"Warmth"- Tavra/Onica
She's supposed to be buying a dress, Tavra reminds herself for the fifth time that afternoon. For Seladon's birthday, she'd been angling that her old ones still looked like childling's clothes- though why she had chosen to ask it of the sister who had been in armor since her wings had opened is beyond Tavra. But the racks of silks and tulles all look the same to her, and all she can manage to think about is how beautiful Onica looks with her fiery hair crowned with snow.
It's a miracle her Elder has let her out for a day, but one that Tavra will gladly take full advantage of. The massive fur coat Tavra has lent her all but engulfs her small frame as she comes walking back, carefully holding two steaming cups of mulled wine.
Tavra takes one gratefully, momentarily transfixed by a snowflake that drifts down to land on a freckle on the end of Onica's nose. Not now. Concentrate.
"Maybe we should ask the shopkeeper for help," she sighs, taking a welcome sip of the spiced liquid and feeling the warmth spread all the way to her fingertips. "I'm the worst person for this. Mother's seamstress told me once that I wouldn't know a pleat from a pintuck." She laughs. "And she was absolutely right."
Onica raises an eyebrow over her own wine cup. "I can't claim to be an expert either, you know." Her lips curl into the little smile Tavra loves, tinged with just enough mischief to plausibly deny if caught. "But then again, I also can't pretend to be terribly interested in buying your sister a dress."
Grabbing Tavra's hand, she pulls her just behind the rack of gowns, and Tavra realizes that they are entirely hidden from the midday crowds by the fluffy skirts. She returns Onica's smirk even wider.
The kiss tastes of spiced wine, but warms her far more.