’re friends. And strictly friends. Nothing more, nothing less. She will use everything within her power to make sure it stays that way because she can never ever afford to see Falin as more and for Falin to change the way she sees her.
She drapes an arm over her eyes, feeling her chest well up in grief for the feelings that she’s beginning to hate. “Goddamn it, Marcille.”
One thing about Marcille Donato is that she’s great at coming up with solutions to problems – in fact, she’s practically a genius.
“You’re planning to see other people?”
Her heart sinks slightly when she sees the confused and worried look on Chilchuk’s face after her declaration of wanting to explore her options in the romantic field.
“It’s not like I’m leaving the party, Chil.” She reassured quietly, offering the brunette a weak smile. “I just want to go and check if I can see other people, you know?” Chilchuck gazed at her silently before finally understanding what she meant. “Ah, you want to go and date?”
Her cheeks flushed red at the bluntness. “Precisely, yes.”
“For what? As far as I know, you’re not exactly interested in going out to meet other people.” He commented, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch, putting a leg above the other. “Since when?”
Chilchuck alway seemed like he was unbothered to personal affairs, including towards his co-members, but Marcille knew deep down that he did care and was looking out for everyone, since he’s a dad, it’s only natural for him to build a sense of protectiveness over his fellow members, especially the younger ones like her and Falin, he sees them like his daughters but would never dare admit that.
“I don’t know.” She answered, beginning to fiddle with her fingers. “Maybe I’m just.. In that phase?”
Chilchuck hummed, his gaze maintained on her. “You remind me too much of my daughters.”
‘Bingo.’
“I didn’t know elves had their teenage phases.” Chilchuck continued.
“I’m an adult.” She clarified in case the man forgot about that. “I know, but you didn’t show any interest in dating when you were a teen. At least, that’s what I recall from Falin’s stories.” He sighed. “Well, you can do whatever you want, Marcille, I won’t stop you. Just tell the others beforehand and don’t stay out too late.” He spoke as he rose from the couch.
“Oh, and before you choose someone you want to settle down with, assuming that you are, introduce ‘em to us.” He added before walking away, a stern fatherly tone lacing his voice.
Oh.
That never occurred to Marcille before. Settling down seemed like a beautiful thing to do, it might even give her peace of mind knowing that she didn’t have to travel anywhere, everywhere, all at once and risk her life to dungeon hunt with the rest of the party. But then again, she’s happy to be there, to dive into dungeons and hunt for treasures with the people she cherishes, she doesn’t want to trade that for a future that she hasn’t imagined herself to have yet. And besides, settling down seemed a little scary. Would her partner ask her to stay at home while they go and bring back money and resources? Would she be stuck there, alone and waiting, reminiscing quietly about how good of an adventurer she would’ve been if only she didn’t leave?
She never imagined herself to be a housewife, moreover she never imagined herself to be in a school teaching children about magic. As much as she loved magic, talking about it and teaching it are two different things. She doesn’t want to stay behind closed doors for hours when she could be fighting monsters and showing off everything she learned about in combat and in the field.
She watches Chilchuk’s small figure retreating back to the kitchen where his steaming coffee waits on the dining table.
Tonight, she plans to go to the village, go to the bar, order a non-alcoholic drink (because she’s a lightweight) and wait until someone approaches her without being a complete asshole about it.
Or maybe she should go and approach someone instead and ask if they want to go grab a drink with her. Whatever is the best thing to do, she’ll decide on it when she gets to her destination.
She’s so caught up in preparing for the night that she forgets to tell the others about it.
She’s in the bar, feeling cautious and nervous because she doesn’t have her staff with her, she had to leave it behind just in case it scares off potential lovers that would try and talk to her because she was armed, she totally does not want that to happen.
“Ah, hi, I’d like to have a glass of water, please.” She spoke politely to the bartender who raised a brow, eyeing her like she was some sort of anomaly for going to a bar and asking for water. Still, he nodded and went to get her a glass before sliding it in front of her without question.
Marcille thanks him quietly, taking a sip, frowning slightly when she realizes that there was no ice. Strange, usually there would be, wouldn’t it?
