The hall had quieted after the laughter. Steam still curled upward from the bowls stacked on the table, mingling with the faint sweetness of fruit and the earthy scent of porridge. The fire in the hearth burned low, its glow painting the griefstone walls in amber shadows. Chairs were pushed back, cloaks draped loosely, the rhythm of voices replaced by the soft clink of crockery.
At the basin near the kitchen wall, Ivy stood with her sleeves rolled up, cloak trailing behind her. Her braid slipped forward, strands sticking to her cheek from the steam. Her hands moved quickly, dipping bowls into warm water, scrubbing with deliberate force. The sound of dishes clattering echoed faintly, sharp against the otherwise calm air.
Tieran stood beside her, arms folded across his chest. His posture was steady, shoulders squared, cloak draped neatly. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed faintly, his seal pulsed steadily. He watched silently, his presence heavy but calm, like a shadow anchoring the space.
Through the bond, Ivy's frustration pulsed. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowed, her seal flickered erratically. In her heart, she cursed him—quietly, fiercely, words unspoken but alive.
Tieran felt it. His jaw tightened, his lips curved faintly, his seal pulsed in response. He leaned slightly closer, his voice low but edged with dry humor.
"I cook every day," he said softly. "Every single meal since I came here. A bit of a break from the dishes—don't you think I deserve it?"
Ivy's face changed instantly. Her brows lifted, her lips parted, her eyes widened faintly. Steam rose around her, her braid swayed as she turned her head slightly toward him. Her seal flickered brightly, her breath caught.
She did not answer. Instead, she turned back to the basin, her hands moving faster, her gestures sharper. She scrubbed the bowls with sudden force, her frustration pouring into the rhythm of her movements. Water splashed against the basin, droplets scattering across the wood. The dishes clattered louder, each sound edged with her irritation.
Her lips pressed tighter, her eyes narrowed, her seal pulsed erratically. She poured all her frustration into the dishes, as though each scrub could dissolve the teasing, the bullaying, the chores she had been cornered into.
The basin sang with the sharp rhythm of Ivy's scrubbing, each clatter like a protest echoing in porcelain. Her hands moved quickly, scrubbing bowls with sharp force, water splashing against the wooden rim. Steam curled upward, catching the golden light that spilled through the high windows. Her braid swayed with each movement, strands sticking to her cheek, her cloak trailing behind her like a banner of irritation.
Tieran stood beside her, arms folded, his posture steady. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed faintly, his seal pulsed steadily. He watched silently, his presence heavy but calm, his aura anchoring the space.
Through the bond, Ivy's curses flickered like sparks. Tieran felt them, his lips curved faintly, his seal pulsed in response. He had spoken already—his dry reminder that he cooked every meal since arriving, that he deserved a break from dishes. Ivy had poured her frustration into the bowls, scrubbing harder, clattering louder.
Then, Ivy snapped.
Her lips parted, her eyes narrowed, her seal pulsed brightly. She turned her head sharply toward Tieran, her braid whipping across her shoulder. Her voice rose, sharp but edged with humor, echoing against the griefstone walls.
"Fine!" she shouted. "Next time you can cultivate with soap bubbles instead!"
Her words rang through the hall, bold and playful, dissolving the tension that had lingered in the air.
Tieran's brows lifted faintly. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes softened, his seal pulsed warmly. He leaned slightly closer, his voice low but edged with humor.
"Soap bubbles?" he murmured. "That's your cultivation method now?"
His tone was clipped but playful, his gaze steady, his aura softened.
Ivy's lips curved faintly, her eyes sparkled, her seal pulsed brightly. She turned back to the basin, her hands moving slower now, her gestures edged with mischief rather than frustration. Water splashed softly, steam curled upward, her laughter hidden but alive.
From the doorway, Aldi, Nia, and Orie peeked in.
Aldi's braid swayed as she leaned forward, her lips curved faintly, her seal pulsed warmly. Her eyes lingered on Ivy and Tieran, her voice low but edged with affection.
"They'll make a good couple," she whispered softly, her tone calm but certain.
Orie chuckled faintly, her braid slipping forward, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. Her seal pulsed warmly, her eyes sparkled.
"Yes," she said gently. "They quarrel like an old married couple."
Nia's brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her seal pulsed faintly, her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms, her voice low but edged with sharp humor.
"In your dreams," she muttered. "As if I'll let my imperfect daughter marry your son."
Her words hung in the air, sharp but playful, dissolving into the warmth of the moment.
They thought their whispers were hidden. But Tieran heard them.
His ears caught every word, his seal pulsed faintly in response. His jaw relaxed, his lips curved into a deeper smirk. His eyes softened faintly, his aura shifted—no longer heavy, but edged with quiet amusement.
Ivy sensed it through the bond. Her brows lifted faintly, her lips parted, her seal flickered brightly. She turned her head slightly, her braid swaying, her eyes widened.
She realized. He had heard.
Her cheeks flushed instantly, warmth rising beneath her skin. Her lips pressed tightly, her eyes darted downward. She turned back to the basin, her hands moving faster, her gestures sharper. She scrubbed the bowls with sudden force, water splashing louder, steam curling upward.
She tried to hide. Behind the dishes, behind the clatter, behind the rhythm of her frustration.
