"I like squirrels."

Edgar looked up curiously at his soon to be wife. "Hm?"

Celes was seated at a desk nearby, writing in what Edgar had early on learned was her most prized possession; her journal. She hadn't looked up when she'd spoken to him, just continuing to document what she felt needed to record in the black leather-bound book. He'd discovered early on that it was a comfort to her to be able to write down her thoughts and memories if only because it made them tangible; something that she could grasp in her hands as if it would show its value.

She glanced over at him, seemingly sizing his posture for his reaction to her statement before turning back to start putting pen to paper again. Only silence echoed across the bedchamber for the next few minutes, interrupted only by the scribbling of pencil on paper or the occasional shuffle of pages of the book Edgar was reading.

"I've never thought much about them," he quietly mused, glancing over at the former general.

"Hm?"

"Squirrels."

She smiled. "Mhm."

He put his book down on his lap, then turned his full attention to her. "I've never thought that much about them, which seems to reason as I've lived most of my life in a desert."

She murmured an acknowledgement. He'd learned early on in their relationship that when she spoke he needed to tread carefully; she was allowing him to learn about her, and that was a terribly difficult thing to do as she only let those she absolutely trusted learn of her. Even though he knew she loved him, trust (when it was almost irreparably damaged in her past) was something she didn't give easily.

However, he decided to press his luck, just this one.

"What about them do you like?"

She tensed, pausing her writing and he watched her back as she worked through it, hoping he hadn't pressed too far than she was willing to go on this particular evening. Finally, her shoulders dropped, and her writing continued.

"They're fluffy."

He smiled, laughing quietly.

"Fluffy, hm?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, a playful glare in her eyes. "Fluffier than you."

He put a hand over his heart, deciding to amuse her further. "Your words cut deeper than any blade could, milady. I have always considered myself to be the fluffiest of all the woodland creatures."

The writing utensil dropped from her hand, and she turned fully to face him.

"What."

He laughed jovially, each heartbeat of the joyousness making him laugh harder. Slowly but surely, she joined him in his laughter until it echoed down the hallway from their shared chambers, brightening the shadowy desert night surrounding Figaro Castle.


New pairing that I just wanted to try... just this once, anyway.

~dwr