Before she could even react or ask about the ice, a guy with black hair sits down next to her, reeking of cigarettes. She scrunched her nose at the smell, it’s been a while since she’s come close to a smoker before. She spares him a quick and subtle glance, noticing that he’s also a tall-man with sharp features. He looks older than both the Touden siblings, perhaps by a decade.
His beard was ragged and he looks like he hasn’t slept for a while with how dark the bags were under his eyes. Marcile took note of that before she averts her eyes and takes another sip of her drink in silence.
Eventually, the man decides to talk to her. “So,” He spoke, his voice deep and broody, twisting his body to face Marcille. “What brings you here, sweetheart?”
She had to force a smile hearing that. She wasn’t used to being called with pet names.
“Uh, hello.” She greeted nervously. “You’re not familiar, is this your first time here?” She nodded her head. “Yes, actually.”
“And you’re alone?”
‘Ah, that’s not a good start.’
She cleared her throat and looked away. “No, I’ve got friends.” She answered. The man hummed and rested his cheek on the palm of his hand while his elbow was perched on the wooden counter. “An elf.” He stated the obvious. “I’m assuming you’re not from here, are ya? I’ve never seen a blonde elf in the village before. An adventurer, maybe?” Marcille doesn’t answer his questions, and instead continues to take tiny sips of her drink without looking at him.
She can feel the man’s eyes lingering on her, eyeing her up and down, analyzing her like a specimen. Is this how Falin always felt whenever they go out? Is this how she felt every time she was subjected to the male gaze that she never asked for?
“I’m Sylvester.” The man introduced himself. “Call me Syl. And you are?”
“Marcille.” She answered quietly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Syl.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, little elf.” Oh, she did not like his tone. There was a slight smirk plastered on his face that she couldn’t tell if he was trying to hide or not – like he’s planning something. It makes her uncomfortable.
“So, you’ve got a boyfriend?” He continued to ask. “You’re a beautiful elven lady, surely there must be suitors waiting in line for you?” She scrunched her nose up at the idea. She’s never the type to be romantically connected to anyone, any suitors that she used to have in the past were always rejected without a second thought just so she could focus on her studies.
“”No.” She shakes her head. “Not at all.”
And maybe that was the wrong answer. Because she can see Sylvester grinning ear to ear after hearing the revelation.
“You’re down for a hookup, then?” He chuckled, running his finger around the rim of his shot glass. “I know a pretty private spot that we can go to if you’d like. There’s not that many people.”
Marcille doesn’t remember this. She doesn’t remember these kinds of situations ever occurring in the romantic novels and fairy tales that she reads. The princes never did this, they never offered a hookup, they would ask for the princess’ permission if they could court her and win her love – or risk his life to defend and protect her from any threats that would endanger her life.
Now that she’s sitting here, in a bar that reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, surrounded by drunkards who want to drink the night away, it finally dawned on her that princesses don’t find their true love here. They would never find their prince drunk out of their minds in a bar.
‘What in the world am I doing here?’
She takes a deep breath.
‘Why did I ever think I’d find my prince here?’
“Now that I think about it, it’s getting pretty late.” She spoke, making an attempt to get up from her sweat. “I need to go and retire for the night. It’s nice meeting you, Sylves–” She’s interrupted by a hand that catches her wrist, stopping her from leaving.
“Where are you going?” Sylvester’s grip was hard. It’s been a while since Marcille had been held this forcefully before. She’s grown used to Falin’s soft and gentle grip that the feeling of someone latching onto her so tightly it could make her bruise, dropped on her like a bombshell.
“Home.” She answered, trying to yank her wrist back. “Hey, can you let go of me?” She asked as politely as ever. She didn’t want to make a scene in the bar, she doubts that even if she did, no one would step up and help her, most of the patrons were intoxicated and blacked out.
“No, I’m not done talking to you.” Sylvester spoke firmly. “Get back here.” He said irritatedly, tugging Marcille so harshly that she almost crashed against the counter.
“You're hurting me.” She whimpered, hating and regretting the fact that she didn't bring her staff with her. If she casted a spell with just her hands, she'll struggle to aim it and it'll be inaccurate despite the short distance between them. She doesn't want to risk hurting the innocents if she ends up failing to control the mana she’ll summon.