Tieran's smirk lingered. His eyes softened faintly, his seal pulsed warmly. He leaned slightly closer, his voice low but edged with humor.
"Soap bubbles and marriage talk," he murmured softly. "Quite the cultivation method."
His tone was clipped but playful, his gaze steady, his aura softened.
Ivy's lips parted, her eyes widened faintly, her seal flickered brightly. She pressed her lips tighter, her cheeks flushed deeper. She lowered her gaze, her braid slipping forward, her cloak trailing.
Her voice was low, edged with embarrassment. "Don't listen to them," she muttered. "They're just… bullaying."
The hall exhaled softly. Steam curled upward, the fire crackled faintly, the griefstone walls pulsed gently. Ivy's blush lingered, Tieran's smirk deepened, Aldi's affection glowed, Orie's humor sparkled, Nia's sharpness edged the air.
Far from the quiet hall, in the forest beyond the griefstone house, Thimble and Illan played.
The forest was alive with morning light. Dew clung to the grass, shimmering like jewels. Birds called faintly from the branches, their songs weaving into the air. The scent of pine and damp earth mingled with the sweetness of wild fruits.
Thimble darted between the trees, his ears twitching wildly, his cloak flapping behind him. His seal pulsed erratically, flickering like sparks. He carried a stick in one hand, swinging it dramatically as though it were a sword. His grin widened, his laughter rang high and sharp, echoing through the forest.
"Take that!" he shouted, striking at the air. "And that!"
Illan followed more slowly, his cloak trailing neatly, his seal pulsed faintly but steady. His brows furrowed, his lips curved faintly, his eyes narrowed with calm amusement. He carried a branch in one hand, using it like a staff, his movements deliberate and precise.
"You call that swordplay?" he muttered dryly. "Chaos is not skill."
Thimble's ears twitched violently, his grin widened. He darted forward, swinging his stick toward Illan. Illan lifted his branch calmly, blocking the strike with deliberate ease. The sound of wood clashing echoed faintly, sharp against the forest air.
They moved together—Thimble wild and chaotic, Illan calm and precise. Their seals pulsed in rhythm, clashing faintly, weaving discord into harmony.
Thimble laughed loudly, his voice high and sharp. Illan sighed softly, his lips curved faintly. The forest shimmered with their energy, alive with mischief and discipline.
The clatter of dishes still echoed faintly in the hall, Ivy's braid swaying as she scrubbed harder, cheeks flushed, steam rising like a veil around her. Tieran's smirk lingered, but his eyes shifted toward the doorway. He had heard every whisper, every teasing word.
With a quiet exhale, he unfolded his arms and stepped away from the basin. His cloak trailed behind him, brushing against the stone floor. His seal pulsed steadily, his jaw set, his presence heavy but calm.
At the doorway, Aldi, Orie, and Nia froze mid-peek. Their cloaks brushed against the frame, their eyes widened faintly, their seals flickered in surprise.
Tieran stopped before them, his gaze sharp but softened by restraint. His voice was low, clipped, edged with quiet authority. "Mom. Aunts. Stop it."
Orie's lips curved into a mischievous smile, her braid slipping forward, her seal pulsed warmly. She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling faintly. "My son," she said gently, her tone edged with humor. "If you continue like this, you will die single."
Her words rang softly, playful but pointed, dissolving the tension into laughter.
Aldi chuckled faintly, her braid swaying, her seal pulsed warmly. She leaned forward, her eyes softened, her voice low but edged with affection. "She's right," Aldi murmured. "You need to win her over. A smile here, a kind word there. Don't just stand like a shadow beside her—show her you care."
Her tone was calm, her advice edged with warmth, her presence steady.
Nia's brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her seal pulsed faintly, her eyes narrowed sharply. She stepped forward, pulling Aldi and Orie back with deliberate force, her cloak trailing.
"You are unbelievable," she muttered, her voice low but edged with sharpness.
Her gaze shifted to Tieran, her eyes softened faintly, her seal pulsed steadily. Her voice lowered, calm but firm. "Rest assured," she said softly. "As long as I'm here, no one will force you to marry."
Ivy overheard everything.
Her hands froze mid-scrub, water dripping from the bowl. Her cheeks burned hotter, her lips parted faintly, her seal flickered brightly. Embarrassment tangled with something softer—secret delight.
Marrying Tieran doesn't feel bad, she thought, the words slipping unbidden into her mind.
But in the next heartbeat, realization struck. Through the bond, Tieran could feel her thoughts. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, her blush deepened until it felt unbearable.
"No, no, no…" she whispered under her breath, dying of embarrassment.
She dropped the cloth, cloak flaring as she bolted from the attic. Her footsteps echoed against the griefstone floor, fading into the corridor.
Tieran remained by the doorway, his smirk deepening into something softer, almost foolish. He turned toward the window, cloak trailing, his seal pulsing warmly.
Through the bond, he felt her—her embarrassment, her racing heartbeat, her tangled delight. And Ivy, running outside, felt him too—his quiet amusement, his warmth, his ridiculous grin.
They were tethered. Embarrassment, humor, tenderness—all pulsing together in rhythm.
Tieran stood at the window, smiling like an idiot.
Ivy fled into the air, her cheeks aflame.
Yet through the bond, they felt each other, alive in the fragile harmony of soap bubbles, dishes, and destiny.