CHARACTER CLUB PRIDE MARCH 2020! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
All characters in order from left to right:
Prun by @dreamersterrace
Libi by @tears-of-frost
Meep and Dual by @meepdrawsthings
Seomie by @feralchoya
Chyoatas by @chyoatas
Styran by @cactuscommander
Harley by @antariies
Verdanzy by @ruderubicante
Auri by @guild-wars-instead-of-work
Miluahn and Turadh by Lizardcrush and NoNametheGLiTCH (Twitter)
Snargle by @commanderyes
Titania by @commander-titania
Hestia by @prismaticaurene
Jona by @heyitsmejona
Feilim, Nima, and Fletcher by @auseers-garden
Summary: Two friends exchange early Wintersday gifts.
Characters: Prunéan Echeverie, Sieran
Notes: Prun’s POV (2nd person); fluff; 1.6k words; this was a secret santa gift for @dreamersterrace back in 2019!
—
You’re almost finished with the buttercream frosting when you hear someone running in the corridor, straight towards the kitchen, their feet slapping crazily against the flagstones.
You glance at the clock on the wall.
Three in the morning.
Huffing in amusement, you set down your bowl and wooden spoon. There’s really only one person that could be; the harder part is guessing what new wonder must have piqued her curiosity this time.
Without any doors to slam open, Sieran skids into the Priory kitchen with a breathless laugh, nearly running into one of the tables. Steadying herself, she looks around, eyes lighting up when she spots you.
“Aha!” she crows, pointing a triumphant finger in your direction, “I knew I would find you here!”
“You knew?” you ask, wiping your hands on your apron.
“Yes- well, not for certain- but this was my second guess. You weren’t in the dorm, so!”
As she hurries over, your eyes lock onto the small box in her hands. It looks harmless enough, but looks have fooled you before and underestimating a powerful artifact is a mistake you’d rather not repeat.
“Sieran,” you start, a warning edge creeping into your tone, “is that-”
“Relax, Prun! It’s not from the archives or anything, it’s not even the Priory’s!” she holds the box out to you, grinning. “But it is magical! And a gift.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Who’s it for?”
Sieran blinks in disbelief. “For you, of course! I know I didn’t wrap it up all nice, but I couldn’t wait a second longer. Happy Wintersday!” Without waiting for an answer, she deposits the box right into your startled hands and makes a beeline for the bowl of frosting.
It takes a moment for her words to register. It takes two for them to actually sink in. You stare down at the box in your hands, unsure of what to make of it. You really shouldn’t be surprised that she got you a gift, considering the holiday, but it still catches you off guard.
“Well?” Sieran asks, appearing by your side. She hums in approval as she licks the last of the buttercream off her fingers. “Aren’t you going to open it? This is delicious, by the way, what are you making?”
“Mm, cake,” you mumble distractedly, lifting the lid with care. Your mind is racing, but you keep coming up with blanks. What could she have gotten you? Something small, obviously. And she said it was magical. Did she mean that literally or figuratively? Both? You tilt the box towards the fireplace, trying to get a better look inside. It’s…
“A mask?” You pick it up, leaving the box on the table as you turn the mask around to inspect it.
It’s designed to cover only the top half of your face, two thin leather cords to fasten it dangling from either end. The material is dark blue and sturdy enough to hold its shape, but still manages to be soft to the touch. For the most part, it’s a very simple mask, seemingly crafted with function in mind rather than fashion. You absentmindedly file away all these details. It’s the embroidery that catches your eye.
Even without the sleepy hum of magic emanating from the threads, you can already tell this is advanced runework. The threads themselves are metallic and glint in the firelight, but you swear they almost seem to be glowing ever so faintly on their own, too.
“What are these runes? What do they do?” you ask, tracing them with a careful finger.
At this, Sieran inhales deeply.
“I’m glad you asked!” she starts, clapping once, “I know your head is pretty mean to you, so I got together with a bunch of arcanists and mesmers and arcanist mesmers and we came up with this idea for a mask that would help it be nicer! Here, I’ll go through all the runes with you…”
One by one, Sieran explains the function and reasoning behind every single rune on the mask, tapping each one as she gets to it.
Runes to soothe, for when your breath comes faster than normal and the dread weighs heavy on your mind.
Runes to muffle, for when the cacophony of people talking and weapons clashing starts ringing in your ears.