It doesn't help the fact that the man was a lot stronger than her physically. She's a mage, she's not used to close combat like Laios. She gritted her teeth, trying to push him off of her.
“I fucking told you I'm not done with you yet.” He seethed, looking so angry he popped a vein. His rage seemed to be enhanced by the alcohol that he couldn't think straight. His display of anger almost paralyzes Marcille in fear until the tip of a blade is pressed against his throat.
Her eyes widened. The blade was familiar.
‘Laios’s sword.’
She turned her head to look, expecting the leader of the party, and instead, she found Falin dressed in shorts that had a tiny heart imprinted on the fabric and Laios’s shirt. Her eyes are open and those golden hues glared with an unspeakable wrath that Marcille has never seen before. Falin looked like she just got out of bed, the messy hair says it all. But that's not what surprises her, what surprises her is the fact that she was threatening to kill someone with Laios’s sword, the lack of trembling of her arm shows how willing she is to pull through with the plan.
Falin doesn't say anything, staying silent, and that makes her even scarier knowing that she just appeared out of nowhere and pointed her brother’s sword against a stranger’s neck with no hesitation.
‘Woah. Holy shit.’
Marcille's face flushed red almost immediately after seeing and hearing Falin like this. Falin was a mage, a magic user who specializes in healing and restorement magic – seeing her holding a weapon other than her staff stirred something in the elf’s stomach. Deep down, she knows she doesn't mind seeing Falin like this again, so ready to strike, so ready to kill, for her.
Sylvester quickly retracts his hand away, afraid of what the blonde was capable of.
“I told you I was with someone.” Marcille spoke, pretending like Falin was with her the whole time. “Fuck off next time.” He doesn't say anything else anymore, he doesn't protest when Marcille gets up and begins to walk away, fighting the urge to call out to her to bring her friend with her so she could stop pushing the blade closer to his skin.
Eventually, Marcille realizes that Falin remained still, continuing to gaze at him until she breaks her out of her stupor by gently tugging her away from the counter and then out of the bar.
It was only when they were outside that Marcille realized that Falin didn't even bother bringing the scabbard for Laios’s sword, she just brought the blade with her and walked to the bar in the dead of night, knowing full well that there were no lights around the village due to its shortcomings. In the eyes of a passerby, they'd most likely assume that she was a killer who planned to wipe out the whole town.
They walked in silence. Falin’s grip hasn’t eased.
“Falin?” Marcille called quietly, sparing occasional glances at the tall-man. “Is everything okay?” Falin doesn’t even turn her head, her eyes gliding to her. “Are you okay?”
She can feel her mouth dry at the question Falin tossed back. She couldn’t tell whether that was a sarcastic remark or not. Falin’s never been this serious with her. It’s almost like this was a different person she’s with.
“Kind of?” She answered hesitantly. Falin stops walking and places the sword down on the ground. She holds Marcille’s hand, her grip so tender, so humane, compared to Sylvester’s. Falin holds her own hand out near Marcille’s bruised wrist, chanting a spell under her breath, and Marcille watches in awe how effortlessly Falin casted that, how the white light emitting through her fingers appeared like seeping liquid.
The purple on her skin disappears in a second. She glances up at Falin, thanking her for healing the bruise. Falin sighed, her shoulders sagging like she was holding her breath the entire time throughout that whole ordeal back in the bar.
“I was worried that you haven’t come home yet.” Falin spoke, her fingers still intertwined with Marcille’s even when she bent down to pick up her brother’s sword. “It was past midnight. Chilchuck told me that you went out.” Marcille’s cheeks flared red, growing embarrassed that Falin got out of bed and went out of her way to get her. “And you thought I went dungeon hunting?” She asked playfully. “Yes, but then Chilchuck said that you were out on a date.”
Marcille raised a brow. “So you brought a sword instead?”
Falin nodded like it was the obvious answer. She really didn’t see anything wrong with bringing a weapon to pick up your friend from a date.
Marcille noticed that Falin wouldn’t budge and sighed. “Alright.” She spoke, clinging onto the woman again. “Let’s go home.” She yawned. “I’m getting sleepy.”
