The mountain air was crisp that night, carrying the sweet scent of late-blooming orchids and the distant hum of cicadas. The sky was a tapestry of stars, radiant and unclouded, with the moon bathing the courtyard in pale silver.
Kyle sat cross-legged on the polished stones, cradling a small clay cup between his hands. The bottle between him and Buer was an old one—dusty, half-forgotten, and precious. The kind of vintage that had just the right amount of exotic ancient brew mixed in it. Egeria had stored it herself in the wine cellar decades ago. Perhaps centuries. She rarely drank. For good reason.
Buer reclined beside him on a cushion of moss she'd conjured just moments ago, her long verdant hair flowing around her like ivy in bloom. She looked utterly at peace, and a touch too pleased with herself.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Kyle said, glancing at the wine bottle again. "You're really going to get her drunk?"
"I would never 'get her drunk,'" Buer replied sweetly, fluttering her lashes. "I'm merely encouraging the esteemed swordmistress of this mountain to relax with us under the moon. Like friends. With wine."
Kyle gave her a look.
Buer leaned closer, her voice a silken whisper. "Don't you want to see it too? The way she gets when her guard slips?" She grinned. "She goes all soft and wide-eyed and clingy. Like a maiden waiting for a love letter."
Kyle flushed. "She'll kill us."
"She won't." Buer stretched like a cat in the moonlight. "She'll blush. She'll pout. And she'll secretly love the attention."
He couldn't quite argue. Egeria, for all her stoicism, had her tells. And sometimes, when she thought no one noticed, she lingered a little too long in the doorway when Kyle laughed at Buer's antics. Or she'd rest her hand on his back just a heartbeat too long. Not commanding. Just… there.
Footsteps echoed softly from the main corridor.
And then she appeared.
Egeria.
Hair unbound, robe draped in simple white over her shoulder, a blade still at her hip out of reflex. She was grace incarnate—yet also quietly unsure, the way her eyes flicked between the wine bottle and the cushions set out beside them. Her gaze settled on Kyle, then on Buer, narrowing just slightly.
"I was told," she began evenly, "there would be tea."
Buer smiled like a fox who had already raided the henhouse. "There was. But tea became wine. A natural evolution."
Egeria's brow twitched.
Kyle spoke quickly. "It's just a little. You don't have to drink if you don't want to. We just thought it might be nice. The moon's out. It's quiet. You've been training hard lately and…" He trailed off under her gaze.
There was a long pause.
And then, to his surprise, she sighed.
"I suppose one cup would not hurt."
She stepped forward with the hesitant grace of someone approaching a trap they secretly wanted to spring. She sat beside Kyle, far enough not to touch but close enough that the scent of her hair—clean, wind-swept—brushed his thoughts.
Buer poured for her first, a delicate measure. "To nights without wars or worries," she said with a sly wink.
Egeria accepted the cup. "To foolish friends."
Kyle smiled faintly. "To memories worth keeping."
And she sipped.
Victory flashed between Buer and Kyle like lightning behind their smiles.
Egeria set the cup down calmly. "One sip. That is all."
"Of course," Buer said with a wink.
Ten minutes later, her cup was mysteriously empty.
Buer hummed to herself as she poured another. "Just a little more. We're telling stories. You can't not tell stories."
Egeria arched a brow. "You mean embarrassing stories about one another?"
"Exactly," Buer grinned. "I'll start!"
And she launched into a tale involving Kyle, a bees' nest, a fishing net, and an unfortunate misunderstanding about "diving training."
Kyle groaned. "That was a misunderstanding!"
"You screamed 'they're inside my clothes'," Buer said cheerfully.
Egeria, sipping delicately, made a sound dangerously close to a giggle.
Another half-hour passed.
The stars glittered brighter now, and the wine had loosened the evening like a lullaby. Kyle had laid back against a cushion, arms behind his head, eyes soft with contentment. Buer was humming a tune she'd only half-remembered, swaying slightly as she nibbled a cherry.
And Egeria… was blushing.
Her cheeks were tinged with pink. Her eyes had softened immensely, no longer cool or precise, but wide, glinting faintly with starlight and wine. Her posture had relaxed, one hand pressed to her cheek, the other resting loosely beside Kyle's arm.
"You both are so warm," she murmured suddenly.
Kyle blinked.
"I beg your pardon?" Buer said, already smirking.
