please write more Bouquet OT3 fic, oh my god, I need this so much
You want a perfect storm in Ernmark-land? Combine equal parts:
poly relationships
cold-weather cuddling
scaly humanoids getting all sleepy in cold weather
and I’m pretty much guaranteed to be happy.
Nobody expected a cold snap to reach this far north, but here it is, and so here they are. The Swamp of Titans’ Blooms has been reduced to a slushy, soupy mess-- and even if Amaryllis can’t see how that’s any different from the Swamp on a normal day, she doesn’t say anything. Their ridiculous lizard is grumpy enough without any more reminders. It seems the cold doesn’t agree with him.
He’s calmed down, though. Now that there’s a fire roaring in the hearth and two warm bodies for him to wrap around, he’s settled into a comfortable doze.
It’s nice, really.
With the unexpected chill, she suspects that there’ll be a rash of colds soon after, and so she’s grinding up ginger and forsythia fruit with minced dandelion root; when the people of the Citadel come to her door, she’ll be able to shove packets of the stuff into their hands with a few easy instructions and send them on their way.
Damien is helping, filling the silence with the murmur of her favorite ballads while he chops isatis and pueraria into a fine powder. His back is pressed against hers, warm and comforting, and Arum is wrapped around the both of them as he dozes. His head is on Damien’s lap, his tail is twined around Rilla’s waist, and there’s really no telling what his hands are doing at the moment.
Rilla pulls a jar of dried flowers off the table and twists it open. Before she can tip its contents into her mortar, the tail around her waist twitches.
“Honeysuckle?” Arum murmurs, still half asleep.
Damien pauses in his recitation. “Yes, Arum?”
Their lizard’s drowsy chuckle sounds almost like a rattle. “No. The flower. I smell honeysuckle.”
“That would be me,” Rilla says, shaking her jar a bit. The dried flowers rustle softly, and the air is filled with the aroma of distant spring. She pats the long scaly leg that’s thrown over her knee. “Go back to sleep, Arum. We’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner.”
