╔══════════════════⟝• ⸰ °)☼(° ⸰ •⟞══════════════════╗ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ╚══════════════════⟝• ⸰ °)☼(° ⸰ •⟞══════════════════╝ There are two distinct kinds of love. One is called compassionate love, a love that incites us to wish the best for what we love. And the other? Concupiscent love. Meaning? It incites the soul to desire what we love. Night had fallen, a cool yet somewhat comfortable February evening as the shop on the main road of Regalia known as Imperial Inks was being closed up. Gigi had long since been dismissed as the Kaeppler had insisted the younger woman go and enjoy her evening. And now, as she was pulling the double doors closed, she pursed her lips, contemplating the wood of the door. It had been a rather quiet day, Heart’s Day, Lover’s Day, what have you. A day to celebrate love and relationships was not a day she had expected to be busy. There were a few people, forgetful spouses, blushing newly entered relationships, and the two tattooing appointments. A quiet, but enjoyable day. A day for her to contemplate the actual meaning of the holiday, or at least the “holiday,” for it was a more recently developed thing. Clicking the key into the lock and pulling briefly on the door handles, Theresia stuck the key-ring into her satchel and drew her coat closer to herself. Stepping fully out onto the main road, she shifted her glasses onto her head and gazed upwards. Lips pulling up into that faint half-smile of hers, she began the trek home. Her mind wandered as she did so, the basket of the last few bouquets tucked into the crook of her arm. It wandered from the smiling and embarrassed faces to those she had observed from her vantage point behind the counter to the brief and intimate glances she had once seen amongst the lovers back home, in Opper-Calem. And for a brief moment, she was reminded of forest green eyes and coal colored locks. “...Frederick.” The name, a name she had not considered for so many years, was like a whispered plea upon her lips. Her smile waned as she paused upon the stone bridge, eyes flitting upwards to the star-lit sky once more. Her heart hadn’t ached in such a long time, having grown cold and frigid like the Regalian winters. And yet, just as winters turned to springs, her heart had begun to melt. Little by little, gradually. Forest green eyes were replaced by ones like the ocean and coal colored hair to chestnut locks. Her smile returned, perhaps much slower this time, eyes still fixated upon the brilliant starlit sky. There was something about love, the idea of a relationship that she had once stuck her nose up at, disregarded it for her artistic studies, both visually and with a sword. Or rather, it was a concept she was both afraid of and considered alien. It had always been something for silly people and people who didn’t realize the importance of power, glory, and wealth. “They are distractions, at times, Kleine Jungtier.” Little Cub. Her father would inform her when she was younger. He always waved her off when it came to those sorts of questions and though he always answered with a faint spark in his deep green eyes when she asked about his relationship with her mother, she still never quite grasped the idea or concept that was love. Of how it was something physical, emotional, and spiritual. Of how it could consume a person, burn their insides, and come tumbling forth from their lips in garbled and hurried words between shows of affection. And all the same, it could be a burning billowing fire one moment and then a cold wisp of winter air. It was burning, it was chilled touches. Love was a confusing thing to the Kaeppler. And yet she felt it now, felt it within her chest. Felt it with her hands and saw it with her eyes. There was love in everything she did, in every word she spoke to the people she interacted with. To the people, she called hers. For, with some help, she had learned that there were different sorts of love and different ways to express it. It did not burn, it did not distract her, it warmed her. It gave her strength. Perhaps the purpose she had been desiring all along. She had thought, at one point, it would be like the burning and crackling she had felt after the accident. But no, it was a comfortable warmth that filled her person when she stepped into view and heard the call of the many nicknames and the beckoning of the people. A chorus of voices. “I was wondering when you would stop sulking and come join me, Mads.” “SIAAAA! There you are! Good to see you, come sit.” “Oh good morning, Sera Kaeppler! You scared me, but it’s nice to see you.” “Kleine Jungtier, I was just telling Vater about how good of a thrashing you gave Ser Weber. Good shield work.” “Kaeppler. Nice to see your face around here.” Male, female… So many voices, filled with hints of love and friendship. Some more than others, but the warmth in her chest when she heard the voices. It made her smile that half-smile of hers. A slow hum of a breath escaped her as she approached her home which was sometimes too large for her own liking. But then again, she had family and friends over more often than not. Standing on the doorstep, she let out a little sigh. Glancing upwards, she cocked her head at the sight of clearly lit candles within. Her lips drew up further than her usual half-smile, and for a brief moment, she smiled so large, her scars puckered. Fumbling with her bag and the basket, she unlocked the door and entered her home. She was greeted by a familiar and beloved face and the caw of her feathery companion. Arms were soon wrapped tight around her form and kisses being pressed to her tired and scarred skin. And as affection was bestowed upon her, she thought to herself: Perhaps love isn’t so scary. And perhaps Heart’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.