Runes to ground you, for when you stare off into the distance because you’re floating out of your body and can’t feel your hands so you pick at your thorns until you bleed.
Runes to help. And they’re all for you.
“...and that’s the last of it!” Sieran finishes, “This is actually a prototype, but if it works, we can fine-tune it in the future! And make it prettier! Oh, won’t that be fun? What do you think? Are you going to try it on?”
“I-” you pause, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, “Sieran, This is… it’s amazing, but I can’t- I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“Nonsense!” she scoffs, “It’s a gift! You don’t pay for gifts. Unless- well, unless you’re buying a gift to give to someone, but- oh, never mind that. It’s for you, Prun. No strings attached. Except the actual strings to tie the mask with.”
It’s… strange, the way you feel right now. It’s the same feeling as when you’re attuned to air, but instead of sparking at your fingertips, the lightning dances around in your chest. Strange… but good, you think. You’d like to feel this way more often.
“Prun? Are you alright?” Sieran asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Yes,” you shake your head a little to clear it, “just thinking… uh, Sieran…?”
“Hm?”
In theory, you know how to ask for a hug. In practice, not so much. Sieran always initiated them so you never really needed to, but… you’d like to start. You finally feel ready.
And it surprises you, how easy it is to smile at her. The awkwardness comes when you sort of half-hold your arms out and she tilts her head in confusion and you think you’ve made a mistake, you should drop your arms and abort, quickly, before you make it worse, but then recognition dawns on her face and-
“Oof!”
Sieran crashes into your chest like a wave, squeezing away whatever wind she hadn’t already knocked out of you. Given how much taller you are, you have to lean over her to wrap your arms around her back, hyper aware of where all your thorns are so you don’t prick her by accident.
You stay like that for a while, only pulling back after about half a minute. When you look down, Sieran is beaming up at you, her eyes watery. You give her another smile, softer this time, and her grin gets impossibly brighter.
“Thank you,” you say, because it occurs to you that you haven’t said it yet.
She nods wordlessly, making discreet swipes at her eyes. You turn away to give her some privacy and spot the mask again, sitting on the counter.
That reminds you, there’s another matter you’ve been meaning to ask about. She might have pulled a few favors, but materials are expensive and a custom-made mask like this, embroidered with powerful, complex runes…
“Sieran, how much did this cost to make?” you ask, turning back to her.
“Oh, that’s a secret!” she says, putting a finger to her lips and winking.
You glance down at the box, spotting a folded slip of paper tucked into the side. Sieran notices it at the same time and makes a sound somewhere between a squeak and a squawk as she lunges for it faster than your eyes can follow. The moment she gets her fingers around the paper, she slaps it in between her palms, soaking it with water in a burst of elemental magic and flash-freezing it with another. With a flex of her hand, the paper shatters into tiny, unreadable scraps, drifting to the floor like fresh snow.
Sieran dusts her hands off and turns back to you, smiling innocently. You can’t help the tiny huff of laughter that escapes.
“Was that a receipt?” you ask, raising a knowing eyebrow.
She suddenly can’t meet your eyes for some reason, but to her credit, her smile doesn’t waver at all. “…That’s also a secret,” she says again, glowing bright enough to bathe the room sunflower yellow.
You just stare. She refuses to look at you, but you don’t stop, keeping your gaze locked.
She fidgets in place.
You turn back to the bowl of frosting you left on the counter and snicker inwardly when you hear a sigh of relief behind you.
“There’s two cakes in the oven that should be done in a few minutes. Do you want to help me?” you ask over your shoulder.
“Ooh, of course!” Sieran squats in front of the oven, sliding on two ridiculously large oven mitts. “They’re looking really good. Smell even better. Are you stress-baking?”
“Mm, for once, no. This one’s a gift.”
“For who?”
You snort at the role reversal. “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but… Happy Wintersday, Sieran.”
Her eyes widen and she lights up, glancing between the bowl in your hands and the cakes in the oven. “Two cakes? Or one big cake?”
“One big cake,” you confirm, “Vanilla and… filling.”
You point your wooden spoon towards a lidded pot resting on the counter. Sieran hops up from her squat and struggles to open it with the oven mitts still on her hands for a full minute. When she finally manages to crack the lid open, the smell is unmistakable.
