"This is Angeal Hewley... distinctly not here. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can. If it's important, Lazard, Genesis, or Sephiroth should know where I am."
"If I was any slower, wouldn't you threaten to fight me in the garden again?" But there's some amusement in his tone as he recalls that time of their life, even as there's only the briefest of hesitation at seeing that wing out. But it's fine, he reminds himself, even as his Herdier trots along at his feet.
Carefully, he moves around the bench so that he doesn't accidentally disturb any of the applins. "They're rather cozy for so late in the day," he muses.
Genesis clicks his tongue, and gently shifts the applin in his lap to place it down by his feet with the others. The tiny wyrmling barely stirs, rustling its apple shell a moment, then going right back to sleep.
"Now, now. As I recall, I never said I wanted to fight you. You assumed as much," Genesis teases, waiting for Angeal to settle before he scoots closer, and rests his head against his mate's shoulder. With his hands free again, he slides one along Angeal's wrist, and down to his palm to twine their fingers together.
"But yes, they're tired. They've been... 'hard at work' so to say. They've been helping me with something very important."
"And you didn't correct me even when I talked about it multiple times," Angeal counters, leaning right back against his mate and squeezing down on his hand as he takes it. On the other end of the bench, on the ground, his Herdier settles down with an old man sort of sigh.
"Is that 'something important' what you called me out here for?"
"It was meant to be a surprise, darling. I couldn't give away all the suspense, now could I?" He breathes a laugh against Angeal's shoulder, fondly recalling the day despite how nervous he'd been at the time.
"Perceptive as always." After a moment of just enjoying the peace, the quiet, sure warmth of his mate's love, Genesis makes a soft, affirmative sound. He's reluctant to move, but carefully shifts himself and his wing. When it uncurls from around what the plumage has been hiding, there is a small, potted plant there.
Genesis sets it on his lap, smiling down at it, and that seems to stir the applins. They sleepily yawn and chirp, looking up at what appears to be a pair of silvery, woody stems that are intricately braided together. A pair of Banora Whites, young and still without their signature arches, woven to grow together.
"You're not the easiest man to find gifts for, you know. Even if I think you deserve more than the whole world could ever offer, I doubt you'd accept it. But I hope this suffices. It's only been a year, but I want to make it a hundred thousand more, across dozens of lives, across the universe and back. I want to be beside you forever, to watch it grow and flower and bear fruit. To see the leaves and bark and apples, and know that I am home with you."
Even before Genesis holds out the little pot clearly, just a glance is all Angeal needs to realize just what it is that's nestled in there.
How couldn't he? He grew up in Banora for around half his life, and spent so much of his time out there amongst the dumbapple trees. There were some saplings he could recall from his childhood, that adults constantly tried to shoo him away from, which had grown up into fine young arches by the time he left for Midgar. His father used to carry him in his arms, when he was small, to lift him up to those pale boughs, cheerfully explaining how they were growing, what the signs were when those fickle plants were ready to bloom.
Those little saplings... he can recognize them with even a split second look.
Carefully, he reaches over, and his finger traces along the rim of the pot. Not even daring to bother the plants in their infancy. "I guess I make it hard when you can't just get me a coupon book, huh?" Angeal says, for all that there's the most tender look on his face. "But you know, you don't need to see the apples, or the leaves, or the bark, to know any of that."
Taking Genesis's hand still clutched in his, Angeal presses his lips to his knuckles.
"Precisely. But if they ever do publish a sexy coupon book, I'll be sure to gift you one first thing." He laughs quietly under his breath, watching the way Angeal traces the rim of the pot. And then as he raises their hands, and kisses the arches of his knuckles.
"I know," Genesis says with a smile just as soft as that gesture. "And I will cherish every day at your side. Until all the stars in the heavens burn out, and even into the darkness of stardust again. We'll never be apart."
"Never apart," Angeal promises right back, eyelashes coming to a brief rest along his cheeks for a moment as he simply savors this moment in its entirety. Gen's warmth besides him. The softness of his knuckles. Every breath filled with him, all ember and hair product.
He won't let them be apart ever again.
And not only that... but he won't let their union stay something awkward, uncomfortable, painful. So he lets a slow breath filter out from between his lips before he opens his eyes and pulls away. "I was going to wait for after dinner, but - I have something for you too, Gen. So wait here for a minute, alright?"
