close to you

nothing gets the worms in my brain going quite like a good songfic idea!!! i love this song and i thought it had potential to be very moraghid. hope you'll like it ^_^

i.

It isn't a bird, but it's close enough-- a Light Flier, a bundle of spindly limbs and paper-thin wings, nearly transparent in the early light.
Flitting here and there as if examining the terrain for an optimal landing, it settles on the bare shoulder of the Jewel of Mor Ardain, of all places. Unruffled, Brighid casts her gaze downwards at the brazen thing. She's not one to let emotions play out on her face. Still, Mòrag's known her long enough to know the twitch of a smile when she sees one.

"Should you wish for me to... cast it away," Mòrag begins, unsure of the best approach, "I would be more than happy to assist."

The Flier twitches its wings, proboscis tilting up towards the sky as if to supplicate.

"I don't think that will be necessary." Brighid lifts her own slender finger, offers it to the insect with the same calculated elegance she shows to all other living creatures. "See? It behaves itself just fine." Indeed, just as she decreed it, the sticky feet shuffle their way onto the pad of Brighid's finger. "Be on your way now," says the Blade, and with a tiny puff of air, she sends the Flier back into orbit.

Mòrag, mesmerized by Brighid's tenderness and triumph, doesn't notice it making a beeline for her face until it's too late.

She could not possibly hope to handle it with so much grace.

After the encounter, while nursing the swollen bite on her cheek with a bit of ice, she reflects. Come to think of it, those creatures that claw and lunge her way never seem to do the same when it comes to Brighid. Why so? Are they cowed by the Jewel's presence, shrunk into submission by her regal airs like so many Ardainian soldiers?

Then her thoughts turn to the last time the two of them visited the farms in Gormott, when the whole Armu flock had sidled up beside Brighid for a pat on the snout, even the testiest of them.

She hadn't minded one bit, had even delighted in it, and Mòrag had made some comment or other about her perhaps having been a shepherdess in another life.

Natural ruler, natural nurturer. Brighid's reign extends to all kingdoms.

There's only one answer then, after all:

Just like me, they long to be close to you.

ii.

They go for walks at night on occasion, just the two of them. After a vexing day in the field, or maybe exhausted by hours upon hours of Senate meetings and all the focus and attention they require. The heat is bearable, the wind soothes, the air is filled with the sound of nocturnal things stirring.

There are very few occasions upon which Mòrag, typically wound tighter than a string, will allow herself to relax. Through years of observation, Brighid has managed to comprise a list of things that seem to put her lady at ease-- the first bite of a piping hot Quoteletta, for instance, or the brassy tones of a Steamwork Organ. But when the shop on the corner is out of stock, as it often is in wartime, and the orchestra have all been dispatched to conflict zones, a brisk night walk will have to suffice.

The Lady Mòrag is a woman of many faces: the hard mask of combat, the rigidity reserved for commanding her troops, the knitted brow for strategic quandaries. There are faces that appear on occasion around Brighid as well, ones she'd like to think belong to her alone.

The heat in Mor Ardain makes for perpetual perfect ice cream weather, and sometimes the two of them would indulge-- because she always ate with haste, Mòrag would end up with a speck near the corner of her mouth, and Brighid would reach out and dab at it with the corner of a napkin, quietly reveling in the flush that would rise almost instantly to her Driver's cheeks.

No, she doesn't very much like the idea of Mòrag looking at anyone else like that.

But there's no accompanying dessert for them tonight, just the sky smeared with navy low-hanging clouds. Between them, if one were to look up, the stars peek through.

"Do you ever tire of the landscape here, Brighid?" They've arrived at a lookout over the valley, craters and plumes of volcanic gas half-visible in the distance. Mòrag's footsteps slow, then stop as she reaches the edge.

"It has become familiar, but I don't consider that to be a detriment," Brighid replies, stepping forward so as to stand shoulder to shoulder.

Mòrag scrutinizes the view, allowing a few moments to pass. "The Senate will send us to Gormott. They agreed today to move forward into the second phase of war."

"You're saying we're getting a change of scenery, whether I like it or not?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Mòrag's eyes are trained on the valley below, but Brighid cannot tear her gaze from her Driver.

How to describe this face? Bittersweet, lost in thought, perhaps even troubled. Soft, rounded cheeks are those of a young woman's, but the wisdom in her eyes could belong to someone much older. A few strands of hair have come loose from her bun, adorning her forehead and temples.

"I take it from your lack of response that this news does not surprise you," Mòrag continues carefully, turning towards her Blade and catching her gaze.

Even after so many years, Brighid feels her heart leap into her throat.

"It's not quite that I'm not surprised," she replies, hesitant to explain herself further.

"Then what is it?" Another familiar face-- serious but open, curious but reserved. "I thought you'd be put out."

"I suppose I found solace in the fact that they are sending us together," Brighid says, and she can't quite meet Mòrag's eyes while she says it, so she looks up at the sky instead. The clouds are beginning to disperse.

"I would never agree to go without you." Mòrag's voice is soft, though she speaks the words so firmly they must be truth. "Your strength is mine, after all." Then, after a pause: "And all practicalities aside, I prefer to have you by my side."

One by one, the stars appear in time with the retreating clouds. Like jewels they wink from on high, filling the sky with pockets of ancient light. Following their path, Brighid's eyes return to Mòrag, radiant as they cluster around her in an outline incandescent.

Just like me, they long to be close to you.

thank you for reading <3