She can try to look for a partner again. Just not in a bar next time.
The third time Marcille Donato’s feelings got in the way was when Chilchuck began to notice how much she paid attention to Falin and how longer her gaze lingered on her.
She never once considered the fact that Chilchuck could be observant, let alone take note of his co-members’ behaviors since he was always so detached from the team and would only participate if it involved dungeon hunting and picking locks.
And she never once considered hiding and being less obvious about the glances and stares that she made. Just how obvious was she being? Did Laios and the others notice too or was it only Chilchuck? She can’t imagine how Shuro would react – how Falin would react. Would she be disgusted? Would she be disturbed? To know that her best friend looked at her in a different light? She’s read about how uncomfortable other people get whenever they find out that their own friends looked at them differently, she doesn’t want to put Falin in that kind of situation, that’s the last thing she wanted to do to ruin their friendship.
She finds herself sitting face to face with the man once again on the living room couch. They had a staring contest, waiting to see who would do the first move and strike a conversation with each other – Marcille can’t seem to do it, not when she’s too embarrassed and ashamed for the way she acted when Shuro asked to be alone with Falin in the private bath.
Chilchuck remained stoic, taking occasional sips of his coffee, his gaze locked on the elf who grew uncomfortable each second that passed. The atmosphere was heavy between them, and she thanked the gods for blessing her with the presence of Laios, because now she knows that he took his little sister to accompany him to sell the treasures that they obtained back in the dungeon.
“So,” Chilchuck started. “What happened back there?”
“What happened with what?”
“Don’t play dumb Marcille, you know what I’m talking about.”
“It’s a misunderstanding really.”
Chilchuck seemed unconvinced. “How was that a misunderstanding?” He asked.
“Hey, I mean, how would you react if some guy just randomly asked your friend to be alone in the bath with him?” Marcille tossed back, playing the role of an overprotective friend. She didn’t want to seem imposing or possessive, she had no right to, not that she ever would even if she was hypothetically dating Falin.
‘Still, it’s a nice thought.’
“I’d be surprised, but I wouldn’t have a flip switch in me.” Chilchuck responded. “I mean, you basically sent Shuro flying across the room when he said that. Falin had to check up on him when he said he couldn’t get up.” Marcille rolled her eyes. “I remembered that he’s always wanted to know what it felt like to fly. I just casted a spell and wanted to give him that experience.”
“By paralyzing him for five seconds?”
“Five seconds wasn’t even enough.” She huffed.
“Seriously, I-I just don’t get it.” Chilchuck spoke. “If you’re into Shuro, you should just tell him. You don’t have to let your jealousy take over and put him in his place. I don’t think he’s into those try hard to get types.”
Ah.
“What? Y-You really think I like Shuro?” Marcille asked, completely baffled. How did Chillchuck get that idea in the first place? Was he not looking too intently? Still, Marcille was glad deep down that he didn’t hit the target on that one. It’d be a complete disaster if he even began suspecting that she was into a woman.
“Yeah, it’s so obvious that even Laios has noticed.” He grimaced. “Talk to him. Your jealousy’s not gonna help with your confession to him. He probably already hates you for humiliating him in front of Falin. There’s no way he’d buy into your lie that an unknown force seeped through the dungeon’s walls and attacked him and only him out of everyone in that place.”
‘As long as he doesn’t find out, then I’m good.’
“Plus, Falin’s getting really worried.” He added. That grabs her attention.
“Worried? Why?” She asked.
“You’ve been acting weird these past few weeks, especially after that date of yours – actually, what happened to that? You didn’t talk about it and kept blabbering about how kind and sweet Falin is for picking you up at the dead of night.”
Have dads always been like this? She doesn’t remember her father being like this. But it doesn’t strike an ick in her for all the questions Chilchuck asked. He just wanted updates, like how a normal parent would ask about their children’s day.
The more she looked at him, the more he truly resembled a father instead of a lock picker that he confidently and obnoxiously boasted about. For a moment, she wonders whether his children were raised in a loving household – because honestly? He seemed like he’d be a good dad.