Egeria tilted slightly toward Kyle, swaying just enough to rest her shoulder against his. "You're… good. Steady. Like riverstone warmed by sun."
Kyle's breath caught. "U-uh… thanks?"
"You're warm too," she mumbled, turning her head lazily toward Buer. "Like… my favourite teapot. Full of music. And sometimes fire."
"I'll take it," Buer grinned.
"…And another thing," she murmured into her glass, "you're both conspiring. You conspired. You're sneaks."
"We're affection engineers, actually," Buer corrected with a proud grin.
Egeria slowly pointed her finger at her. "Tiny sneak."
Buer placed a hand over her chest, feigning offense. "I have been called many things. But never tiny."
Kyle, who had been quietly admiring how the moonlight glowed on Egeria's features, leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "You're really cute when you're like this."
Egeria blinked slowly. "I am always cute."
Buer clutched her stomach, giggling. "She said it. She actually said it."
"I meant," Egeria added, trying to sit straighter—and failing—"I meant that I… I maintain certain standards of aesthetic. A goddess must be…" Her words tangled and dissolved as she gestured vaguely. "...composed."
Egeria stared dreamily at the sky. "Do you know… I never noticed how big the stars are here. They're like… like fireflies made of memory."
Kyle and Buer exchanged a look. Victory. Sweet, adorable victory.
"I think she's gone," Buer whispered.
"I am not gone," Egeria huffed indignantly. "I am perfectly sovereign."
"You're hugging my arm," Kyle said gently.
Egeria paused, looking down at the arm she was indeed clinging to. Her fingers curled against his sleeve like ivy around a fencepost.
"I am… testing fabric texture," she said imperiously.
"It's my arm," he replied, laughing.
"You're not allowed to laugh," she declared, lifting her head to pout at him. "You always laugh when I'm sincere."
Kyle's heart did a strange, wobbly somersault.
"She's pouting," Buer whispered gleefully.
"I am not—!" Egeria turned toward Buer and then blinked. "…Your hair is very shiny."
"Oh no," Buer grinned, delighted. "We're entering the flattery phase."
Egeria reached out and touched a strand of Buer's hair gently. "Like silk spun from moonlight."
"Stop, I'll blush," Buer teased, clearly loving every second.
Egeria then turned to Kyle again and placed her hand lightly on his cheek.
"And you," she said seriously, eyes wide and starry. "You have… the most astonishing eyelashes."
Kyle sat frozen. "What."
"They're like—like butterfly wings dipped in ink."
Buer rolled over, wheezing. "Egeria, oh Archon Above, you poetic drunk mess."
"I am not poetic," she mumbled.
"You're literally composing romantic metaphors," Kyle whispered.
"I can compose more," Egeria offered sincerely. "Would you like one about your shoulders? Or your sword grip?"
"No—no thank you," Kyle stammered.
She blinked, confused. "But I wrote you one once."
Kyle's voice cracked. "You what?"
Buer sat up like she'd been struck by lightning. "You wrote him poetry?!"
Egeria was already blushing again. "It was a private exercise. For… vocabulary practice."
Buer was howling now. "You big soft baby goddess!"
"I shall exile you both," Egeria grumbled, trying to steal the wine bottle. "Immediately."
Buer grabbed it first. "Too late. You're soft and clingy and adorable and you missed hugging things, so guess what!"
And with a dramatic flourish, she leaned over and hugged Egeria from behind, arms wrapped tight around her waist.
Egeria squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
Kyle stared in disbelief.
Buer grinned at him from behind Egeria's shoulder. "Come on, Kyle. You want to hug her. She's literally purring."
"I am not—mmph!" Egeria tried to protest, but now Kyle had joined in, cautiously wrapping his arms around her too. She made a small, flustered sound and buried her face in Kyle's shoulder, entirely overwhelmed.
"You're warm," she mumbled.
"You already said that," Kyle murmured.
"Mmm," she hummed softly. "Still true."
The three of them sat there tangled together, under starlight and wine haze, the goddess of wisdom reduced to a blushing cuddleball between a scheming sage and a flustered swordsman.
In the distance, a ripple of wind swept the treetops, as if the world itself were exhaling.
Tomorrow, things would change.
But for now…
Kyle tightened his arm just a little. Buer rested her chin on Egeria's shoulder. And Egeria, drunk and loved and glowing faintly in the lanternlight, sighed like a girl who had forgotten what it was like to be held.