“So, Tee.” Roe drops her voice nice and low. “What are you wearing?”
“What?” Roe is certain Thyme can hear her shit-eating grin. “I’m just curious.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure. You’re in bed by yourself with your wife two and a half continents away, and you’re curious about what color blouse I picked today.”
“Sure am,” Roe says, and then: “So is it the pink one? You know how I feel about the pink one.”
inappropriate and unprofessional usage of a linkpearl.
- Part 14 of parsley, sage
three short, independent pieces for #wolshipweek, a celebration of wol/wol pairings! thank you to @WolShip on twitter for the prompts <3
- Part 16 of parsley, sage
“What time is it?” Roe’s voice is thick and gravely.
“Still early.” Thyme shifts, settles her head back onto the pillow, nuzzles close so her forehead just grazes against Roe’s temple. “Before sunrise,” she says, and Roe huffs out a tiny little sigh.
“Gods,” Roe breathes. She shuts her eyes again. “I thought that was it,” she says, so soft it’s almost inaudible—and she doesn’t speak again, but her meaning is still clear: I thought we were out of time. And Thyme doesn’t say anything back, because she can’t, because her throat feels tight and sharp like there’s a knife plunged through it.
rosemary and thyme, the night before a departure.
- Part 15 of parsley, sage
Part of me knows that much time has passed; there is no way for us to know how long, of course. And there’s no point in thinking of how we came to be here, my darling, but you know how my mind is prone to wander.
That morning we left, when I kissed you and I told you I’d be back, I was sure I would. It wasn’t quite in the way we’d wanted at the time, of course, in the end. But I suppose my luck had to run out sometime.
a bad ending.
- Part 6 of parsley, sage
“Chamomile,” Thyme says, and Roe pulls such a face as she looks down at her mug, like a child staring down the plate of boiled sprouts standing between her and dessert, “because you need to rest. When was the last time you slept through the night?”
“Recently,” Roe grumbles. “Few days ago. I think.”
Thyme folds her arms. “Mhm.”
“I’m fine, Tee,” Roe says, but it comes out half-hearted, as though she knows Thyme can see bright neon lettering that says LIAR flashing over her head. “Really.”
“I can be fine and exhausted.”
“That is not how that works.”
in which roe is horrible at self care, and thyme concocts a plan.
- Part 13 of parsley, sage
love, lay me down under grass &
sunlight, and touch me [right here]
and here and here, where the ache
& hurt have gone to nest.
[(now again)] my fingers will find
yours, tangle & sweeten the air,
and the birds will cry [for]
us alone. // a.s.w., expansion on sappho's fragment 83
a collection of writings on my ffxiv ocs, rosemary wilds and thyme meadows—mostly standalone oneshots, but arranged in something approaching chronological order. their story begins shortly after the beginning of shadowbringers, and as such I reference msq here and there. please be wary of spoilers!