(A part of her wanted to meet his daughters, wondering whether they shared the same traits as him or not)
“Nothing. Just a misunderstanding happened. We didn’t work out. It wasn’t a date by the way.” She clarified quickly. “More like I met someone there and I didn’t like them personally and just thought that oh I don’t have time for this, next time maybe! ”
The man raised a brow, taking a cautious sip. “So.. what? You’re gonna put the dating thing on hold or something?” She nodded. “Probably yes, probably no.”
“I don’t know about you Marcille, but I think that you should try things out with Shuro.” He suggested. “You’re kind of looking pathetic every time Falin and Shuro interact. You look like you’ve been constipated for weeks at the mere sound of them talking.”
Marcille tries her best not to burst out laughing. A part of her was in disbelief that she was that clearly upset and the other part of her couldn't believe that Chilchuck was actually giving her advice to date Shuro. Seriously, Shuro, of all people.
“Right..” She nodded.
Chilchuck eyed her warily. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?” She shakes her head. “No. Not at all.”
The man shrugs. “Do whatever. I’m just saying that it’ll make your case a lot more easier if you follow my tips. I mean, you’re an elf, you're a lot older than me now that I think about it.” He trailed off in realization that the woman he’s been secretly viewing as a daughter was years older than him the entire entire time they’ve been travelling and dungeon hunting together.
“Holy shit, how old are you?!”
“You know, it’s very rude to ask a woman her age, Chilchuck.”
“I had no idea that that also applied to you, Marcille.”
“Now what is that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing! Forget it!”
Marcille doesn't consider herself to be forward. There are times wherein she's bold enough to confront someone about a pressing matter, but when it comes to her feelings, she'll back out immediately. She avoids conversations that involve her feelings like the plague.
Feelings were never acknowledged in the Donato Household. Her mother who had always been so infatuated with her husband, for some reason, that was an exception – perhaps her father needed that validation, maybe he needed to be reassured that his woman was in love with him despite his misdeeds and constant want for attention from other people.
Maybe her mother was aware of that too, that even despite her willing ignorance, she was trying to set herself as an example that Marcille should never follow. Even magic, the very thing she studies, must never be laced with emotion – magic has no morality, and she learned that the hard way.
So she pours all her feelings out to the novels she reads. Her romanticism is hidden behind a cover that will appear once opened. She keeps that strictly closed, refusing entry to anyone who dares to come near.
She thinks of Falin when she's reading the newest novel in town. The author described the kiss shared between the main character and their love interest as a magical union, a kiss to make one another vulnerable. A kiss to make you weak in the knees.
‘There’s that line again..’
Curiosity killed the cat – or in this case, curiosity killed the elf.
Because when she decided that she wanted to ask Falin about whether she ever experienced that kind of kiss, let alone had her first kiss, she walks in on her and Shuro dancing together with jazz music playing softly in the background. They’re alone, dancing.
Shuro’s hand was on Falin’s waist, holding her close while the tall-man’s hand was on his shoulder. Their other hands were clasped together while they danced in circles the way princesses and their princes would in a royal ball.
The sight makes Marcillle’s stomach twist into knots. She doesn’t know what to feel. It’s like an anvil has been dropped on her head from a great height while she’s already halfway submerged underwater. There’s that calm look on Falin’s face, like she’s content and happy – and maybe she is.
They haven’t noticed that she walked in yet. She doesn’t want them to. She stepped back and quietly closed the door. Feeling too afraid to even lock eyes with any of the two.
‘Why am I feeling like this?’
She knows she’s not supposed to. She doesn’t like Falin that way and neither does she even like Shuro, the best she can offer him is toleration. So what’s wrong now? Why was she feeling this churning in her gut like one of them had severely wronged her when they’ve never done anything wrong in the first place?
She took a deep breath and decided that a walk would be best fitted to clear her head.
But before she could even do that, the door burst open once more and Falin came stumbling out.
“Marcille!”
She turned her head, startled. “Eh? Falin?”
“Hi.” The blonde greeted her with her signature smile. “I forgot that Laios asked me to pick up something for dinner before we head down to the dungeon again.”
“We’re heading back to the dungeon?”
“Mhm, we’re gonna have to confront the red dragon. At least that’s what I last heard him say.”
Ah.
Fuck.