Yet when Angeal gets up, it's not to go to the house again, or the greenhouse. Instead, he makes his way over to where his smithy is set up, the chimney devoid of any smoke today. After all, he'd already finished what he wanted to make a little while ago.
It doesn't take long for him to come back, cradling a small wooden box in his hands. With the way they know one another, deeper than bone, Genesis can probably pick up all the little tells: the slightest pinch of his brow that Angeal tries to keep from being too noticeable, the grind of his tongue against the back of his teeth, fingers kept absolutely still so that they don't fidget in any way. A part of him still isn't really sure about this...
But he knows he needs to ignore it.
"They're not too elegant," he says as he settles down besides Genesis again. "But... Hopefully they'll fit your extravagant tastes anyway." And he opens the box.
Resting inside are two pieces of jewelry. One is a large resin bracelet, nothing fancy such as colors are intricately laid out plants within it. Just a single large white feather, bent enough that it is almost certainly shattered along its shaft in little places here and there. The other is a single earring, metal carefully and delicately forged by thick fingers, holding onto a single feather so much tinier than its partner. Soft and small.
"I thought if I can maybe see them on the people I love," Angeal murmurs, gaze downcast and focused on the box, "then maybe it would help. Maybe it will do something."
"Oh?" Genesis practically purrs, watching Angeal move. He heads in the opposite direction of their home, which can only mean towards the smithy. While Genesis doesn't do much with patience, he waits quietly for Angeal to return with a curious look. Genesis knows it's something important with the way Angeal simply exists in his body like that. Unsure, but determined, underlying worries that Genesis has watched haunt his mate for a while now.
It's when Angeal sits down again that Genesis presses closer, sharing his warmth like a worried cat.
"It needs only come from you to suit me, beloved," he assures, and watches Angeal finally open the box. There's a soft, gentle exhale of "oh..."
They are beautiful. Intricacy be damned, the soft sheen of Angeal's feathers have always captivated him, and that's no exception now. The fondness creeps into his smile, into the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The whole of him melts into something sweet and sure, and utterly adoring as he carefully picks them up.
The bracelet he slips on immediately, admiring it over the curve of his wrist for a moment. Then he's slipping his hands up to his earlobe, and removing the silver earring he typically wears to one side. It's replaced by that downy feather, the seating letting the pearly fuzz delicately brush along his neck. Genesis runs his fingers over it, purring aloud to the feel of it along his pulse. Like it's been missing beside the drum of his heart this entire time, a part of Angeal always on him.
With his head tipped to one side to enjoy the tactile feeling, Genesis smiles up at his mate.
"Yes, they absolutely do suit me, as predicted. You always have, and always will, after all. So what do you think?"
Honestly, he thinks it could kill him with the way that Genesis looks at his feathers. As if they're more priceless than anything that was at any fancy display in any Midgar store. Angeal doesn't move, simply watching as Genesis does.
That pale feather, trapping his wrist.
Its partner, held up into his ear, bright against the brilliance of his crimson hair.
"What do I think, huh?" What does he think, when just handling them made his nerves claw up against his spine and his stomach twist even as he carefully bent together bits of metal? Angeal tries to forget those feelings, even a little bit. All he does is look at the way that feather rests along Genesis's neck... and cracks an uncertain but strangely stubborn smile.
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Carefully, he moves around the bench so that he doesn't accidentally disturb any of the applins. "They're rather cozy for so late in the day," he muses.
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"Now, now. As I recall, I never said I wanted to fight you. You assumed as much," Genesis teases, waiting for Angeal to settle before he scoots closer, and rests his head against his mate's shoulder. With his hands free again, he slides one along Angeal's wrist, and down to his palm to twine their fingers together.
"But yes, they're tired. They've been... 'hard at work' so to say. They've been helping me with something very important."
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"Is that 'something important' what you called me out here for?"
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"Perceptive as always." After a moment of just enjoying the peace, the quiet, sure warmth of his mate's love, Genesis makes a soft, affirmative sound. He's reluctant to move, but carefully shifts himself and his wing. When it uncurls from around what the plumage has been hiding, there is a small, potted plant there.
Genesis sets it on his lap, smiling down at it, and that seems to stir the applins. They sleepily yawn and chirp, looking up at what appears to be a pair of silvery, woody stems that are intricately braided together. A pair of Banora Whites, young and still without their signature arches, woven to grow together.
