Miriel is testing out a new experimental compass, and drags Sully through the woods to act as her assistant.
“Do ya have enough data collected yet? We’ve been out here for hours.” Sully asks, idly kicking at a clump of dirt in her path as she walks behind Miriel through the forest, the two of them meandering in a seemingly random pattern. The mage had insisted she needed Sully’s assistance for some kind of dire research, yet all they’d done so far was walk and chat.
“I will be sure to alert you once I am satisfied.” Miriel says, and it’s hardly reassuring.
“Why don’t you at least let me see what you’re working on. You said it was some kinda compass, right? I know my way around a compass.” A decent portion of her knight training had involved navigating, and Sully was never one to slack-off when it came to knightly duties. She speeds up, trying to get to Miriel’s side so she snatch the rotten thing from her hands, but the trees make it difficult. And so does Miriel briskly increasing her own pace.
“That is unnecessary. This is quite delicate equipment. I do not want to risk you breaking it. Replacing it would be expensive and time-consuming.”
“What, you don’t trust me not to drop it? I’m not the one in this army with butterfingers.”
“I would trust you with my life. That has nothing to do with this-” She cuts herself off as Sully lunges forward, swiping for the metal device hidden in her palm. “You ruffian!” Sully pauses her assault, hands on her hips, and rolls her eyes.
“Alright, out with it. You never beat around the bush when you want me to help, but I haven’t even done anything yet today.” Miriel adjusts her glasses, a sure sign that Sully’s onto her.
“I assure you, this is a perfectly normal experiment. You’re far too paranoid.”
Sully, exasperated, reaches out again, and this time Miriel has nowhere to go. With a flourish, Miriel lifts her arms, sleeves smacking Sully’s face, holding the compass above her head, out of Sully's reach. Sully scowls. Miriel has at least six inches on her, height-wise.
“What are you, twelve?”
“You’re merely angry because it is a sound strategy. A twelve-year old employing it would merely be demonstrating their own aptitude for tactics.”
A smile plays on Sully’s lips. Miriel seems to have a talent for saying the most ridiculous things with the straightest face. But still, she's not one to admit defeat.
“Well, here’s another sound strategy for ya.” Miriel may be taller than her, but Sully’s far, far stronger. So, she takes that strength and throws herself at Miriel, grabbing her and picking up like she’s nothing more than a sack of potatoes.
Miriel makes a rather undignified noise in response. “Th-there’s no need for such barbaric actions!” Sully ignores her, wrestling the compass from her and then slinging her over her shoulder, securing the mage with one arm and cracking open the compass with her other.
“...Miriel. This is just a normal compass. Actually,” Sully frowns and shakes the contraption, watching the needle bounce around. “It’s a broken compass.”
Miriel falls silent. Sully sighs and lowers her back to the ground. Miriel steps away, brushing at her wrinkled robes and adjusting her hat, which had somehow managed to escape the ordeal with only minor damage. She keeps her gaze averted from Sully’s, and Sully swears she sees a dusting of light pink on her cheeks.
“I suppose it would behoove me to admit that I may have greatly exaggerated the need for your assistance, as my experiment is not yet in such an advanced stage that field trials are a necessity. I had, ah, ulterior motives, one could say.”
Sully quirks an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue
“I, well, it has been some time since we were able to be in each other’s presence without any undue interruptions. I took it upon myself to construct a situation in which such distractions could not occur.”
Sully takes a moment to translate that in her head, and then she bursts out laughing.
“Miriel, you don’t have to invent experiments to ask me on a date. We’re already a thing, you just have to ask. Y’know, with some of those big old words you’re so fond of.”
Miriel cross her arms. “I used them indirectly. We are out here on a date now, are we not?”
Sully smiles fondly, and tucks the compass away so she can grab one of Miriel’s hands.
“Now it’s really a date. Let’s head back to camp now, alright? We can take our time, but Chrom’ll flip his lid if we aren’t back before sunset.” Miriel looks away again, eyes darting around their surroundings instead of resting on Sully’s face. At first she thinks she’s just being bashful again, but then Miriel coughs lightly.
“As it turns out, I may also have exaggerated the scope of my navigational skills. To put it bluntly, I haven’t the faintest idea where we are.”
Sully laughs again, the sound resonating from deep in her stomach.
“I’ll take the lead this time, then. And worse comes to worst, you can send up a flare so Robin can send someone to fetch us before chewing us out for being irresponsible.”
Miriel huffs, but she’s smiling too, so Sully counts it as a win. Miriel may be hard to read sometimes, but Sully knows she’s just a softie at heart, even if she’s the only one who ever gets to see it. Even if she could’ve spend the last few hours training, she’d be hard-pressed to call them a waste of time.
Sully drags Miriel along to one of her training sessions. It is the single most painful experience of her entire life.
“Up an’ at em!”
