#also yea i totally didn't opt to start it with THAT line because it sounded sus

[chucapybara]

"mhm, just like that. hold it up—oh, perfect!"

"is this really necessary?" comes the huff of protest from your captain, whose cheeks colour the hue of windwheel asters. just a slight flush, as she brings the dandelion up, holding it by the stem. delicate, refined, even with her departure from clan tradition. it's always suited her in ways you've only grown to adore, over the years; the way she's made of her past and the cruel jeers of the people into something entirely her own. irreplaceable, unflinching.

even through the kamera lens, eula lawrence exuded nobility, bright as the shimmering waves. almost blinding. you were no sculptor, but you'd learn every art and trade just to preserve the picture of her in undying stone.

"no," you murmur, unable to keep the fondness out of your voice, as you steady the gadget held up to your eye. "but we might as well, right?"

after all, it's your birthday, you add in your mind. and you keep growing more and more beautiful, every single year.

eula rolls her eyes, an exasperated smile twitching on her soft lips. "fine. let's just get it over with."

she always holds herself up with such dignity and poise, unwilling to allow anyone else to glimpse anything of her; keeping the world beyond arm's reach. a protective shell, if nothing else.

but with you, all the tension bled from her, as easy as breathing. with you, there was no need to pretend for anything greater than herself. nothing to prove, nothing to uphold. no softer hands could bear her heart with such kindness—they may as well have been pillow cushions, a regal throne upon which her unbidden affections, her very lifeblood sat. cared for, in ways she may never be able to entirely repay.

so she leans back, ankles crossed, resting her free arm on the hollow tree trunk she's made for a seat (in your head, you feel mildly envious of the fallen wood). her figure, all slender yet lean muscle and elegant grooves, leans just rightly to the side, almost demure, and—

she tilts her head. eyelashes fluttering, and oh, there goes your breath, stolen away, the wind knocked out of your lungs.

you choke, and eula straightens up, surprised. "are you alright?" she asks, her brows furrowing as you cough, wheezing, the camera almost dropping into your lap. oh, you are terribly whipped for this woman. it's your turn to blush as brightly as freshly-picked valberries. damn.

"yeah," you croak in response. "i'm fine. wow. just—wow."

it shouldn't take you this long to snap the photo, but you can't help being simply gobsmacked by your captain, to the lawrence's honest amusement. first, your hand trembles, and the photo comes out blurry—she chides you impatiently, a scoff of your surname that's just a little too soft on her lips, but the words hold no malice, you know—and the next one comes out too bright because a beam of sun blasts it unfortuitously—

but then you steady yourself with a deep inhale, and take the next shot.

the device clicks,

and it's perfect.

eula stands out from verdant grass as the boundless sky does the earth, stems of dandelions lending hues and saturation onto your lady. for a moment, it's a glimpse of heaven made flesh, goddess made real.

you can't believe she's real.

"do you intend to keep gawking at my image as a duckling does," eula muses, sunset gaze sparkling with something gentle, "or do you have any actual intention of showing me what you've captured?"

you fluster, again, as you pick yourself up from the grass, slipping her the film. and as you set down your kamera, you find that the sun is warm, and your heart even warmer.

"hmph." eula huffs, again, in that way so characteristically her that you can discern between her genuine annoyance and affectionate irritation. her eyes flicker from photo, to kamera, to photographer, and they linger on you for a moment longer than they ought to. you see the quirk of her smile, invisible to all but a few, yourself included.

"not bad. you certainly have an eye for portraits. perhaps i ought to have you photograph our entire company?"

"i wouldn't be opposed," you murmur. but just as you reach for your kamera, eula beats you to it, her grasp swift as it withdraws the gadget from your reach.

"ah ah ah," the lawrence raises a knowing brow, a rare but intentful smirk on her features, and you gulp. oh, dear. "we're not finished, yet. don't think i'm done exacting my vengeance upon you."

a protest of your own dies in your throat, when she lifts the kamera to her eye, lens facing you. her instructions are your command, and even as you redden to the extremity of sparkling berry juice, vermilion chill sitting sour-sweet in its glass as you try to veil your face behind a hand, you already know better than to deny your beloved what she wishes.

"consider it a birthday gift. from me, to you."