"You're not the easiest man to find gifts for, you know. Even if I think you deserve more than the whole world could ever offer, I doubt you'd accept it. But I hope this suffices. It's only been a year, but I want to make it a hundred thousand more, across dozens of lives, across the universe and back. I want to be beside you forever, to watch it grow and flower and bear fruit. To see the leaves and bark and apples, and know that I am home with you."
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How couldn't he? He grew up in Banora for around half his life, and spent so much of his time out there amongst the dumbapple trees. There were some saplings he could recall from his childhood, that adults constantly tried to shoo him away from, which had grown up into fine young arches by the time he left for Midgar. His father used to carry him in his arms, when he was small, to lift him up to those pale boughs, cheerfully explaining how they were growing, what the signs were when those fickle plants were ready to bloom.
Those little saplings... he can recognize them with even a split second look.
Carefully, he reaches over, and his finger traces along the rim of the pot. Not even daring to bother the plants in their infancy. "I guess I make it hard when you can't just get me a coupon book, huh?" Angeal says, for all that there's the most tender look on his face. "But you know, you don't need to see the apples, or the leaves, or the bark, to know any of that."
Taking Genesis's hand still clutched in his, Angeal presses his lips to his knuckles.
"I'll be right there with you always."
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"I know," Genesis says with a smile just as soft as that gesture. "And I will cherish every day at your side. Until all the stars in the heavens burn out, and even into the darkness of stardust again. We'll never be apart."
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He won't let them be apart ever again.
And not only that... but he won't let their union stay something awkward, uncomfortable, painful. So he lets a slow breath filter out from between his lips before he opens his eyes and pulls away. "I was going to wait for after dinner, but - I have something for you too, Gen. So wait here for a minute, alright?"
Yet when Angeal gets up, it's not to go to the house again, or the greenhouse. Instead, he makes his way over to where his smithy is set up, the chimney devoid of any smoke today. After all, he'd already finished what he wanted to make a little while ago.
It doesn't take long for him to come back, cradling a small wooden box in his hands. With the way they know one another, deeper than bone, Genesis can probably pick up all the little tells: the slightest pinch of his brow that Angeal tries to keep from being too noticeable, the grind of his tongue against the back of his teeth, fingers kept absolutely still so that they don't fidget in any way. A part of him still isn't really sure about this...
But he knows he needs to ignore it.
"They're not too elegant," he says as he settles down besides Genesis again. "But... Hopefully they'll fit your extravagant tastes anyway." And he opens the box.
Resting inside are two pieces of jewelry. One is a large resin bracelet, nothing fancy such as colors are intricately laid out plants within it. Just a single large white feather, bent enough that it is almost certainly shattered along its shaft in little places here and there. The other is a single earring, metal carefully and delicately forged by thick fingers, holding onto a single feather so much tinier than its partner. Soft and small.
"I thought if I can maybe see them on the people I love," Angeal murmurs, gaze downcast and focused on the box, "then maybe it would help. Maybe it will do something."
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It's when Angeal sits down again that Genesis presses closer, sharing his warmth like a worried cat.
"It needs only come from you to suit me, beloved," he assures, and watches Angeal finally open the box. There's a soft, gentle exhale of "oh..."
They are beautiful. Intricacy be damned, the soft sheen of Angeal's feathers have always captivated him, and that's no exception now. The fondness creeps into his smile, into the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The whole of him melts into something sweet and sure, and utterly adoring as he carefully picks them up.
The bracelet he slips on immediately, admiring it over the curve of his wrist for a moment. Then he's slipping his hands up to his earlobe, and removing the silver earring he typically wears to one side. It's replaced by that downy feather, the seating letting the pearly fuzz delicately brush along his neck. Genesis runs his fingers over it, purring aloud to the feel of it along his pulse. Like it's been missing beside the drum of his heart this entire time, a part of Angeal always on him.
With his head tipped to one side to enjoy the tactile feeling, Genesis smiles up at his mate.
"Yes, they absolutely do suit me, as predicted. You always have, and always will, after all. So what do you think?"
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That pale feather, trapping his wrist.
Its partner, held up into his ear, bright against the brilliance of his crimson hair.
"What do I think, huh?" What does he think, when just handling them made his nerves claw up against his spine and his stomach twist even as he carefully bent together bits of metal? Angeal tries to forget those feelings, even a little bit. All he does is look at the way that feather rests along Genesis's neck... and cracks an uncertain but strangely stubborn smile.
"Pretty... I guess. They're on you, after all."