An enemy would not be so foolish as to announce their presence. Therefore, the current matter is of less relevance than Miriel’s current occupation. Sleep is of the utmost importance for the functioning of the human body. Yet, the noise outside her tent persists.
“Miriel! You have until the count of ten, then I’m breaking in, like it or not.”
There is not much to break. The flap of the tent lacks any sort of locking mechanism. “Breaking” in will yield no damage to the tent. It is not a compelling threat.
“I warned you.” The pest outside growls.
The sun streaming into her face seems to have an above average magnitude of brightness. She groans, taking the logical course of action and positioning an obstruction between her sensitive eyes and the offending light.
Her pillow is cruelly tugged away.
“I do not appreciate this,” she snaps, squinting at her assailant. She can’t make out much without her spectacles, but the blurry red splotch confirms her suspicions. Sully.
Said woman snorts, holding out something with one hand. Miriel accepts the offering; her glasses. She slides them on. Sully has one hand on her hip, and she looks rather unimpressed. She’s already dressed, albeit not in her usual armor, merely loose shorts and a sleeveless top.
“You’re the one who said you needed to see my workout routine.” Miriel vaguely remembers making that request. She had assumed they would arrange in advance a time-frame during which she could observe, preferably one far later in the day. The sun isn’t even fully risen.
“Would it not be wiser to wait for evening? The present temperature is sure to be unbearable.” Sully is unaffected.
“I do this every morning. No point in rearranging my entire training schedule just for today. Besides, don’t want any confounding variables or selection bias, do we?” In hindsight, it was extremely unwise of her to explain any concepts relating to scientific experimentation to Sully.
“You will have to give me a moment to prepare myself. I failed to foresee this outcome.” Sully waves her on, ignoring the bitterness of her tone. She rolls out of bed and begins to gather her usual robes, but Sully stops her, tugging them from her hands.
“You’ll overheat in those.”
“I wear these every day. I assure you, I am aware of my own limitations.”
“You don’t do any heavy exercise on a daily basis, though.” Miriel freezes.
“I do not. And I am not engaging in anything of the sort today.” Sully smirks.
“Oh, yes you are. Won’t experiencing it for yourself make for better observations?”
“I refuse to make a spectacle of myself. I will only be an embarrassment.” Sully raises an eyebrow.
“Good thing everyone else is still asleep then, huh?” They lock gazes. Miriel will not yield. Sully sighs.
“I suppose it was too much to ask. Poor nerd like you can’t take a challenge.” Miriel yields, snatching her robes from Sully and shoving them back into her chest. She instead opts for breathable pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Despite the promised heat, she will not debase herself further by wearing more revealing clothing. Her lack of muscle mass will be apparent enough as is.
She pushes her way out of the tent, arms crossed.
“How shall we begin?” Sully is inordinately pleased with herself.
“Stretching. And then a little warm-up jog.”
Evidently, a “warm-up” jog entails a mile long run around the outskirts of camp.
“It’ll take ten minutes, max.” Sully promises sweetly.
Twenty minutes later, Miriel is panting heavily, bent over at the waist and gripping her knees tightly with her hands. Sully rubs at her back soothingly, as if the traitor didn’t laugh at her plight mere seconds ago.
“I suppose we can skip the cool-down one at the end of all this.”
“A prudent choice.” She manages between her desperate struggles to obtain oxygen.
Next up is strength training, courtesy of the weights stowed in the supply cart. Mercifully, Sully allows her to make use of the lighter ones rather than match Sully’s admittedly impressive load.
It feels as if her bones have been replaced with a mysterious gelatinous substance when they finally finish. Her motivations for pestering Sully into this seem unsound given the current state of affairs. She had wanted to spend more time with her, but been unwilling to phrase it in that way. She had no desire to appear needy.
“Now a little light ab work.” Miriel perks up, straightening from her bent over position and sliding her glasses back into place.
“What purpose will that serve? I may require a demonstration.” Sully sees right through her ruse, pushing up her shirt and flexing to reveal the tight lines of her abdominal muscles. Miriel, out of scientific curiosity, stares intently, nodding sagely. Sully allows the reprieve for a scant thirty seconds before lowering herself to the ground.
“No more stalling.” Miriel does not pout.
“I would never do something as asinine as that.”
Sully insists that Miriel complete as many of her drills as possible. Though she lacks the necessary evidence to support her hypothesis, she suspects that many of these “drills” were invented by Sully for the sole purpose of extracting as much pain from the victim as possible.
In the end, all she has left to complete are fifty more sit-ups. Despite Sully’s nonchalance, it is a monumental task. Sully is sprawled out in front of her, her own sit-ups long since finished, an elbow resting on Miriel’s feet to assist her with her burden.
Miriel makes the executive decision to implement a brief break.
“It should not be physically possible to do this.” She complains, staring up at the sky above her. The dawn sky is beginning to recede, leaving only the faintest traces of pink and orange behind. A lone cloud drifts aimlessly by, a puppet to the wind. It is a reflection of how her spirit feels. Without life and at the mercy of her environment.
She closes her eyes and sighs. Just a prolonged blink. One should never slack off during training, no matter how pleasant the radiation of the sunlight feels, permeating through her epidermis and seeping into her tired bones. A nap would be the ideal remedy for her current predicament.
The warmth disappears. She opens her eyes to see Sully leaning over her, looking a bit concerned.
“You know I was jus’ givig you a hard time,” she says. “You don’t actually have to finish.”
Miriel shoots up, ignoring the spike of pain the motion prompts in her abdomen.
“I will not leave this experiment only half complete.” She doesn’t point out that doing the exercises herself won’t actually provide reliable data for how the work-out affects Sully, due to their difference in muscle mass. Sully refrains from mentioning it as well, though she undoubtedly thinks it.
Instead, Sully smiles softly.
“How about some encouragement, then?” She places her hands on Miriel’s feet and leans over her knees. She makes a profoundly over-exaggerated “kissy” face.
“Every time you make it back up here, plant a big one.” A positive stimulant as a reward for completing an undesirable task. Devious. Despite the ridiculous nature of the suggestion, Miriel cannot find it in her to resist.
Her first attempt results in her almost breaking Sully’s nose with her forehead. The second nets the desired result, and Miriel finds herself focusing single-mindedly on her goal. It seems as if no time at all has passed when Sully stops her.
Miriel collapses immediately.
“I am fine.” It is one of the least convincing lies she has ever told. If she was sound of body, she would be recording the results of the experience in a notebook. Waiting too long will deem her recollections unreliable and tainted by the failures of the human mind. That would require her to repeat the experiment to gather more results.
Or, she can abandon the experiment. It was never her primary objection, but Sully doesn’t need to know that.
Sully crouches in front of her.
“C’mon,” she says, gesturing to her back. “I’ll take us to breakfast.”
Miriel climbs aboard, securing her arms around Sully’s neck. She’s a little too tall for the position, and her legs dangle awkwardly even as Sully wraps her hands around her thighs.
Miriel rests her head on Sully’s shoulder. The walk to the mess-sector of camp is relatively short, but perhaps the additional burden will cause the trek to be elongated. There may even be sufficient time for a proper nap.
As they weave their way through camp, they receive a few stares. Miriel has both sound reasoning and physical evidence to prove that she does, in fact, require this piggyback ride. Sully just waves jauntily. At least, until Vaike sees them and gapes, looking aghast.
“Sully! I thought you’d be gentler than that in bed!” Sully splutters, face going red. Miriel draws herself up and summons what energy she can, igniting a small spark and setting Vaike’s hair on fire.
“Think before you speak, you knave! Observe more carefully! From our dress, we were clearly engaged in a training session.” Vaike yelps, clawing futilely at his hair. Negative reinforcement may be the key to convincing him to think before he speaks. Miriel snaps and the flame goes out, his hair only mildly singed.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sully mutters, still embarrassed.
“I am simply defending your honor. It would not do to have false rumors spread about your prowess.” Sully goes red for a second time, barely recovered from the first incident.
Some would say emotions are illogical, but Miriel is human, and humans thrive in their irrationality. With Sully’s arms wrapped around her and her hair tickling Miriel’s nose, and Sully’s face flushed in front of her, all of the evidence points to a single conclusion: it would be illogical to not date her.
Admittedly, the fatigue emanating throughout her entire body suggests that there are more efficient things to do than train while in Sully’s company. But for now, the price was worth the cost. Sacrifices must be made for success. Although next time, Miriel will insist that Sully make the sacrifice. Sully can sacrifice her mobility in exchange for Miriel utilizing her legs as a pillow. She’ll need to recover the energy expended during their work-out.
Summary: Observing Sully has an unexpected effect on Miriel.
Miriel/Sully drabble for @thedrabblecollective day 3: journal.
About as pretentiously written as anything involving Miriel deserves to be. Also doubles as 3 sentence fiction, because it felt like a good opportunity to try that.
[AO3] or read under the cut.
Through rigorous observation, notetaking, and hypothesising, Miriel has grown to comprehend Sully's behaviours; the impetus for her actions, the seed from which her personhood stems. It is becoming increasingly clear, however, that Sully possesses an innate, unascertained attribute not yet recorded in any of Miriel's other subjects—no matter the extent of any previous projects she has undertaken, Miriel has never developed a personal affliction from merely watching her fellow woman's quotidian routine.
Taking a new page of her journal, Miriel commences her research on a new project: defining the principle behind the queer sensation that sprouts in her chest.
IM LAUGUING IM SORRY I WAS ON THE TUMBLR APP AND I KEPT THINKING "oh a lot of people are posting oofuri today!!" AND GOT RLY EXCITED BUT I REALIZED I WAS JUST. STILL ON UR BLOG
